


The Choices We Made

by JewelBurns



Series: Choices We Made Universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Death, Complete, F/M, Gen, Good Dudley Dursley, Good Severus Snape, Grief/Mourning, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Kidnapped Harry, Kidnapped Snape, Leukemia, Magical Cores, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Mentions of Cancer, Mentor Severus Snape, Minor Character Death, POV Harry Potter, POV Severus Snape, Plot Twists, Second Chances, Severus Snape Adopts Harry Potter, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Sickfic, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 76
Words: 554,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24726043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JewelBurns/pseuds/JewelBurns
Summary: *COMPLETE* What if you could change your biggest regret? After a devastating event occurs, Snape from an alternate reality is given that chance, but ends up in the canon universe. Will he be able to gain back what he's lost while helping to save the wizarding world at the same time?AU post-OOTP, HP/SS adopt/mentor, Sick!Harry, no slash
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Choices We Made Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016476
Comments: 222
Kudos: 485





	1. I Failed Him

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking out my first story! This is an AU (time/reality travel) fic where Snape starts in an alternate reality and then travels to canon. I have the first 70K words written which should keep the updates regular. This is not beta-read, but I do multiple readings before I deem it ready to publish. I also did my best to keep the British true, but I'm American so there are definitely things I'm sure I missed.
> 
> This chapter is very heavy, but it's setting up the background. Warning: character death (temporary), death of a child discussed (not graphic).
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Harry Potter universe!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for checking out my first story! This is an AU (time/reality travel) fic where Snape starts in an alternate reality and then travels to canon. This fic is now complete, so please keep that in mind if you choose to review along your journey with Harry and Snape. I am going back and fixing some of the formatting, so if you've read this and was notified of an update, it's just some formatting.
> 
> I did my best to keep the British true, but I'm American so there are definitely things I'm sure I missed.
> 
> There is an eventual Draco/Hermione pairing, and while it's important to the overall storyline, it is a small aspect to the story.
> 
> This chapter is very heavy, but it's setting up the background. Warning: character death (temporary), death of a child discussed (not graphic).
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Harry Potter universe. If you recognize it, it's not mine!

**_21st May, 1997_ **

"Severus," was the only word Albus Dumbledore could say as he stepped out of the floo in the dungeon quarters of his Potion Master and was not at all surprised to see the disaster in front of him.

The modest sitting room was in shambles. The worn sofa, two armchairs, and coffee table were in place as they should be, but parchment, broken glass, and trinkets littered the floor. Picture frames broken across the room showed the story of the quarter's inhabitants - a raven-haired boy and the Potion Master. Among the destroyed room, on the coffee table were two things in pristine condition. The first was an official document with the Ministry of Magic Department of Children's Services seal and the other a hand written letter on some parchment. Wanting to respect Severus's privacy, Albus simply placed the phial of red liquid he was carrying next to these objects without a single glance at either of them.

He continued to the right down a short hallway where he knew without a doubt he would find Severus. The air was heavy with grief as he approached the cracked door.

"Severus," he repeated as he pushed the door ajar.

The room looked untouched and inviting with its light blue walls, Quidditch posters, and Gryffindor flags showing off the bright personality of the 16 year old boy who once lived here. A desk on the left wall sat next to a door leading to the private lavatory Albus had added when all this started almost exactly a year ago. There were signs of unfinished school work sitting on the desk that would need to be cleaned out. A wardrobe full of muggle clothes, school uniforms, and robes was on the wall flushed with the door.

The picture frames in this room were still upright and intact. Most of them showed three friends growing up from curious 11 and 12-year olds getting back on the Hogwarts Express after their first year, Christmas celebrations throughout the past five years at Hogwarts, the Burrow, and Spinners End, and rambunctious 5th-years celebrating Gryffindor winning the final Quidditch match against Slytherin last year. Ironically, that was the last match Harry would play before his life was turned upside down. Next to the pictures of friends sat the photo album Hagrid had given Harry at the end of his first year. The edges of the pages worn from use, Albus didn't need to open it to know what other family pictures had been added throughout the years.

Albus knew he would find Severus in here; on the bed in the far right corner of the room under the enchanted window showing the sun setting across the black lake.

Severus Snape was still in his black dress robes from earlier that day, his head cradled in his hands propped up on his elbows. Albus knew instantly that he'd made the right decision to be the one to check on the man in front of him. Poppy and Minerva both volunteered to be here, but in the end Albus knew he was the only one who should come.

"I failed him Albus," Severus said, so quietly it was almost unheard, not bothering to even look up. His voice cracking halfway through making it hard to continue. "I was supposed to protect him but I failed."

Taking a deep breath, Severus looked up into the Headmaster's eyes hoping to find anything but pity. Severus had seen enough pity this past year instead he needed answers, he needed a way forward.

Albus took a steady breath. "Ah, but Severus, my boy, you did not fail him. You gave him the one thing no one else had ever given him... A choice."

"This should not have been his decision! I should have pushed harder for what I knew was right," Severus exclaimed slamming his fist onto the small nightstand beside the bed. "How did it get this far?"

"Hindsight has a way of looking crystal clear. You know it was not that simple. Asking a 15 year old boy to possibly give up the magic he'd so recently discovered is not an easy request. We all thought we had a handle on it; that it was under control."

Albus automatically knew which crossroad Severus was thinking back upon. There were so many crossroads this year, but only one had the biggest impact leading them to this exact spot. He was telling the truth that no one could have guessed how quickly the end would come, how suddenly it went from manageable to out of control.

"Severus, you must not blame yourself. Harry would not want you to live with this guilt. We all knew this was a possibility, even Harry did," Albus explained knowing he was speaking to deaf ears. As the sun set lower through the enchanted window, the Potion Master's face became hidden by the shadows. Walking back towards the door Albus said over his shoulder, "Come, let us have some tea."

Back in the sitting room, sitting on the worn sofa the headmaster summoned a tea set and started pouring the tea for himself and Severus. A variety of biscuits were on a plate next to the tea cups. On the table in front stood the phial of red potion and Albus wondered how to bring up this painful topic. With the wave of his wand, the torches came to life providing just enough light to see without making the atmosphere too happy and the room started to clean itself up. Picture frames were pieced back together, parchment placed back on the table in neat piles, blankets folded, and trinkets uprighted.

Severus slowly entered the room after stopping by his bedroom to change out of his dress robes and into his more casual attire of a white button down shirt and black trousers. His face immediately grimaced as he noticed his living room back to its neat and tidy self.

He sighed and sat down in the armchair across from Albus. "You needn't babysit me Albus nor are you mind healer," he finally said, taking the tea cup that was handed to him and sipping carefully to give him something to do besides looking at Albus.

"I would never do such a thing, " Albus replied with a slight smile willing the man in front of him to open up just a little.

Finally, Severus looked up and met the Headmaster's blue eyes peering through his half-moon spectacles. A range of emotions passed for a split second over the pair of black eyes: grief, guilt, anger, and then the mask of indifference he always wore was back up.

Albus took a risk in saying, "It was a beautiful service today. Was Molly Weasley any help with the arrangements? I know she was adamant that you need not handle it on your own."

"Yes, well she refused to leave from my doorway until I let her help. I couldn't very well have her sitting outside my quarters, then anyone would know where to find me," Severus sarcastically replied. "It was helpful to have an extra set of hands," he finally conceded.

As an only child, he was solely responsible for both his parents' funeral arrangements many years ago, but he quickly realized how little regard he had for his parents in the end since those arrangements had not nearly upset him like planning his child's. Severus looked down at the coffee table glancing at the official Ministry of Magic document:

_Certificate of Adoption_

_This document certifies that the minor child_

**_Harry James Potter_ **

_born to James and Lily Potter on 31 July, 1980 has been formally adopted by_

**_Mr. Severus Tobias Snape_ **

_on 5th of March, 1993 and is officially recognized by the Ministry of Magic Department of Children's Services_

Only then did he notice the phial of red liquid sitting next to Harry's adoption certificate. Being one of the top Potions Masters in Europe gave him the advantage of recognizing most potions instantly which is why Severus was puzzled that he could not identify this one. Not wanting to give Albus the upper hand in whatever direction the conversation was headed, he decided to put that observation aside in his mind for later.

"Let's cut the pleasantries Albus, why are you here? It's been a very long day," said Severus just ready to end this visit so he could pour a healthy glass of firewhiskey.

"Why must you think I always have a reason?"

There was a pregnant pause where neither man wanted to give into their curiosity of the other.

"Have you made any decisions yet on your classes? I've offered you the remainder of the year off and I think you should reconsider taking it."

"I don't see the point," Severus replied with a touch of anger and sadness in his voice. "I see no reason why I can't take control of my regular class load again." _Now that Harry is gone_ was left unsaid between them.

Once Harry was diagnosed, he had taken a lighter course load and in his last month when things turned bad he wasn't teaching at all; instead working around the clock to keep Harry as comfortable as possible. Now with neither of those situations, he could use the distraction teaching would give him.

"Simply let me know when you'll be back and what you feel comfortable taking on. It's ok to grieve Severus, the whole school has felt the loss, but losing a friend or student doesn't compare to that of a child," Albus tried not to lecture the man who was as close to him as a son.

The silence was deafening between the two men as neither knew where to go from here. Giving into the silence, Albus continued, "That's not the only reason for my visit, but I must admit I'm not sure how to proceed with what I came to tell you."

"Get it out Albus. No need for theatrics today," Severus felt a migraine coming on and briefly considered a headache draught instead of firewhiskey.

"What if you could redo your biggest decision in life? The catch is that you have the possibility of a whole different world around you and you can't come back," Albus said nervously looking down at the handwritten parchment. "Would it be worth the risk?" Albus's eyes twinkled for the first time since he arrived at the dungeons.

"Don't you dare do this Albus!" Severus yelled. "Of all the days and all the time to even say something so insane you choose now? Today?!" Serverus couldn't believe the person he ever considered a father-figure, a mentor, would say this now.

"Just think about it, Severus," Albus said as he tapped the phial with the red liquid sitting between them. He stood carefully knowing the path he had just set. "Think about it, my boy, and we can talk more tomorrow. Poppy asked me to give you this. She is aware that you likely have it but she wants to make sure it's in front of you tonight," he places another phial, this time of a purple potion, next to the red one which Severus immediately recognized as Dreamless Sleep. He couldn't deny that taking _that_ one was a better idea than not.

As Severus watched the Headmaster floo, presumably back to his office, he picked up the red phial to examine it. Resisting the urge to throw the phial against the wall just to hear it shatter, he placed it back down on the table. This was going to be a thought for another day.

Instead, he summoned a glass of firewhiskey and picked up the parchment with the note written in Harry's handwriting, then settled into his armchair to read it for what must have been the hundredth time since Harry died the previous week.

_May 1st, 1997_

_Dear Dad_

_Not going to lie, this seems strange to write out a note that you won't read until after I'm gone. So this probably isn't going to be as eloquent as you normally like to see_.

Severus took a deep breath feeling a wave of guilt come over him. Of all the things Harry would be thinking to write, he was first worried about letting Severus down.

_I want you to know that I don't blame you for what's happening. You made it very clear last June that you thought I should take the muggle medication instead of the magical version. I just couldn't do it and I know you don't understand. What you need to know now is that it's not your fault. It's no one's really, it's just my sheer dumb luck ran out._

_Now that's out of the way, I want to thank you. Coming to Hogwarts, I never would have expected things to go like they did. Thank you for being here for me through everything, for giving me a home. It may be small, but we're a family and it's more than I ever would have expected. Thank you for being here with me these last 11 months. It's been hard for you too, I can see that. Thank you for staying with me through it all, the nights I was too sick to sleep, the days I felt well enough to fight over the stupid little things (I seriously don't know why you put up with me sometimes), and especially now that there's nothing left we can do._

_I know you never stopped fighting for me. I know you spend nights up researching new potions and trying to find something that would work. I want you to know that I never stopped fighting either. Even now, when I just know the end is coming I'm still fighting for us. I keep thinking, if I could go back and change that decision to go the muggle way, I think I would give it another thought. Does that make me weak? Well, I think it makes me human and that's all I can be._

Severus paused, feeling the tear roll down his cheek. He looked up at the table and stared at the phial of red liquid Albus brought. Could it? Could it really do what Albus alluded to?

_You have zero reason to trust me on this but you'll be ok. You'll survive this when I'm gone. Yes it will be hard, but please don't sit away in our quarters. Go to the great Hall for meals, have tea with Professor McGonagall, or if you really need a pick-me-up invite Ron for some chess! Ok, I'm joking on that last one, but just get out that part I'm serious about. I know I don't say this enough, but I love you. I'm going to miss you Dad._

_Love your son,_

_Harry_

As he reached the end of the letter, Severus finished off his glass of firewhiskey, stood, and threw the glass at the wall. As it shattered, he looked down at the 2 phials on the table in front of him. Picking up the Dreamless Sleep Potion, he paced nervously in front of the fireplace knowing he could take the potion and fall blissfully into sleep.

He passed the phial between his hands. He looked up from it to see a photograph sitting on the fireplace mantle, back in one piece courtesy of Albus. The photograph was of him with 12 year old Harry, taken the day the adoption was finalized. Harry's smile couldn't be any bigger. Severus closed his eyes and thought back to that day. He instantly remembered how nervous he was as they went through the final interviews. It had been difficult several months to get to that point and he was sure he would say the exact thing to ruin it all. He remembered like it was yesterday, when they gave him the quill for his final signature and just like that, Harry was his son.

This was before... Before the diagnosis at the end of Harry's 5th year. Before Severus learned that these strong muggle medications can start to erase the magical signature of a young wizard. Before those words took over their life. Leukemia. Cancer.

Severus opened his eyes, looked down at the Dreamless Sleep and a split second later threw the phial against the same wall as his firewhiskey glass. He then stormed off to his bedroom hoping to dream of his son just to see him one more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next: The Longest Day


	2. The Longest Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of child's death

To his great surprise, Severus fell asleep quickly that night and was brought into a series of memories. The first was after 5th year potions class last year.

 _"Dad, I'm sure it's nothing," Harry complained as he pulled his arm out of Severus's grasp. "Clearly I got hit by something during the match last week, it's no big deal."_ _It had been 4 days since the Gryffindor Quidditch team beat Slytherin in the final match and several of the bruises were not only still present but at least 3 new bruises had shown up without Harry knowing where they came from. As much as Severus wanted to brush it off, his intuition was telling him something was wrong."I really don't care what you think about it, you need to go back to the hospital wing. This is not a normal reaction for an injury like this," Severus lectured. He really hated the Gryffindor attitude Harry favored. Even though Harry hadn't needed to take care of himself by himself in the past 4 years, it was still a reaction ingrained in him from his early neglected childhood. "I'll write you a note to excuse your next class, but you are to go straight to Madam Pomfrey and have her check it. I'll know if you've been there or not. "_

Severus tossed and turned as the memory changed now to a small room at St. Mungo's.

_Harry was sitting on the small exam table waiting to hear what the Healer was going to tell them. Madam Pomfrey couldn't find anything that would cause the Quidditch bruises to last as long as they were. Five days and 2 massive nosebleeds later, Harry was back in the Hospital Wing this time with Severus by his side. When Madam Pomfrey still couldn't find a cause, they were sent to a Healer at St. Mungo's, hopefully for some answers."I'm sure it's nothing Dad. People get nosebleeds all the time," Harry said only half believing it as the Healer came back into the room._

_Everything got fuzzy around the dream as Severus's anxiety increased, knowing what was about to happen Only select words could be heard from the Healer around the room "Leukemia... Cancer in his blood... Very rare for a wizard... Two treatment options... Chemotherapy is what muggles use... specialty wizard potions, but they're untested." Severus looked over at Harry and knew he'd never forget fear in those piercing emerald eyes..._

_Suddenly the dream went dark, so dark Severus couldn't see his hand in front of him. Starting to worry, he heard Harry's voice coming from the air above him, "It's my life we're talking about! I should have a say in it!"_... " _You're still a child, at the end of the day the decision is mine and I don't think risking your life is worth it!" He heard himself say knowing exactly what this conversation was. This was the infamous crossroad, they had no idea the impact this decision would make. "I know you don't want to hear it, but the possibility of losing your magical signature is absolutely better then losing your life. You're doing the chemotherapy." As he listened to the argument he realized that was his mistake. He should have discussed, not demanded. Maybe then, Harry would have seen his anger had come from his concern."Absolutely not!" Harry yelled. "I'll refuse. You can't seriously think everyone will be ok with you forcefully taking me when I'm almost 16 years old. Seriously, you're a renowned potion master if anyone can beat this with potions you can." In the end, Severus didn't sleep the night after that argument. Instead he spent every minute researching and finally finding something he thought could work. Only it didn't work in the end. Sure, things seemed positive the first 3 months and then they made adjustments and again things were going well for another 6 months until all of sudden it wasn't. At that point, things were too far gone to fix._

 _The scene changed to Harry's bedroom in their dungeon quarters. Harry was laying underneath the green bedspread, it was his absolute favorite because of how soft and plush it was. Severus was sitting in a comfortable armchair next to the bed watching Harry closely... Waiting, not daring to move. The enchanted window showed a crescent moon over the lake. Very calm, the exact opposite of what Severus felt inside._ _Memory Severus turned around when he heard the door open and saw Sirius and Molly approach the bed. Playing out like a silent movie was fine because Severus knew what was said. This happened only last week and was one of the worst days of Severus's life, even worse than when he heard that Lily died. Molly asked how Harry was and if Severus needed anything placing her hand comfortingly on his shoulder, but in the end they all just stood by, watching and waiting for the inevitable..._

Severus suddenly woke up, his head pounding and his heart racing, a slight sweat building up on his forehead, instantly regretting the decision to not take the Dreamless Sleep last night. It took a minute for his head to clear enough to realize he was in his bedroom in his Hogwarts quarters. The events from the last 24 hours hit him hard as a wave of grief passed through him. Deciding he was not going to be able to go back to sleep, he got up to shower and get ready for the day.

He almost didn't know what to do when he entered the kitchen 30 minutes later. There were no potions to prepare, no special breakfast to make, no one to check on. If he tried hard enough, he could almost imagine that it was a normal Thursday before all this happened and Harry was simply up in Gryffindor tower sleeping amongst the other 6th-year boys.

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, a morning ritual he started after late nights sitting up with Harry that he could never see dropping, he sat down at the small table with the latest Potions journal to start catching up on news he missed. Not being able to focus, he summoned some parchment, a quill, and ink bottle to start the list of things that needed to be done before he started classes again on Monday:

\- Meet with Headmaster about Monday

\- Meet with Slughorn about class syllabus'

\- Inventory ingredients

\- Diagon Alley to replenish as needed

\- Clean out office

\- Clean out Harry's room

Rubbing his hand down his face, he then crossed off the last one. He couldn't do that yet. Committing to at least start it before he went back to teaching classes, he considered asking Ron and Hermione if they'd like to take a look through it first. With another hard sigh he decided that as much as he hated to admit it, Sirius should also stop by to look through it.

The enchanted window at the far end of the sitting room showed the first rays of sun peeking into the sky. If he wanted to, he could head up to the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry's letter about not isolating himself in his quarters rang through his ears and he resisted the urge to order breakfast from the house elves. He stood up, cleaned out his coffee cup the muggle way just for something to keep his mind busy and then walked out his door heading towards the Great Hall. He just wanted to get this over with.

* * *

Severus was happy to see that this early on a Thursday, the Great Hall was mostly empty. Draco Malfoy was sitting alone at the Slytherin table as he had always been an early riser. A couple Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs came strolling in as he took his seat at the head table trying his best to avoid glancing towards the Gryffindor table. If he did that, his imaginary world of Harry simply sleeping in his tower would shatter even though Harry would never be up before 7am.

Sitting to his left was Minerva McGonagall and she didn't even try to hide her look of concern.

"Good morning Severus," she greeted him trying her best to sound like it was a normal day. "I didn't get to tell you yesterday, but everything was beautiful," she paused as she caught his warning eyes. "Have you reconsidered Albus' offer to take the rest of the year off?"

"I will not be taking much more time off. In fact, I'm going to speak with the Headmaster this morning about my return on Monday. The only reason I'm not back today is to give me time to speak with Slughorn," he tried not to sound angry with her. He understood she was trying to help and he's never had any issues with Minerva in the past but navigating through this new reality was bound to take some adjusting for everyone.

He filled his plate with porridge, fruit, and yoghurt as the noise in the Great Hall started to increase with students arriving to start their normal day. With the school year coming to an end, students would be talking about end-of-year exams, O.W.L.s and N.E. already completed, and summer plans. _Maybe it's time to sell the house on Spinner's End?_ ' he thought as he was contemplating his own summer plans, _Harry was the only reason I kept it. I don't know what he loved about that house so much._

He was brought out of his thoughts by the headmaster sitting down on the other side of Minerva already in conversation. "... excused Mr. Weasley and Miss. Granger for today," the Headmaster said to Minerva. Severus could only assume he was giving Ron Hermione an excused absence.

"Hello Severus, it's nice to see you out and about this morning," Albus greeted much too cheerfully for Severus's mood even if this were any other normal day.

"Hello Albus. I need to speak with you this morning," Severus got to the point seeing no need to drag on the inevitable. "It's about my schedule for the rest of the year."

"I'm going to assume you haven't decided to take more time off," he said nonchalantly. "All the better for us, I guess. Not that the students would say so. I imagine they're quite enjoying Horace's level of work. Stop by my office after breakfast if that works for you."

Severus just barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his mentor. "Of course," he simply said.

"Oh and Severus, I think we should continue discussing that matter I mentioned yesterday... the red potion?"

"No, we absolutely won't!" He yelled looking around as all eyes in the Great Hall were now focused on him.

Having deemed himself in the presence of people for an appropriate amount of time and wanting to cool off before meeting Albus in his office, he stood to leave. In doing so, he looked straight ahead just as Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville were walking in for breakfast. He met their eyes and got lost in the grief on their faces. Taking a deep breath, he turned and walked out the staff doorway, conveniently he wouldn't have to pass by the group of Gryffindors.

* * *

An hour later, after taking a brisk walk outside to clear his head, Severus was heading towards the Headmaster's office. He had decided to stop by his quarters to grab the phial of red potion with every intention of returning it.

"Sugar Quills," Severus said and the stone gargoyle stepped aside. Riding the circular stairs up he was determined not to put up with any of the Headmaster's meddling. He reached the outer door and knocked.

"Come in Severus," he heard from the other side.

Entering the office he confidently took a seat in the single chair across from Albus who was sitting proudly at his desk.

Wanting to get this over with and move on Severus said, "I'll be picking up all my classes again on Monday. I just need to sit down with Slughorn after he's done with his last one today so I'm up to date on their work. I may need to replenish my ingredients to my standards this weekend but I don't foresee any issues coming up that would prevent me from working Monday," he clinically explained.

After a second he added, "Thank you for the flexibility this year, especially the last month or so. It was much appreciated to be able to help as much as Harry needed it and keep him here which is more comfortable than Spinners End."

Albus gave himself a couple seconds to gather his thoughts, looking deeply at the man in front of him wondering how it's possible someone so young could already have suffered through all he has.

"Severus," he started treading carefully through this conversation. "I applaud your ability to just jump back in and I stand by my statement that we'll all be happy to have you back in front of the classes," he didn't miss the small _hmph_ that escaped Severus's mouth at that statement. "If you need anything, my boy, just say the word. And no need to thank me, I just wish there was more we could do. The world lost a good young man far too soon."

He paused to give Severus time to react hoping he could finally get through to him. When nothing else was said he continued, "Sirius is here and wants to stop by your quarters today before leaving. He's visiting with Minerva during her free periods. If you don't get a chance to see him, I'm sure he'll stop by your quarters before heading out."

"I'll be sure to be on the lookout for him," Severus said sarcastically, pulling out the phial of red potion from his robes. "I don't know what this is, but you can have it back."

"Ah, I'm glad you brought this up! I'll be honest with you, I wasn't sure how to approach the subject again myself, " Albus said as he met Severus's eyes. "Aren't you a little bit curious, if for no other reason than just for professional exploration?"

A small hiss escaped the potions professor's mouth, "If you think enticing me with academia will make me open whatever you think this is, you've really lost it."

"I'm just trying to give you an option and open your eyes to a possibility you could never have thought existed," Albus explained whimsically. "All I ask is 10 minutes Severus. If after I'm through you want to walk away, then there is no harm. But just think, what if what I'm going to tell you helps to heal that pain deep inside you. That pain you never knew could even happen."

Severus wanted to walk away, but he sat there thinking hard about the consequences of staying. Could it really do anymore harm?

"You have 5 minutes to tell me what this is and why I shouldn't immediately shatter that phial. It has dark magic written all over it." Eyeing the phial with a grimace on his face but never one to turn away from a puzzle.

"That's all I ask," Albus said looking over his half-moon spectacles. "I've made some mistakes in my long life, Severus, plenty that I wish I could change. One such mistake led me on a search to see if anyone has developed a way to do so.

"That search brought me to many wise witches and wizards. Given my brief time constraint you're requiring, if you'd like more information on my search just let me know it would be a lovely story to tell over tea," Albus paused for dramatic effect and this time Severus couldn't resist the eye roll.

"What you need to know is that this potion can do that for you. It can allow you to change that moment in time when you can most impact the outcome. Isn't that what you want?" This time Albus's eyes twinkled ferociously at Severus's black eyes. "All you need is one drop of blood from the person who will use it. And then of course to drink it."

The Potion Master looked down, his long black hair covering his face. _This is absolutely insane. I can't honestly consider this._ He argued to himself.

After a minute in silence, he finally asked, "And what are the effects, should I be considering this wild idea?"

"Again, it's not widely known but you can't undo the decision and you won't know what the new world will be like until you're there," Albus replied giving a small smile. "Just hold onto this phial, you deserve it much more than I."

Albus held out the phial and with a slight pause, Severus took it, stood up, and promptly left the office.

* * *

Back in his quarters, Severus took off his robes and hung them by the door. He walked into the sitting room and placed the phial back on the table in front of the worn sofa.

Staring at the sofa he was brought into one of the many memories of Harry asleep on that same sofa. On nights when the pain was at its worst, they would come out to the living room and play chess regardless of the time. Harry had gotten extremely good at the game after countless nights playing. Eventually, Harry's eyes would grow heavy with sleep and he would then fall asleep on this sofa until the afternoon if he was lucky.

Trying to shake that memory away, Severus sat down on the sofa and unbuttoned the sleeves of his white button-down shirt and rolled the sleeves up. All of sudden he felt too claustrophobic in the sitting room. He closed his eyes trying to focus on his occlumency shields to help calm the thoughts in his mind. Lately, that was the only way he was still functioning; by pushing the intrusive thoughts as far away in his mind as he could.

Unfortunately, this time he just couldn't do it. With his elbows propped on his knees, his head cradled in his hands he couldn't stop the tears from falling. His heart felt like it was literally breaking apart and like the tears, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't keep the sobs away. Feeling like he couldn't draw in enough air to satisfy his lungs, he broke down with gut wrenching sobs.

After feeling completely raw and wanting to find something else to do, he stood up and walked to the fireplace. Hanging his head low, he picked up the picture to the left of the one from Harry's adoption day. The one showed the messy-haired teenager on his 15th birthday. He had a party at the Burrow a couple days after this photograph was taken, but this one was from the small gathering they had at their Spinners End home with Sirius Remus on his actual birthday.

In front of the Harry in this picture was a small cupcake with a single candle on it. Harry had a wide smile on his face because he was just happy to have people around to celebrate. Severus realized almost immediately after taking guardianship of Harry the summer after 1st year, he preferred smaller gatherings and therefore always had just a small celebration on his actual birthday. It started as just the two of them and then grew to include Remus before his 3rd year, and then grudgingly Sirius too when he was proven innocent of his crimes in the summer before 4th year. Severus watched the picture as Harry blew out the candle.

He could remember it like it was yesterday. The smell of Harry's favorite meal they had just finished, the sounds of laughter as Sirius, in his immature fashion, pushed the cupcake into Harry's face as he was about to eat it, and the sight of Harry just so relaxed, safe, and happy.

He fell to his knees in despair and all of a sudden the glass on the frame shattered. Unsure if it was from uncontrolled magic or just gripping too hard - and then realizing it didn't matter - he looked down to see the large, deep cut across his palm, the blood starting to pool on his open hand. _This is too easy_ he thought as the Headmaster's words rang through his head

**_All you need is one drop of blood from the person who will use it. And then of course to drink it._ **

Looking down at his injured bleeding hand a million thoughts went through his mind - _nothing good can come of this. I gave up the dark arts years ago, it's only ruined my life. Why would this be any different?_ But then Albus never said it was dark arts, he never said it wasn't either though. How could this not be considered dark magic?

Later, he would look back at this as a moment of weakness, but standing in his quarters feeling like he had no way forward, he put down what was left of the picture frame and picked up the phial. Removing the cork carefully, he held his hand over the phial and watched as a drop of blood hit the surface of the red potion with a sizzle and it started to smoke. _All I have to do is drink this and I'll get my second chance. It's that easy. What else do I have here? Lily's gone, Harry's gone, I have nothing left._

He carefully held the potion to his lips and tipped it back so the surprisingly smooth liquid poured into his mouth. He was caught off guard on how awful such a smooth potion could taste. Swallowing quickly, he coughed and suddenly felt like fire was erupting from his stomach. _Serves me right to die after drinking an unknown potion, I know better than this._

As quickly as the pain started, it stopped and Severus stood in front of the fireplace scared to even breathe. What was supposed to happen? Would he turn around and be back in time? How does this work exactly? How could he not ask something as simple as that?!

He jumped as he heard a knock at the door.

"I know you're in there Severus!" Came the annoying voice of one, Sirius Black, through the heavily warded door.

Looking around the sitting room, nothing was out of place. The broken picture and frame was still on the floor where he had dropped it. Even the broken glass of firewhiskey and phial of Dreamless Sleep were still there from the night before. With a wave of his ebony wand, the glass was banished to the rubbish bin and the picture frame repaired for the second time in as many days.

"Give me a minute!" He yelled back at the door. He wanted to be sure nothing had actually happened before opening the door and dealing with the one person he absolutely didn't want to see that day.

Grabbing a nearby quill, he transfigured it into a bandage and quickly wrapped his still bleeding hand. He walked briskly towards his room, peeking into Harry's room and not finding anything out of place, everything exactly the same as he left it that morning. Walking into the kitchen, again not seeing anything different than before, he started to question the sanity of Albus Dumbledore. Obviously the potion didn't work as expected and there was no way he was going to admit such to the Headmaster. He shouldn't have drank the stupid thing anyways.

"Would you open this door now?! I've been out here for ages!" Sirius screamed on the other side of the door.

"You are fine," Severus called out as he opened the door and stepped to the side allowing Sirius into his quarters. "What can I do for you Black?"

"Not much, I was in the area and thought it'd be kind of rude of me not to stop by," Sirius said while walking into the kitchen and sitting at the small table. "I thought we could, you know, have lunch or something?"

As a spy in his previous profession, Severus could see right through Sirius's lie. He could see the uneasiness in Sirius's eyes and knew the real reason was because he had spent every day in the dungeons until last week and he didn't know what else to do. This was the ultimate confirmation that the red potion changed absolutely nothing. He couldn't help but feel disappointed.

"I'll order some sandwiches," Severus finally conceded. After the failed red potion, he figured he could use the distraction as well. He turned around to head back to the sitting room and the floo to order lunch.

* * *

Two hours later, after eating their turkey sandwiches, crisps, fruit, and tea, both men moved into the sitting room for a glass of firewhiskey.

"So, when are you going back to classes?" Sirius asked after they had discussed every other innocuous topic.

Severus sighed, "Monday. I'm scheduled for a quick discussion with Slughorn tonight and then I'll jump back in first thing Monday morning."

"What about this summer? Any big plans?" Another questionably safe topic but definitely skirting the line.

"I've got some research projects to finish to maintain my Potions Mastery that were put on hold last summer and I thought about getting the house ready to sell," he said honestly, not really sure why he was telling this to Sirius Black of all people.

"Oh, well... It sounds like you've got a good plan in place," Sirius looked down trying not to sound as pathetic as he thought he must. "I'm not sure what to do," he said honestly. "It's not like Harry lived with me or anything, but most of the small amount of time I've known him..." Sirius paused off having broken the seal on the taboo topic.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. _No, this is_ ** _not_** _the conversation I want to have with him._

"Maybe... Oh I don't know!" He finally yelled much harsher than he expected. While the subject had been broached, he said "I'm going to start looking through Harry's room this weekend. I can't help with your summer plans, but I wouldn't turn you away if you wanted to stop by and help. Same goes for Spinners End once term is over here." There... He'd said it.

Sirius took a large sip of his firewhiskey, "Um... Yeah, that'd be great. Thank you... for everything."

They both sat there in silence, neither attempting to look the other in the eye sipping their glasses of firewhiskey.

By the time Severus made it back to his quarters that night, after dinner and his meeting with Slughorn, he thought it had to be one of the longest days of his life. He knew it actually wasn't, by far, but he was more than ready to go to sleep. Getting into his sensible black pyjamas, he searched his cabinets for Dreamless Sleep knowing that it would be needed tonight.

After an extensive search and finding none, he remembered that all his portions were in Harry's room. _Why can't at least one thing today be easy_ he questioned angrily heading out of his room into Harry's. Trying not to look around, he went to the lavatory and searched through the variety of potions until he came to the familiar purple one. The addictive qualities of the Dreamless Sleep didn't matter much for Harry in the end when they were only making sure he was as comfortable as possible, especially to sleep.

Grabbing the phial and opening it in one swift movement, he brought it to his lips and drank it. He looked around, shook his head in defeat and walked out making it only as far as Harry's four poster bed. Climbing into the bed, right on top of the green plush bedspread, his head nestled on the soft pillow, he promptly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: A Whole New World


	3. A Whole New World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also starts the changing of POV between Harry and Snape. I'll make the transitions very clear, but if you do miss one, keep an eye on how Snape is referred to... Severus in his own POV and Snape in Harry's.
> 
> Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing from Harry Potter! Since this chapter puts us back into canon, the italics at the beginning are all from the books and belong to J.K. Rowling, with a few edits for the different POV

~~~~SS~~~~

A thick red mist surrounded Severus in his dreams that night. Severus was oddly aware of his presence in the mist. As it separated, he could now see the scene in front of him, red mist only lingering along the edges, top, and bottom.

_He looked around and saw he was in his potions classroom. In front of him was a class of first years, faces so eager he knew this had to be their first day. Sitting in front of him was eleven year old Harry. Severus realized he must be viewing a memory._

_"Ah, Yes," he heard himself say softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."_

_Severus tossed and turned, feeling his anxiety start to rise. He always regretted how he had treated Harry in that first term. He didn't start really seeing Harry until the Christmas holiday break._

_The red mist took over again and when it opened, Severus and Albus were standing at the Yule Ball_

_"Well?" murmured Albus._

_"Karkaroff's Mark is becoming darker too. He is panicking, he fears retribution; you know how much help he gave the Ministry after the Dark Lord fell." Severus looked sideways at Albus's profile. "Karkaroff intends to flee if the Mark burns."_

_"Does he?" said Albus softly, as Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies came giggling in from the grounds. "And are you tempted to join him?"_

_"No," said Severus, his black eyes on Fleur's and Roger's retreating figures. "I am not such a coward."_

Watching the scene play out, the real Severus was extremely confused. That never happened, how could this be a memory?

This time the red mist came in quickly and exited just as fast and he was now standing in the hospital wing with Harry, looking about 15, laying on one of the beds clearly injured. In front of him was himself speaking to Albus again.

_"Severus," said Albus, turning to the memory-Severus, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready. . . if you are prepared. . . "_

_"I am," said memory-Severus looking slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittering strangely._

Severus started thrashing around the bed, tangling himself up in the bedspread.

_The mist returned and at this point Severus was getting angry. Something strange was definitely going on. When the mist opened, he was in his office with Harry who looked only slightly older than the last memory - he called them that only because he knew he couldn't be dreaming. A quick series of scenes flashed._

_Harry was on his knees, his face buried in his hands as if his brain ached._

_"Get up!" said memory-Severus sharply. "Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort. You are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!"_

_Then suddenly without leaving the office the scene slightly changed. It was still Harry and Severus, but clearly a different time frame._

_"That is just as well, Potter," said memory-Severus coldly, "because you are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters."_

_"No-that's your job, isn't it?" Harry shot at him._

_For a long moment they stared at each other and a curious, almost satisfied expression crossed memory-Severus's face when he answered._

_"Yes, Potter," he said, his eyes glinting. "That is my job."_

_Now Severus was completely confused, Potter? he thought to himself, why did I call Harry "Potter"?_

_The mist completely covered and when it finally cleared, Severus was happy to see it thin out, almost completely gone. Hopefully this meant whatever he was stuck in was almost over._

_Opening up, Severus found himself in an office he didn't recognize. The walls were coated in pink with pictures of cats covering them. The scene in front of him was more confusing than any of the others. A toad-like woman, dressed head to toe in pink, that he didn't recognize, was standing there talking with the memory-Severus as if she had some kind of authority over him. Around the room Harry's friends were being held by his own Slytherins._

_And then out of almost nowhere, Harry spoke to the memory-Severus, "He's got Padfoot!" Harry shouted. "He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!"_

_Memory-Severus had stopped with his hand on the door handle._

_"Padfoot?" cried the toad-like woman, looking eagerly from Harry to memory-Severus. "What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?"_

_Memory-Severus looked round at Harry. His face was inscrutable._

_"I have no idea," said memory-Severus coldly. "Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me I shall give you a Babbling Beverage... " And then everything went pitch black._

* * *

Severus jumped up out of bed so fast he nearly tumbled to the floor. Covered in sweat he tried to rationalize what he had just experienced. Those couldn't have been dreams, I took Dreamless Sleep last night. Maybe it was a bad batch he thought as he finally looked around at his surroundings.

_How did I get to my bedroom?_

He remembered falling asleep in Harry's bedroom, on top of his favorite green bedspread, and yet he was definitely now in his room, in his own bed.

Taking a breath to clear his mind, he got up and walked to his lavatory. Looking at himself in the mirror, he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Doing a quick double take he looked down at his hands, yes something was different, his hands were trembling. It's probably just adrenaline from whatever that was last night, but again intuition took over and he knew it felt like the reaction to the Cruciatus curse. Tabling that thought in his mind, he continued on with getting ready for the day.

He was exiting the bedroom 45 minutes later in his casual attire feeling better now that he was more removed from the strange dream-memories. Unfortunately, that only lasted 15 seconds until he crossed the hallway towards the kitchen and noticed only 1 door on the left instead of the normal two. Anger flashed across his eyes when he realized the missing door was to Harry's room.

_What the hell was Albus thinking?! Did he really remove Harry's room? Without at least consulting me first?_

Fire burning in his mind and ready to have it out with the Headmaster first thing this morning, he continued into the sitting room towards the floo. Stopping dead in his tracks, he gasped as he looked around. There was the sofa, two arms chairs, and table where he remembered them, but instead of the comfortable worn sofa Harry had taken to sleeping on, there was a more modern one. On the coffee table, parchment was scattered as if he had been doing last minute marking for classes - in past years, as term was coming to an end, he preferred marking in the sitting room instead of his office. Would Slughorn really want him to start marking his end of year work? Even if he did, how would he have started already? He could clearly see his red handwriting on the top essay. The room looked as if he had left in a hurry whenever that was and it was definitely not the same room he was in the night previous.

The biggest change of all, and the one that finally removed his anger and replaced it with intense grief, was that every picture of Harry was missing. Falling to his knees yet again, he tried to imagine why this was happening. Feeling completely defeated, he sat on the floor trying to work through what had happened and how he could fix it.

After roughly 5 minutes on the floor, he determined he had to be asleep. There was no other way to explain everything that he'd seen that morning. Of course, everything felt far too real to be a dream, but that was the only logical explanation. Using the table to help himself stand up, he stopped immediately when he saw the date 19.06.96 That's impossible, he thought to himself. How could a whole month have passed without his knowledge? If it did somehow, because he didn't know what else to think, is that why all of Harry's things are gone? Had he packed them all away and reverted his quarters back to the pre-Harry configuration and not remembered?

Deciding he needed some answers, he got up and stormed to his door. Grabbing his robes, he thrust the door open and exited his quarters deciding that breakfast in the Great Hall was as good a place as any to start getting them.

* * *

Entering the Great Hall, everything looked and seemed normal. The hall was lively with student chatter as everyone was excited for the last week of term. Severus carefully took his seat to the right of Minerva who was in deep conversation with Albus. Not wanting to appear suspicious, he decided he needed to wait until their conversation was completed.

He was just about to serve himself some breakfast when he felt a tap on his right shoulder. Turning around, he saw Poppy waiting behind him with a phial of what he instantly recognized as Nerve Regenerative Potion.

"Oh Severus," she said, clicking her tongue. "I'm so glad to see you this morning! I expected you to stop by last night and was already worrying myself on what could have happened should you not be here this morning."

Severus noticed the worry in her eyes as she handed him the phial. "I can see you need this," she said looking down at his trembling hands. Leaning in she whispered, "I keep telling Albus that it's not worth it. Whatever you think you owe him, it's not worth what you have to go through." She squeezed his shoulder.

Severus rolled his eyes as his head started aching. Imagines of the Dark Lord flashed across his eyes and he was all of a sudden aware that the Dark Lord was angry with him about not being somewhere. That can't be right, the Dark Lord has not returned.

"Thank you Poppy," was all he could think to say.

"Oh Severus!" He heard Minerva say too loudly into his ear, clearly upset, and he had the sudden urge to ignore whatever it was she wanted to tell him. "It's unfortunate we have to have this conversation, but if you could please cease your antagonistic remarks to Mr. Potter, I would be much appreciative."

He jerked his head back as if he had just been slapped. Stop my what? Trying to keep his breathing normal he replied, "I assure you, I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that Severus. The poor boy has suffered enough, he doesn't need your apparent gloating on top of it," she huffed. "All I ask is that you hold any further remarks until next year. And yes, before you question me, I am assuming Mr. Potter will receive an Outstanding on his potion O.W.L. to make your class next year. His ambition is to be an Auror you know."

Now she had his full attention. There was so much wrong with her statements that he didn't know where to start. Why is she calling Harry "Mr. Potter" to him? All the professors called him "Harry" once Severus took over his guardianship and was responsible for his grades and disciplinary records.

Then there was the fact that Harry took his O.W.L.s last year and while it took a lot of extra studying on both their parts throughout the year, Harry had received an O mark on his potions exam and was in Severus's N.E.W.T. class, at least until it became too much for either of them to handle. And that all was, of course, ignoring the bigger issue that Harry had been buried 2 days ago... Or a month ago, depending on whatever Severus believed was going on.

As he was about to question Minerva about whatever nonsense she was rattling about, his eye caught sight of the Gryffindor table beyond her and he heard himself audibly gasp. Sitting at the table, alone and sullen, in his full Gryffindor uniform, was Harry.

He needed answers right now.

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall alone in his thoughts. He didn't care what anyone else said, it was his fault Sirius died at the Department of Mysteries just like it was his fault his friends had been so badly injured. Adding the whole prophecy issue and he really just wanted to leave. Even being at the Dursley's would be better than the constant reminders Hogwarts gives him.

Pushing his breakfast around, he felt an elbow jab him in the ribs.

"What did ya do to Professor Snape?" Dean said warningly. " He's starin' at you like he's seen a ghost."

Harry looked up at the head table and sure enough Snape was staring right at him looking like he was about to storm over and strangle him.

"Does that really surprise you?" Harry commented nonchalantly. "I just breathe and he wants to kill me."

Looking back up, Snape was still staring at him, his face paler than normal, looking like Harry was a puzzle to be solved. As he saw Snape stand up, Harry collected his stuff determined to get out of there before his most hated professor could approach him.

Of course, Harry wasn't that lucky this morning and instead he heard, "Please stop by my office this morning Ha - Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up to see Snape eyeing him like he was planning which parts of Harry he could use as potions ingredients.

"Erm... I have History of Magic this morning," was the only thing Harry could think to say.

Anger flashed through Snape's black eyes as they peered into Harry's emerald ones. Harry gulped back his own anger and fear.

"I didn't ask what your first class was, I asked you to stop by my office," was all Snape said as he walked away.

"Rott'n luck," said Dean going back to his breakfast.

~~~~SS~~~~

A half hour later, Severus was sitting at his desk in his office trying to stay patient when it was obvious Harry ignored his request to meet him. Trying to sort through everything he knew, his headache growing by the second, he looked down at a set of exams on the desktop - specifically the date. Written in the corner was **17.06.96** which caused Severus to question what the actual date was today.

There was a knock on his door breaking his concentration.

"Come in," he demanded angrily assuming it was Harry finally deciding to show up.

Instead, it was one of his Slytherins who entered and cautiously said, "Sir, everyone is in the classroom and wondering if you were coming or not."

"Shit," Severus quietly swore. Clearly he'd seen all the kids wearing school robes at breakfast so it was a school day. "Class is cancelled today. As a 7th year at the end of term, if you haven't learned it by now there's no point in wasting anyone's time..."

He paused thinking really hard about whom he was talking to. This was Quintin Sarquell who would have graduated last year. Combining that with what Minerva said about Harry having just taken his O.W.L.s caused everything to start falling into place.

"What's the date today?" He asked with more panic in his voice than he'd hoped.

"Um... sir?" Quintin asked. "It's Monday June 24th."

"And the year?" Severus was getting impatient as the wheels in his head started turning. He'd gone back in time, that much was already obvious although he was embarrassed to admit it took this long to figure it out.

"Uh, 1996. Is everything ok sir?" He now sounded worried. "Do you need me to get Madam Pomfrey?"

"Not at all. You're dismissed and class is cancelled for today," Severus said with authority, then watched Quintin tentatively leave.

_That solves one piece of the puzzle. Clearly the red potion did something._

He worked through in his head. But if it was June 24th, he already missed Harry's diagnosis and start of treatment since that had happened earlier in June.

Unless he hasn't been diagnosed yet he reasoned with himself as another thought crept into his mind.

Something was different with their relationship. He woke up this morning with no trace of Harry in his quarters like he'd expected to see. Minerva was colder with him regarding his interactions with Harry, and then there was Harry's response to seeing him at the Gryffindor table. Things weren't adding up. His stomach dropped as the final puzzle piece locked into place.

Unless... He said to himself as pain erupted through his head giving him all the missing memories from the past 5 years. Notably missing was the one where he discovered Harry's abuse from his relatives which had triggered him taking guardianship and the start of a completely different lifetime.

~~~~HP~~~~

"Did you guys hear the great news!" Ron exclaimed as he sat down next to Harry at lunch. " Snape cancelled all his classes today! We have a free double period this afternoon."

"That's concerning Ronald," Hermione lectured. "Professor Snape has never cancelled class before. Something pretty big must be going on." She sounded more concerned than Harry thought she ought to.

"Well, whatever it is that greasy git won't be getting any sympathy from me!" Ron said as he shoved a handful of crisps into his mouth.

Harry listened to them bicker back and forth just ready for the day and term to be over. Since the Department of Mysteries, he hadn't had the energy to care about much else besides leaving Hogwarts.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked while giving him a worried look. Since Sirius died, she'd been keeping a closer than normal eye on him.

"I'm fine Hermione, just haven't been sleeping well," he lied. The truth was, while he expected nightmares to keep him up, he'd been so fatigued he had no problem falling asleep and he actually was having no nightmares at all for the first time since the third task. Ironically, now the problem was that he wasn't waking up feeling rested.

Hermione eyed him carefully, keeping in mind the signs of depression she'd read about yesterday. "Why don't you take this afternoon to rest since we no longer have Potions."

Looking up from his still full plate, he saw Snape come into the Great Hall.

"You know what? That's a great idea Hermione," he said collecting his bag this time determined to leave before Snape could approach him. "I'll see you guys later."

He managed to get up and, walking briskly, left the Great Hall before Snape could catch up. Before the doors closed, he looked over his shoulder and saw Snape standing in the middle of the hall staring at him and Harry could have sworn he saw a brief look of sadness cross the man's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: What's Really Going On


	4. What's Really Going On

Two days later, Harry still couldn't shake the fatigue. All he had to do was make it 3 more days and he would be back at the Dursleys, not that he would get any more rest there, but at least he wouldn't have Ron and Hermione breathing down his throat all the time. He hated people worrying and fussing about him.

"Mr. Potter," he heard as he was shaken awake by Hermione during Transfiguration class.

Raising his head up so quickly he suddenly felt light-headed, Professor McGonagall was wearing a frown on her face as she looked at him.

She continued, "Mr. Potter, might I suggest setting an earlier bedtime for yourself if you can't make it through the day without falling asleep in my class!"

Harry felt his face flushing red as he was reprimanded in class, trying to ignore the snickering around him. While he was used to public humiliation from Snape, it was different coming from Professor McGonagall especially for something like sleeping in class.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed at him with wide eyes.

Harry gave her a confused look as Professor McGonagall said, "Oh my! Mr. Potter please follow me to my office." She gave him a look of concern and waved him towards the door on the side of the classroom.

For a split second, Harry was confused, still in the process of waking up from his impromptu nap, when he felt warm liquid on his upper lip. Putting his hand to his face, he drew it back and saw blood on his hand. He stood up tasting copper as he walked into Professor McGonagall's office.

She handed him a handkerchief and asked, "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"I don't know what you're talking about professor," not a complete lie Harry rationalized, as he had no idea what was going on. "I'm fine," he conceded after looking at her no-nonsense look.

"Oh Harry," Professor McGonagall said sympathetically. "I know it's been a rough year for you, especially this past week, it may just be a reaction to it all, but either way, I'd like you to visit the hospital wing. I'll give you a note dismissing you from the rest of classes today."

Harry grudgingly took the note and the second handkerchief from Professor McGonagall, since his nose was still actively bleeding, and left her office for the hospital wing. He debated going back to the tower instead to finish his nap and even starting walking that direction, but after about a minute when the nosebleed still didn't stop, he turned around towards the hospital wing.

If he had been paying more attention he would have heard the voices coming from the hospital wing before he entered. He would have been able to continue avoiding the one person he absolutely didn't want to see.

"Harry," he was brought back to reality by the shock of hearing Snape call him by his given name.

Looking over his bloody nose, he noticed Snape walking away from the bed of a second year Hufflepuff and towards him.

"Um, sir. Where's Madam Pomfrey?" He asked trying his hardest not to make eye contact. There was no way he was going to risk Snape using Legilimency on him.

"She's been called away. I'm filling in while she's gone." He held Harry's chin up to get a better look at his nose. "Care to tell me what happened Mr. Potter?"

"I wasn't in a fight, if that's what you mean!" Harry immediately defended himself. "Are you even qualified to treat students?"

"I highly doubt Madam Pomfrey nor the Headmaster would allow me to fill in if I wasn't qualified," he shot back while leading Harry to a bed. Taking a calming breath he added, "As part of my Potions Mastery, I'm required to be sufficient in many aspects of medi-wizardry."

Harry was deeply confused by what was going on, if he didn't already know Snape he would accuse the man of being civil to him. Since that _absolutely_ couldn't happen, Harry decided he must be fishing for things to tell his Slytherins.

"It was nothing," Harry said randomly. "Erm...I mean I didn't _do_ anything to cause the nosebleed... Sir," the last word added as an afterthought. By the look in Snape's eyes, he seemed to believe Harry. "It seems to have stopped, so I'll just be going."

He went to stand up, but Snape immediately pushed his shoulder down. "You walked into this hospital wing, Mr. Potter, I have to at least have a look at it."

Harry felt the distinct tickle of a diagnostic charm running over his body. Snape's eyebrows lowered in confusion. "Are you injured anywhere else?"

"Erm... No sir," Harry answered questioningly wondering what the potions professor was up to and not trusting him one bit.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus spent the last two days piecing together the past 5 years worth of memories. It seemed that both sets of memories we're co-existing in his head, which was more than a little confusing. In his new reality, he and Harry still shared a mutual hatred for each other. The events leading to their reconciliation, guardianship, and beyond never happened. It felt like losing his son all over again.

Even worse, because of their lack of trust from 1st year forward, the Dark Lord had the opportunity to return. After pulling up some key memories, it seemed in his original reality, being a trusted adult for Harry to rely on stopped all the efforts made by the Dark Lord. In this reality, everything played out so much worse leading up to him becoming a spy again and the events of last week at the Department of Mysteries where Sirius was inevitably killed.

While trying to figure out if there was a way to reconcile his relationship with Harry in this reality, he made it a point to observe Harry from a distance and not try to have any one-on-one encounters.

That all changed when Harry walked into the hospital wing with a severe bloody nose while he was covering a shift for Madam Pomfrey. Looking at the amount of blood, he immediately had a flashback to the bloody noses _his Harry_ used to get as they are a very common sign of Leukemia and was one of _his Harry's_ first symptoms.

He couldn't contain his surprise, causing him to slip up and call out, "Harry".

The surprised look on the teenager's face showed just how much he screwed up with that simple word. The Severus of this reality would never dare call the boy in front of him by his given name.

After attempting to rectify the situation and clearly failing, he decided to just run a full diagnostic charm and see what turns up. In his reality, only the symptoms of the Leukemia were spotted by magical scans, but it was worth a try.

Severus's eyebrows lowered in confusion as he saw something wrong with Harry's lower arm. He asked "Are you injured anywhere else?"

"Erm... No sir," Harry answered questioningly. Severus could hear the distrust in Harry's voice and it hurt.

Severus instinctively grabbed Harry's arm and Harry quickly pulled it away, almost falling off the bed in the process.

Letting go quickly and holding up his hands to show he meant no harm, Severus explained, "I need to see your arm. The diagnostic charm showed some damage on the underside of your left arm."

Harry gave a very skeptical look as he held his left arm with his right. "Uh, thank you sir but I'll just be going now."

Severus looked at Harry sternly. "I'll be right back Mr. Potter and when I return, please have your left arm available to examine" he explained and turned around closing the curtains around the bed as he left.

Once in Poppy's office, he leaned over her desk, holding the edges with his hands for support. This was not going to be easy to do. He pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill to write Poppy a note. He needed to find a way to tell her to send Harry to St. Mungo's for the necessary muggle testing needed to check for Leukemia. It had already been a month later than the diagnosis in his reality, and Severus remembered how early detection was directly linked to the survival rate.

He also needed to make sure that she was none the wiser that he knew about it. Not knowing who to trust with his alternate reality memories, he was trying to blend in as much as possible to the new reality.

Covering face with his hand, he tried to think ahead on how he was going to pull this off while being the greasy dungeon bat plus Death Eater spy. For the first time, he questioned if he made the right decision to drink the red potion.

Heading back to Harry's bed, he pulled back the curtain half preparing himself for Harry to be gone. He was pleasantly surprised to see that not only was Harry still here, he had removed his robes and had his left arm ready. The look on his face confirmed what Severus had feared. Harry had no idea about the large bruise on the underside of his arm.

"Ok Potter, let me have a look," he said as clinically as possible. "Are you sure you weren't in a fight recently?"

"I _already_ told you I wasn't," Harry frustratingly replied.

"Then how do you explain this bruise?" Severus asked with a puzzling tone. If he led Harry to the right questions to ask it would make this whole process easier.

"You know what?" Harry half-screamed. "I don't need this. I'll come back when Madam Pomfrey's back." He stood up, pulled his sleeve down, grabbed his robe and ran from the hospital wing.

That did not go as Severus had hoped, but at the same time he was not at all surprised by the reaction. When Madam Pomfrey returned, he'd recommend she send Harry to St. Mungo's for additional testing. _There's no way he'll let me be involved though._

He started cleaning up the hospital wing and inventorying the supplies so he could get a head start on replenishing the potions this summer when Madam Pomfrey entered about an hour later.

"Thank you Severus," she exclaimed as she huffed into the room. "I hope everything was calm while I was gone. The end of the year can be hit or miss."

"It was fine Poppy," Severus said, putting the last couple phials of pain potion back on the shelf. "Just a Hufflepuff that somehow managed to miss a vanishing stair," he paused to clear his mind from that image, "and Mr. Potter was in with a bloody nose and a deep bruise on his left arm"

Poppy looked at him expecting an acerbic response. Getting nothing she continued, "Please don't tell me he was muggle fighting."

"He claims not," Severus treaded lightly. "The bruise was in an odd location and he didn't remember receiving it plus there was no bruising or anything really around his nose."

A comfortable silence fell across the two adults while Poppy assisted Severus with potion inventory.

"I can tell you're deep in thought Severus," Poppy turned to him with a maternal look in her eyes. "I know your dislike for the boy, but you have a duty to help if help is needed.

_You have absolutely no idea Poppy_

Having played directly into his Slytherin plan, he said "The diagnostic charm showed nothing abnormal, but I'd recommend sending him to St. Mungo's for further evaluation." After a quick internal debate about how much detail it was safe to provide he added, "It might not be a bad idea to do some muggle testing. He has no real medical records outside of his plentiful visits here."

"If you think so, I'll review your notes and the diagnostic charm results before writing up the referral for Professor McGonagall to give him," she was writing down the inventory results as she spoke. "Here's the list of what's needed this summer. I take it this is all you need to get started."

Taking the list and looking it over, he questioned why he wasn't in a position that challenged his skill more. He could make standard student-level potions in his sleep.

"This will do," he said walking out the door back to his dungeon.

* * *

The end of term came at an excruciatingly slow pace. Severus was having a difficult time trying to play the part in his new reality. On the one hand he liked that he could maintain plenty of space from the students and professors but it came at a cost of never getting to be around Harry. Through his subtle spying techniques, he was able to deduce that the new Harry was quieter, more isolated, and at times bolder than _his Harry_. His observations concerned him deeply, but without causing any suspicion he couldn't act upon anything yet.

It was with these thoughts that he found himself a week later having dinner with the rest of the staff. Lost in his thoughts, his ears caught the tail end of the conversation between Poppy and Minerva when he heard them discussing Harry.

"... Mr. Potter never showed up," Poppy looked concerned. Severus correctly assumed this was in reference to the St. Mungo's visit.

"Oh dear, part of that is my fault," Minerva said. She didn't look as concerned as Severus thought she ought to. "I gave him the St. Mungo's referral, but since a guardian needs to accompany him I asked if he wanted me to go explain the situation to his relatives. They're muggles and I wasn't sure how much they would understand."

Severus's blood went cold. It sounded like Harry had gone back to this aunt and uncle's house. He had assumed that he would be at Grimmauld Place with Sirius, or now, one of the other order members. Why would Albus send him back to his relatives? _I may have been the first adult to notice the abuse but I couldn't have been the_ _ **only**_ _adult?_

"He assured me that they'll take him when he gets back over the summer," she had a sad look on her face. "He didn't make it sound like it was a big deal, but I was going to stop by there this week if he hadn't been yet - which it looks like he hasn't."

Not being able to keep quiet any longer Severus said, "Well of course he said that and then had absolutely no intention of following through." If he played his Slytherin cards right again, this could end up in his favor.

"Severus," Minerva warningly said, placing her fork down a touch too forcefully, "Harry is a responsible young man, not that you would have noticed at all. I don't need you to get involved in matters that don't concern you."

"If I may Minerva," he lectured, "I was the first one to examine Mr. Potter and it was originally my recommendation to send him to a healer. So unfortunately, I'm already involved"

"By all means, if you think you could handle this matter more appropriately, maybe you should just be the one to go and take him?" Minerva said, highly offended. "I don't know how you handle your Slytherins, but I like to think that 16 years old is old enough to have some control over his own choices."

Severus rolled his eyes. Of course she would think that. In fact, from what he knew in the other reality Minerva has a very "hands off" approach to her Gryffindors.

"I will not be wasting my time in muggle Surrey simply because you failed to see that your Golden Boy has zero sense of self-preservation," Severus exclaimed.

"We'll see about that," Minerva looked down right pleased with herself and Severus almost smiled because she was none the wiser.

* * *

"Absolutely not," Severus yelled at Albus later that night. _Could it really have been that easy_?

Albus had predictably firecalled Severus and asked to speak to him about an important matter for the Order. So he sat down on the unfamiliar sofa across from Albus, who was wearing his ridiculously bright purple and silver robes, expecting the Headmaster to get his opinion about Harry's health. He never expected Albus to immediately ask him to take over for Minerva instead.

"Did you really think I would just come out and volunteer for this?" Severus did his best to raise his occlumency shields making sure to hide his true intentions just in case. "Have you finally lost it and gone mad?"

"No Severus, after speaking with Minerva about the conversation you had with her over dinner, I think I finally have my mind fully aware of what is actually going on here," he said calmly with a twinkle in his eye. "I'd like to speak freely if it's agreeable to you?"

"Of course!" the Potion Master spat back, standing up and pacing across the floor threshold. _This can't get any better._

"We both know why you need to be the one to go," he said cautiously. "Why you _want_ to be the one to go."

Severus stopped in his tracks. _No, he can't..._ Looking up slowly, he met Albus's eyes with his own. An entire conversation seemed to silently pass between them.

Finally, Severus said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then please allow me to explain it. Let me walk you through what I know," Albus said, not breaking eye contact. "I know that the phial of a very rare and magical potion I had sitting on my desk since before you were born went missing the same day my normally extremely reliable Potions Professor showed up late to breakfast and cancelled classes for the first time ever; and that he's been acting out of sorts since. I know that your current circumstances have something to do with Harry, though I must admit, my mind has not been able to come up with any logical reason why.

"What I don't know is the details of your circumstances prior to coming here. So now I ask you Severus, please fill me in so we can have an honest conversation about Harry and the situation we all find ourselves in," Albus casually said as he picked up his cup of tea and took a slow sip.

Severus stood still feeling like he couldn't move or else the delicate life he's been living would start to unravel. Trying to look anywhere but at Albus's face he took in the sight around him. The furniture that wasn't quite his, the books in the bookcases lining the sitting room reminding him of all the extra studying he and Harry had done throughout the years, but what hit him most was the missing pictures all of which he still carried the memories for every day. Feeling the intense grief coming back to settle into his chest, he turned around and sat back onto the sofa.

"I don't know where to start," Severus finally said, which was probably the most honest he'd been since waking up in this confusing reality.

"If I may, the beginning is usually a good place to start. Clearly something is different between you and Harry," Albus said sympathetically, almost like he already knew why Severus was struggling.

Staring at a small stone in the stone on the dungeon wall in front of him, Severus started, "You're right. Where I'm from, Harry is my son." Severus let go of the breath he hadn't realized he was holding

Albus looked shocked at hearing this, "You mean? You and Lily-"

"No," the younger man cut in. "I adopted him when he was 12, it was March 5th, 1993 and while I'd probably never openly admit it, it was one of the happiest days of my life. Definitely the most happy since losing Lily."

Severus placed his head in his hands feeling the weight of the boulder on chest start to lighten.

He continued, "I finally realized during the Christmas holiday break in his first year how alike we were. I promised myself the moment I moved away from my parents, I'd never let another child go through what I did." Meeting the Headmaster's eyes said sadly, "You were going to send him back there for the summer; I couldn't allow it and I didn't care what you said. If I'm honest, you probably wanted that to happen because you always seemed overly happy after that."

Albus nodded his head slowly. "So then what brought you here? What about Voldemort?"

Severus flinched as he lightly touched his left forearm. "In my other reality the Dark Lord hasn't come back yet. From what I've managed to piece together, the events occurred a little differently mostly due to Harry having a trusted adult to rely on. I'm guessing that's about change back there though... If back there still exists that is."

Albus's face lit up as he stood and started pacing. "Very, very interesting. Not how I would have expected it to go, but clearly it was working. Which leads us back to my other question - why are you here?"

Severus looked devastated and Albus gave him all the time he needed to compose himself. Taking another deep breath, the best he could say was, "I couldn't save him. I tried, I really did, but by the time we realized the potions weren't working it was too late and I was told by _my Albus_ that drinking that potion would allow me the chance to fix my mistakes."

The confused expression across Albus's face let Severus know he wasn't making sense to the man.

"He has Leukemia," Severus finally said. "It's cancer, a muggle disease, in his blood and rare for a wizard to get. I didn't spend a lot of energy trying to find out why he got it, I just wanted to cure him from it.

"Based on what I've seen from this Harry, he has it too. We found out after a Quidditch match when the bruises wouldn't heal. He also had a couple bad nosebleeds that had no apparent cause."

Albus took a deep breath, the wheels in his head clearly thinking through this new information. "So what went wrong? What do you believe you can do differently here?" He sat back down so both men were face to face.

"We were given two options for treatment - muggle or magical medications. I wanted muggle, but Harry flat out refused," he paused to gather his thoughts. "Neither was without risks, of course. The magic we tried is highly untested because wizards generally don't get cancer.

"Before we decided this route, I did a lot of research and discussed with other Potions Masters until, I thought, we found something that should have worked. We made it about 12 weeks before tests showed it wasn't effective, so we made some adjustments. It wasn't without its own set of side effects, but he was managing through them. That regimen was working for another 6 months with only minor changes needed, but one day after a status tested, that was it. Things spiraled out of control and about a month later he was gone."

Severus felt his hands start to shake. This needed to be discussed and he was happy to finally have someone who could help.

"The other option is what muggles use. It's called Chemotherapy and has a good success rate for this type of cancer when caught early enough, but it basically acts like a poison to kill off the cancer cells.

"The way it was explained to me, by the healers, was that it can't differentiate between the good and bad cells so in the process of killing the bad cells, the good ones are also attacked. In both a muggle and a wizard, that means some bad side effects, but a wizard also runs the risk of losing some or all of his magical signature. Harry's magic would essentially spend the entire time trying to heal him from the chemotherapy effects, which would then burn through his magical core from the constant use. Depending on how long the treatment took, worse case scenario he could end up without any magic left," Severus felt the last bit of the weight lift up from his chest.

Albus stared at the flames in the fireplace contemplating what this meant for their new world. "You're a brave man Severus, but of course I've always thought that of you in this world. Now I can see that it's a virtue you possess deep in your soul.

"You were left with an impossible choice to make and I fear one that won't be much easier here. Not only are we dealing with our Harry, who has very little trust in any adults, but we have Voldemort very much alive here and Harry is unfortunately a necessary participant in the war against him," Albus tried to make it sound as neutral as possible knowing Severus would clearly see the meaning behind those words.

"No you don't," Severus said angrily. "We already know this will kill him if we choose the Potions. Yes, I have a head start on the research, but at this point so does the cancer. I won't risk it."

"Unfortunately Severus," Albus didn't want to bring this up, but it couldn't be ignored, "you don't get a say in this. Harry's aunt and uncle are his legal guardians."

Angry with this realization Severus argued, "He at least needs a medical proxy which shouldn't be difficult seeing as his relatives despise anything magical including Harry. They would probably let him die before taking him for treatment, which should be reason enough to grant a proxy." Still angry with Albus for leaving Harry with his abusive relatives, he hoped that soon it would be a moot point.

"How do you suggest we move forward?" It surprised Severus that the Headmaster would seek his opinion.

"He needs to go to St. Mungo's. Minerva should go discuss it with his relatives and then take him."

It hurt Severus to admit he shouldn't be involved, but Harry wouldn't trust a single thing he said right now and they wouldn't get anywhere. He picked up his cold tea, casting a quick non-verbal wandless warming charm, and took a sip. He could really use some firewhiskey after the conversation tonight.

"No Severus, I think you're quite incorrect on at least half of that assessment. I think you need to go get the boy. If my memory serves me correctly, you have history with his aunt which can be advantageous to us in this endeavor," Albus's eyes twinkled as he made eye contact with Severus's dark, sad ones. _This should be very interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Back at Privet Drive


	5. Back at Privet Drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to call it out before anyone else does - I know Harry would get blamed for doing underaged magic when Snape does it (and around muggles). I had a whole explanation ready to write, but in the end I removed it because while it closed the loophole it was awkward and didn't bring anything else to the story. So, for this fic the ministry can tell if the magic done is underage and since Harry is recorded as living with muggle relatives, they don't count toward the magical secrecy law.

**_3rd July, 1996_ **

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry was laying on his scarcely clad bed in the smallest bedroom of number 4 Privet Drive, trying his hardest not to fall asleep, knowing the moment he did he would be called down to help Aunt Petunia make dinner. His window was cracked open bringing in the warm summer breeze to help clear out the stuffy feeling of the small bedroom.

He'd only been back at the Dursley's for half a week and he already felt dead to the world both physically and mentally. The only good thing about his current mood was that, for some reason, his relatives had pretty much left him to do his chores and go to bed. He didn't have the energy to say much back to them anyways.

He had spent the day out in the garden cleaning out the weeds, painting the fence, and watering the flowers. By mid-afternoon, he was back in his room where he practically passed out on the bed not even bothering to change out of his sweaty, dirty clothing. He guessed it was about 2 hours later, but his eyes were so heavy with fatigue, he could barely hold a conscious , he felt like it should have been an easy day yet he felt drained and extremely sore.

He had been trying his hardest not to think about Sirius and the Department of Mysteries, but each night he had been haunted with nightmares about those awful events, making it nearly impossible to forget during the waking hours. He would then feel the suffocating loneliness seep into him.

_I killed the one person who really cared about me and could give me a family... Just like I got my parents killed._

Realizing he was never going to get another letter from Sirius immediately made his end of summer seem miles away. The irony was not lost on him that he spent the final days at Hogwarts waiting to leave and now he just wanted to go back. It was as if he didn't really belong anywhere anymore.

"BOY!"

The young wizard's head didn't even flinch hearing Uncle Vernon yell for him at the bottom of the stairs. He easily had another minute or two before the man got really angry. Hearing the lumbering footsteps coming up the stairs caused his eyes to at least open and he considered sitting up.

"Boy, you get out here at once!" Vernon screamed as he banged on the door. It opened just as Harry managed to sit up and swing his sore legs over to the side of the bed.

"Did you want something Uncle Vernon," Harry asked sarcastically. "I'm not sure the rest of the neighborhood could hear you."

"Don't you talk to me like that boy or you'll stay in this room for the next week," Vernon threatened as he pulled the small boy up by his shirt. Harry flinched expecting a blow that, thankfully, didn't come. Thinking it over, the idea of staying in his room for a week didn't sound so bad at the moment, but he wasn't about to say so. Instead he just looked at his uncle like he had grown an extra head.

Vernon continued, "We're going out tonight." Harry looked down at his grass stained jeans and oversized shirt with a streak of dirt across the front. Vernon looked disgusted with Harry, "Not you boy. The rest of us and you are to stay in this room for the rest of the night"

"Of course," Harry rolled his eyes, _how dare I think something stupid like that._

Without another word, Vernon slammed the door right in his nephew's face. Harry sighed secretly happy he would not be having to cook dinner tonight and could just turn in early.

After about an hour, the Dursleys were gone, Harry was showered, and back in his bed. Sitting up against the wall, he was trying to read _Quidditch through the Ages_ for probably the tenth time, but he couldn't focus on any of the words. His mind started wandering back to the Department of Mysteries and the veil when he felt a slow trickle down his upper lip. As he brought his hand towards his nose, drops of blood started falling onto the book and streaking the pages.

"Bloody hell," Harry said out loud sitting up and grabbing for an old t-shirt draped over the back of his desk chair. Walking out of his bedroom towards the bathroom, he heard a loud knock on the front door.

_Whoever it is can wait, they're obviously not here for me._

Harry ran into the lavatory flipping the light on as he entered and immediately went to the sink. He had his head lifted back as he pulled the shirt away to see the steady stream of blood pouring down into his mouth. Turning the faucet on, he spit into the sink and used his hands to clean the blood off his nose.

As he turned off the water and raised his head to grab some tissue - the blood finally slowing down - he heard soft, slow, and steady footsteps coming up the stairs. Clearly, not one of the Dursley's since none of them could produce footsteps that even and slow. He instinctively grabbed for his wand, cursing silently when he remembered that it was locked in the cupboard under the stairs with his trunk and all his other magical possessions. A quick check around the lavatory didn't show much he could use against a Death Eater, so he grabbed the only thing he could think to use - the plunger.

His heart was pounding against his chest as he lifted the plunger up above his head. Hearing the footsteps just outside the door, he slowed his breathing and pulled the cracked door wide open as he brought the plunger down as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, the intruder was faster and grabbed the plunger before it could hit him on the head and yanked it out of Harry's hands.

"Potter! What are you thinking?!," he heard the dark voice of his Potions Professor exclaim.

"Snape?" He asked cautiously, thinking about how much trouble he had to be in for almost hitting his most hated professor with a plunger, of all things.

"For Merlin's sake, if you need a weapon from the lavatory, at least use the top of the toilet," Snape lectured. "You wouldn't take down a soul with, what is this-" he looked at the make-shift weapon he was holding, "- a plunger?"

Harry felt his face flush immediately at the thought of getting lectured about weapons from Snape. _I'm sure he could find a deadly weapon in any room of the house._ He shivered at the thought.

"What are you doing here sir?" Harry sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub finally taking in the sight of the Potion Master. He was wearing a muggle looking outfit of black trousers and a black buttoned down shirt. Without his black overcoat and teaching robes, he looked almost normal and less threatening.

"I knocked on the door but no one answered," Snape explained. Harry had no way of knowing that the man already knew his relatives never took him out anywhere, so with their car being gone he knew Harry would be alone. "What happened? More muggle fighting?," he asked looking at the leftover drying blood from Harry's nosebleed.

Furious, Harry answered, "I was _not_ fighting. And you never answered my question, what. are. you. doing. here?" He let the lack of " sir" at the end hang between them.

"The Headmaster and Professor McGonagall sent me to discuss your lack of responsibility by not showing up for your consultation at St. Mungo's," he gave Harry a stern look from top to bottom. "Based on what I see in front of me, you'd best think twice before telling me you're 'fine'."

"Well... I am fine! What's it to you anyways?" Harry called back feeling a bit childish but not caring at the moment.

"Like I said before," Snape replied, "I drew the preverbal short straw."

They both were staring at each other, Harry from the edge of the bathtub and Snape standing by the sink, neither wanting to make the first move. Finally, Harry didn't have the energy to fight anymore. In the end, if he wanted to get Snape to leave, he had to give in somewhere. The man wasn't just going to walk away. If that were the case, he wouldn't have broken into the house to start with. "Why don't we at least go downstairs?"

Getting up from the uncomfortable edge of the bathtub, the Boy-Who-Lived stealthily grabbed at his right leg in slight pain, unaware that Snape saw the small movement. Rubbing his hand across his forehead, he walked past the Potions Professor and started walking down the stairs.

"Did you seriously break into my Aunt and Uncle's house?" Harry asked halfway down the staircase. "Who does something like that?"

"Clearly, I suspected you were home," Snape said, taking in the house around him. "I saw your relatives leave and wanted a chance to speak to you without them present."

Harry's emerald eyes squinted thinking about what he just heard. It sounded awfully suspicious to Harry, and all of a sudden he had the realization that Snape could easily kidnap him and bring him directly to Voldemort. The git probably wouldn't lose an ounce of sleep from it either.

Walking tentatively into the kitchen, Harry threw himself down into one of the chairs at the supper table. Looking out the window, there was still plenty of daylight being early in the night and he enviously watched a couple neighborhood boys playing football in the street. The thought of dinner crossed his mind as he easily could sneak something with the Dursley's gone, but for once his stomach wasn't even a touch hungry. There was no way he was offering anything to Snape either; _he can just sit there staring at me for all I care, the_ messy haired teen thought to himself.

"Listen Potter," Snape started, "I don't like this any more than you do, so let's just get this over with. Madam Pomfrey specifically told you to go to St. Mungo's for follow up testing," he spoke to Harry in a very short manner as if Harry couldn't understand English.

"And yet, you completely ignored that recommendation. I'll let you know, Poppy made special arrangements with a colleague of hers, at the Headmaster's request, to maintain your anonymity while there and you can't even bother to show up," the potions master was getting angry now and Harry backed up in his chair to put some more distance between them.

"I told you," Harry had his jaw clenched, "I'm fine. I don't need to go anywhere. I just need to be left alone!"

"Oh, excuse me, it looks to me you are anything _but_ fine. For starters, you had another serious looking bloody nose when I managed to sneak up on you in the lavatory," Snape crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the skinny teen in front of him, taking in the dark circles under both his eyes. "You absolutely look fine. I'll just let the headmaster know that you're not limping down the stairs or appear like you're going to fall asleep right in front of me."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose then took a deep breath. Steepling his fingers he said, "You do need a guardian to go with you. I can discuss it with your Aunt and Uncle if you need me to."

"Ha!" Harry sarcastically laughed, "Good luck getting them to sign off on anything for me. They couldn't care less what happens to me. I think you guys would get along quite well actually. You can probably share stories on best ways to torture me. I think I'll pass... sir. _"_

Standing up, Harry held onto the edge of the table when he suddenly became dizzy, but refused to back down. "I think I'll just head back upstairs to my room. If you're still here when my Uncle gets home, good luck with that."

Right before Harry left the kitchen, Snape called out, "I'll be back for you in the morning. Be ready."

"Sure thing _professor_ " he mumbled over his shoulder wondering briefly if the man was actually serious. Surely he'd send someone else to come and get him if he actually needed to go anywhere.

After hearing the front door slam closed, the tired teen shut his bedroom door and sank into his bed not caring that it was still early in the evening to go to sleep.

* * *

"Sirius... No, Sirius"

"Crucio..."

"NOOOOO!"

Harry jumped up suddenly from his sleep. _It was only a nightmare,_ he told himself, but then a second later realized the nightmare had actually already happened to him. No matter how many times he dreamed about it, he could never stop Sirius from falling through the veil. He could never bring his Godfather back.

Grabbing his glasses from his desk next to his bed, he put them on and looked at the clock. It was 5:30 in the morning. Deciding he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, he swung his feet off the side of the bed. Reaching around to rub the back of his neck, he felt the sticky feel of sweat covering his back. Looking down, he was suddenly aware of the cold sweat covering his body causing his oversized t-shirt to cling suffocatingly to his skin.

_What the hell is going on?_

Harry was finally starting to think that something might not be right. Getting up, he quickly changed into a plain grey shirt that had the least amount of holes he could find and a worn out pair of jeans which were hand-me-downs from Ron last summer. He was grateful these fit so much better than Dudley's cast-offs.

Once he was ready for the day, which included trying unsuccessfully to brush down his ever-wild hair, he made his way downstairs to start the Dursley's breakfast. Thinking of his long day of chores ahead, he secretly hoped they'd be inside today since the hot weather outside took more out of him than usual.

Getting lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear Aunt Petunia come into the kitchen, "Don't go burning the bacon today, got it," she said with her shrill voice. "Vernon has a very important business meeting this morning and he deserves to start the day with a good breakfast." She smiled as if she just thought of the world's best idea.

_Like that will make any difference._

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry obediently said, flipping the bacon in the pan.

Cooking was one of his favorite chores. Not only did focusing solely on the task keep his intrusive thoughts away, but he was also allowed to get creative with it. Chicken could be dressed up so many different ways and he enjoyed getting to experiment with the different recipes or finding new, creative ways to change an old one. It was the reason why he thought he would do well in potions when he first started at Hogwarts -

_No, I refuse to think of Snape right now._

Of course, by saying he wouldn't think of Snape, meant that it was the only thing he could think about. Why was the man acting so strange? Maybe he was reading too much into how the dungeon bat was acting? It wouldn't be the first time he's misread a situation.

_And look where that got me._

He was brought back to the present by the smell of burning bacon. Cursing to himself, he flipped it quickly noticing the top of 3 pieces had started to burn. He carefully cut the burnt tops off and snuck them under a napkin to eat later.

Once the eggs were scrambled, toast was buttered, and tomatoes sliced on a plate, he was setting the table as Vernon stomped into the room and sat down with the paper. Ignoring Harry, he started to read.

"Here you are Uncle Vernon," Harry quietly announced placing a pitcher of orange juice in the center of the table. Vernon started filling his plate with a heaping serving of all the food on the table. Harry grabbed a piece of toast before heading back to the stove for the burnt bacon pieces, then left out the garden door to get some air.

Sitting right outside the door, he was able to stay out of Vernon's way until he heard the car leaving the driveway. Walking back in, he picked up his chore list - mostly indoors! - from the spot on the table where Aunt Petunia normally sat. Peering around the kitchen, there was no sight of her.

"Hey Potter!" Dudley yelled as he seemingly attempted to swat towards the back of Harry's head. Harry ducked just in time to cause the larger boy to lose his balance and fall over. Harry couldn't hold in his laugh.

"Have a nice fall Big D?" Harry asked, running from the kitchen towards the stairs. Unfortunately, Aunt Petunia chose that moment to walk down the stairs blocking his exit up. Dudley managed to catch up as someone knocked on the front door.

Petunia gave her son a warning with her eyes causing him to walk back into the sitting room. Harry continued up the stairs and sat at the top so he could eavesdrop before starting his chores.

"Can I help... What are _you_ doing here?!" he heard Petunia screech.

He couldn't contain his curiosity since he's only heard his aunt use that kind of voice when talking to him, and slowly crept down to a lower stair. Petunia tried to close the door in the face of whoever was outside but the visitor was faster and a hand with long, slim fingers held the door open before she could get it closed.

"That's no way to greet someone now is it Tuney?" Harry froze, he would know that baritone voice anywhere. "Where are your manners?"

_Woah does Snape know Aunt Petunia?!_

"Who are you to talk about manners _Snape_?" Petunia spat back at him.

Completely ignoring her and pushing his way into the entrance way, Snape continued "Why yes, I would love to be invited into your home so the neighbors don't overhear us."

Petunia huffed and looked up at her nephew who clearly was in shock at seeing his professor heckling his aunt.

"Get started on your chores, now!" She bellowed to Harry snapping his attention away from the strange sight in front of him.

"Actually," he heard Snape say as he turned around to go clean the loo and he could have sworn there was a hint of amusement in the man's voice. "This conversation is pertaining to Mr. Potter, so he should stay."

"Uh oh," Dudley called walking back towards the stairs, "Getting expelled for real this time?"

"Shove it _Dudders_ ," Harry replied. Dudley pushed the young wizard out of the way so he could go upstairs.

"Boys!" Petunia lectured trying her hardest to make it appear as if she had full control over the situation.

"Don't stop them on my account Tuney," Petunia gave the professor a death glare whenever he used that name. "All I need is to take your nephew on a short field trip today."

Harry was curious about what Snape was implying. Last night he made it sound like his aunt or uncle would be needed at St. Mungo's and now he sounded all secretive. Thoughts of Voldemort passed through his head and he almost said something to his aunt. At the last minute, he caught Snape's eye and decided to let it play out.

"Fine, whatever, take him," she rolled her hand in the air like he was nothing more than an afterthought to her. Turning to Harry she wagged her finger at him and said "Just make sure you have your chores done when you get home!"

"Ok, Aunt Petunia," he mumbled unsure which was better, doing chores here or going somewhere with the dungeon bat. Although, now that he had some time to look at Snape, he didn't look so intimidating.

In the process of contemplating Snape's less than intimidating look for the day, he missed the question the professor had asked. "Potter! Did you hear a word I said?!"

"Erm... No" the Boy-Who-Lived said embarrassed.

"Go and get ready, we're expected in about an hour," Snape replied impatiently.

Harry turned around and walked upstairs to his room. Putting on his worn out trainers, he looked around the room wondering if there was anything else he needed. This was bound to be a trying day.

Heading back downstairs, he jumped as he saw a man that looked nothing like his hated professor standing by the front door. Instead of a curtain of dark greasy hair lining his pale face, the man in front of him had shorter cut blonde hair, a less pale face, and soft blue eyes.

"It's a glamour, Potter," he still sounded exactly like Snape. "We can't exactly be seen together. In fact, I'll be casting one on you too."

He pulled out his ebony wand and Harry immediately went to grab his, forgetting again that he didn't have it. Snape's eyebrows shot up, "Think I'm going to hex you? Where is your wand?"

Snape was clearly angry, but Harry wasn't sure if it was because he almost pulled his wand on the professor or because he didn't have it to start with.

"It's locked up," Harry said almost inaudibly, pointing to the cupboard under the stairs.

"And do you think it's a smart idea to leave without it?" Harry felt like a 5-year old getting lectured.

"Nope, but my uncle -" he was interrupted by the lock being opened magically and Snape walking in. He pulled out Harry's trunk, opened it, took out the holly wand, and handed it to Harry.

Harry took it from his professor, not taking notice of Snape examining the inside of the cupboard. He already knew about Harry having lived in the cupboard for 10 years, but it had been 6 years since he'd seen the evidence of it. On the wall above the small cot, was a kid's hand-drawn picture that said "Harry's room". Snape closed the door a little too forcefully, pointed his wand at the trunk and shrunk it.

"I'll enlarge it when we get back, so you can keep it in your room," Snape told him in a voice that almost sounded sympathetic. "How else do you expect to do your summer assignments?"

_Ah, there's the snarky comment!_

"Thank you sir," Harry was very confused, but extremely grateful.

Snape just raised his wand again at Harry, this time Harry only flinched a little, and placed a glamour so he had blonde hair that fell to his shoulders, bright blue eyes, and squared glasses. "That should be enough to get us into the exam room. Let's go."

Walking down the drive, Harry slowed knowing he shouldn't ask the burning questions in his mind but figured he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing, "Sir? I thought you needed my aunt and uncle's permission or something? Last night you said you were going to talk with them about this."

Snape turned so he faced the boy. "We made alternate arrangements," he answered cryptically.

"You mean Madam Pomfrey did," Harry had to know if Snape had anything to do with this or not.

"Yes, something like that," the man was distracted and clearly wanted this line of questioning to end. "Let's get moving."

"Sir? One more question," _in for a penny, in for a pound_ Harry though. "How do you know Aunt Petunia?"

Snape glared at Harry but with his eyes blue instead of their normal black, the desired impact was gone. "That's none of your business." Harry disagreed with that, but didn't expect anything more to be said.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, and once reaching an alleyway, Snape turned to Harry and asked "Have you apparated before?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Testing Day


	6. Testing Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the real medical details start to come in. I did a lot of research for this fic, but I'm sure there's some things missing plus trying to mixing in the touches of magic and where I see the story going makes it not all correct. That's ok, it's fiction, so please just try to enjoy the story for what it is

Harry landed hard and instantly felt like he was about to lose his small breakfast. Snape held him by the shoulders with a concerned glare waiting for the disorientation of the first time apparating to pass.

Satisfied that he wasn't going to sick up all over his professor's shoes, Harry stood up with confused eyes. He wasn't standing in front of the hidden entrance to St. Mungo's, but instead was standing at a very muggle-looking private hospital.

"Erm... Why are we here?" Harry asked, trying not to sound nervous.

"I told you alternate plans were made, " the professor explained. "Occasionally, magical healers do work in muggle facilities, especially if that healer currently lives in the muggle world. The healer we're seeing is such a person."

Muggle or magic, Harry didn't want to be there. While he was intimately familiar with exams from his time at Hogwarts, he had never really voluntarily gone for a check-up. The Dursley's wouldn't dare take him unless it was absolutely necessary.

Walking into the brick building, Harry's heart rate immediately increased when the sterile smell hit his nose. The reception area was bright and inviting, but that didn't stop the small trembling in his hands. As Harry was walking up to the reception desk, Snape walked beyond it quickly towards the lifts tucked behind the desk. He ran to catch up to Snape, who was holding the lift open for him. Standing next to the man, Harry watched him wave his hand over the lift buttons and a small black circle appeared at the bottom of the list of floors. He pressed the black button followed by the #4 (pediatrics).

Opening his eyes in surprise, he asked Snape, "Is there one of those in every hospital?"

"Only if there's a magical healer present," he explained. "Which I made sure there would be today. The hidden button is activated by a magical signature and it alerts the floor that the witch or wizard is arriving."

Harry appreciated the extra explanation, knowing Snape didn't have to go into the details. He wondered how Snape was so familiar with the muggle world when the elevator lurched to a stop. The door opened to show a room with bright yellow walls lined with butterflies and flowers across them. A variety of rainbow colored chairs, both large for parents and small for young children, sat in a horseshoe pattern around the reception window. Sitting in a set of chairs along the left wall was a mother with her daughter who looked about five. Harry felt extremely out of place.

Snape walked up to the reception desk and said to the middle aged lady, "Alton Smithe is expecting us for Harry Evans."

Harry peered sideways at Snape when he heard his alias, but the man was staring forward so he decided not to say anything.

"Come this way," the receptionist told them, opening the door leading them back to a set of rooms. They were led through a hallway, all the way to the last room on the left where a small black circle could be seen on the outside of the door. Snape lifted his hand and waved it in front of the black circle and the door immediately opened.

Walking into the room, the receptionist told them Healer Smithe would be with them momentarily. Harry sat in one of the plastic chairs nervously tapping his foot waiting. Once the door closed, Snape waved his wand removing both their glamours.

"So... Is there just like a whole underground magical healthcare world hidden away here," Harry awkwardly asked.

"Very eloquent Mr. Potter," Snape replied. "Sometimes it's not conducive for a magical parent to bring a child to St. Mungo's or when muggle parents have a magical child, like Miss. Granger, it's an easier transition to go to the local hospital if there are dual healers available there."

"Ah, guess I've never thought about that much," Harry looked around the room just for something to do while waiting.

Snape lowered his eyebrows, "Why do I feel you haven't put much thought into most aspects of your medical needs?"

Harry decided to ignore that remark, as the door opened and a man, who Harry guessed was in his mid-40's, entered the room. He had sandy blonde hair, hazel kind eyes behind a set of modest glasses, and a small goatee growing. He reminded Harry of a more clean-cut version of Remus, and he immediately felt comfortable around this man.

"Severus," Healer Smithe called out as he closed the door. The friendly tone showing he obviously knew Snape from somewhere. "It's been too long. How have you been?"

"Quite the same, Alton, as always. How's Mary these days?" Snape actually sounded concerned which caught Harry's interest.

"She's doing well," he had a sad look in his eyes as he said that, "all thanks to you. Which brings us to this young man."

He turned to Harry. "Hello Mr. Potter, my name is Healer Smithe," he held out his hand to Harry.

"Hi sir... And please just call me Harry." He shook Healer Smithe's hand, his arm still trembling from nerves.

Looking through the file he had in his hands, which Harry assumed was from the Hogwarts infirmary, he said, "Harry it is. It looks like your professor and the medi-witch from your school sent over an extensive list of things to check for, most of which are muggle tests."

His eyebrows shot up as he read over the sheet of parchment in his left hand. Harry watched as he looked skeptically at Snape who gave a nod so small Harry thought he might have imagined it. This was not a good sign at all.

"Ok," Healer Smithe finally said, "let's get some basics out of the way. I'm going to run a diagnostic spell which will record things like your height, weight, temperature, and if you currently have any illnesses or injuries." Harry felt the tickle of the diagnostic scan start.

"It says here, you visited the school infirmary due to a bloody nose. How else you've been feeling overall, have you had any other nose bleeds? Or any unexplained bruising?"

Healer Smithe took a seat on a small, yellow stool at the desk on the other end of the wall. Harry looked up at Snape, not sure he wanted to discuss things this personal with his hated potions professor standing there.

"Severus," Healer Smithe said quietly, picking up on Harry's hesitations. "Can you wait in my office? I'll be right there to clarify a couple things before we get started."

Harry was surprised by the understanding that crossed Snape's eyes. "Of course," he replied slowly walking out of the exam room.

"So tell me what's been going on," Healer Smithe questioned, turning back towards Harry.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus sat in the comfortable office of the only other person besides Lily he would call a friend. He had met Alton while he was working on the healing portion of his Potions Mastery. Having just completed his own Healer Mastery, Alton was nervous to have a junior apprentice, but enjoyed Severus's level of knowledge and the theoretical discussions they so often had.

Alton had married Sarah, a muggle he'd met while Severus was studying under him. Severus had been invited to the wedding and still regretted not attending; it had been a dark time in his life and he didn't want to dampen their day. From then on, Alton enjoyed living in the muggle world even after their daughter, Mary, was born 5 years ago and would most likely be a witch.

Severus had heard from Alton over two years ago when Mary was diagnosed with a heart murmur due to a small hole and they wanted to do open heart surgery. Severus created a series of potions to help close the hole without any surgical intervention over several weeks. Thinking about it now, Severus was surprised that both realities were the same in regards to Alton Smithe.

He'd been waiting about 20 minutes when Alton walked back into his office. His friend leaned against the edge of the desk with his arm folded across his chest.

"Want to fill me in on anything Severus? It's not like you to get so involved to the point of sending the tests you want to run."

"Let's just say I have a feeling and leave it at that," the Potions Master said. "I take it there won't be any issues running them today? I imagine you agree this needs to get started as quickly as possible."

"I mean, I have everything here per your request, but what do you expect to do about the guardian permission? I can do the blood tests, no problem but, assuming it's necessary, I can't do the bone marrow biopsy without guardian consent," Alton had a sad look on his face as he explained that fact.

"Albus Dumbledore is working on a medical proxy," Severus said matter-of-factly. "I'll send everything necessary when I receive it and it will be valid for today. Given the symptoms, it's very likely Leukemia, and let's just say his guardians don't have his best interest in mind. "

"I think that these types of symptoms can be any number of ailments or even nothing at all. Cancer is extremely rare in the wizarding population as a whole and even when we do see it, it's generally in either weak wizards and specifically muggleborns, neither of which describes Mr. Potter," Alton paused taking a cleansing breath. "Let's just say you're lucky I owe you. All of this is coming very close to lines that can't be crossed in both the muggle and magical worlds."

"That's why we're here," Severus said standing up to exit the office. "Let's get this started."

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry was waiting for Healer Smithe to return and had no idea what to expect. He wasn't exactly sure what he needed to consult Snape about seeing as the man should have nothing to do with his medical files. Maybe it was because Snape originally ran the diagnostic spell back at Hogwarts? _I should have gone for a nap instead_.

"Ok, Harry I think we're ready this morning," Healer Smithe cheerfully called as he entered the room again. "Is it ok if Professor Snape joins us? I may need his assistance on a couple things. I promise we won't discuss anything you're uncomfortable with him hearing." Healer Smithe knew that keeping Harry's trust was about the only way they would get through this easily.

"Yes sir, that's fine," Harry eyed Snape as he was let back into the room. While he felt very comfortable with Healer Smithe, he still was wary of Snape and why he had to be so involved.

Putting on a pair of gloves and grabbing the phlebotomy supplies he sat down in front of Harry to walk him through the process, "The tests we're going to run today are all going to be muggle tests. Occasionally, there are times where a magical scan just can't show us the whole picture of what's going on and muggle tests can make up that difference. We're still able to use magical methods to read the tests however, so as long as everything cooperates you should leave here today with some answers.

"This part is pretty straightforward. I'll just draw some blood and look to see if anything is out of place," he paused looking at Harry. "Are you afraid of needles?"

Having not had any experience with needles before, Harry shook his head "no" figuring it can't be any worse than what he's gone through with Voldemort. Even so, he decided at the last second to look away and he met Snape's eyes just as he felt the cold, wet touch of the alcohol pad followed by a sharp pinch. He couldn't hold in the grimace that formed on his face, and he scolded himself because the last thing he wanted was to appear weak in front of Snape.

After what felt like at least a minute, he felt another dull pinch as the needle was removed from the inside of his elbow. A small piece of cotton was taped over where the blood was taken.

"That's it," Healer Smithe exclaimed, disposing of the blood collection kit and gloves in the red rubbish bin next to the desk. "I'll go run these now. Do you want to go get a snack or wait here?"

"I think I'd rather wait here... if that's ok," Harry asked. "I'm not so hungry anyways."

"Sure thing," he replied standing up with the vials of blood. Harry thought it was strange to see his blood captured outside his body in that way. "It shouldn't be more than 10 minutes then."

"Thank you Alton," Snape spoke, for the first time since coming back into the room, as the Healer was leaving.

Harry was suddenly very interested in his worn out trainers for the simple reason that he didn't know what else to do. He was amazed at how easily he'd adjusted to walking in shoes too big for him and where they were worn through. Making a mental note of needing to find a way to get new ones, he felt Snape's eyes on him. Lifting his head up, his bright emerald eyes met Snape's dark onyx ones.

"It's bad isn't it," Harry finally admitted worrying his lower lip. He really didn't want to have this conversation with Snape but he felt utterly alone not for the first time in his life, but very strongly at that moment. He was reaching out to the only person present and just hoping Snape wouldn't throw it back in his face.

Snape's face showed something close to concern. "Of the possibilities... most are not good," he said honestly. "But whatever it is, we'll figure it out," that was the best Snape could say without flat out lying.

"I thought you said last night I'd be seeing someone Madam Pomfrey knew," Harry challenged, catching Snape in the lie he had told.

"I may have misspoken last night," that was as close to 'I was wrong' as Harry was going to get. He smirked at the thought and felt comforted that Snape would call in a... _No, Snape doesn't have friends._

"You won't tell anyone what goes on here right?" Harry asked the question weighing heavily on his mind. The last thing he needed was all of Slytherin knowing his business.

"I have more decorum than you think," Snape felt insulted, but looking at the past 5 years, he couldn't blame the boy. "Anything said or done here is protected from everyone except, unfortunately, your relatives and then of course anyone you choose to disclose the information to."

"Oh... good. So my aunt and uncle still need to know?" Harry figured if he could, he really wanted to leave them out. "The stuff I said last night wasn't just talk, you know, I doubt they'd sign off on anything having to do with me. Unless of course it meant they could get rid of me." Harry felt his face flush. Why was he telling the person he hated almost more than Voldemort about stuff like this? He was prepared to blame the clinical setting for throwing him off.

"The Headmaster is working on alternative arrangements for that as well," was all Snape said. They were getting really close to the topic he wanted to avoid, Sirius. That's who should have been here with Harry and he knew Harry blamed Snape as much as he blamed himself for his godfather's death.

Almost as if sensing what Snape was thinking about, a wave of anger spread through Harry and just as he was about to yell at Snape to leave, the door opened and Healer Smithe walked in. His apprehensive face did nothing to calm the storm in Harry. He sat on the same yellow stool in front of Harry.

"The test showed some abnormalities," the healer tried to explain in a nice way to say something was definitely wrong, but without putting a name to it before the other tests could be run. "It's not a very conclusive result, meaning I'd like to do another test which should give us a better idea what we're dealing with."

To Harry, that sounded like he already knew, but just didn't want to tell him. He was sick of adults making decisions for him, "Just tell me what's going on." Harry needed to know.

"It could be a wide range of things at this point, which is why I don't want to speculate on anything yet," his kind eyes told Harry to just go with it; that if this turned out to be nothing he didn't want to cause Harry to worry over nothing.

"Ok," Harry thought about his Gryffindor bravery. "So what now?"

"The procedure is called a bone marrow aspiration and biopsy. Both are done at the same time and we can do it in the procedure room here," Healer Smithe paused for Harry to nod that he understood so far. "The basic idea is that we'll use a needle to pull out some marrow directly from your hip bone. That will give us a definitive answer to what's going on with you."

Harry didn't want to say anything about how awful that process sounded, or how scared he actually was about it. It's not like he's ever had anyone to lean on in the past, why should he expect any different now.

Lifting his chin a little higher to give himself confidence he said, "Ok."

Walking out of the exam room and towards the procedure room, Harry could barely feel his legs carrying him. Surely whatever was going on, could be fixed pretty easily. He lived in a world with magic and potions, something like that has to be able fix this.

Healer Smithe walked in right behind Harry, but Snape stayed in the hallway. Handing Harry a gown, he said, "I need you to change into this with it open in the back. The procedure will take place here," he pressed on a spot on Harry's back just above his right hip bone. "I'll be back in a couple minutes to get you ready and the whole procedure should take about 30 minutes."

As he left, Harry looked around the room. In the center was a table, softer than the exam table in the previous room but definitely not comfortable looking, and next to that was a tall covered tray which he assumed housed the instruments used for this procedure. Taking off his clothes and folding them neatly on the chair against the wall, he sat on the procedure table and waited.

There was a knock on the door and Healer Smithe ducked his head around the door. "All set?" He asked.

"As much as I'll ever be," Harry mumbled; the feeling of loneliness settling into his chest.

"Is it alright if Professor Snape joins us again? Honestly, this is a hard procedure to do alone," the healer looked sympathetically at Harry.

"Yeah, sure," Harry barely heard what he said as the door opened and his professor walked in. "Hi sir," Harry almost hit himself in the forehead for how stupid he sounded to Snape.

"This will be over before you know it Harry," Snape let the use of the young wizard's given name settle as a truce for what was about to happen.

"I'd like you to lay down on your left side please," Healer Smithe explained patting the other side of the table. "I'll cover up your bottom half with this blanket, since we need to have access to your hip area. Severus, please sit in that chair and try to help keep him calm."

_Totally the wrong person for that._

He pointed to a chair that was next to Harry's head when he was laying down. Snape took a seat and they were now face-to-face. "The first thing they'll do is numb the area which should help significantly with the pain," Snape told him, trying to calm the visible nerves of the Boy-Who-Lived. "Just breathe."

Harry felt something cold on his back, right in the area Healer Smithe pointed to earlier. He then felt a quick pinch, like when the blood sample was taken. Remembering to breathe, Harry closed his eyes trying to think about being anywhere but there. He settled on the image and feeling of flying. He didn't know how long he laid there on his side, almost feeling the wind blowing on his face, when he heard someone say, "Here we go."

At first he thought it wasn't so bad. He felt some pressure in the area that he knew they were working in, but with everything he'd faced before it was nothing. Unfortunately, that lasted less than a minute before he felt an intense, sharp pain radiating from his hip bone.

Opening his eyes wide, he immediately grimaced trying not to yell out in pain. Instead, he felt tears coming to eyes and he couldn't stop them from falling. He didn't think about his most hated professor seeing him cry, and he didn't notice when the man took Harry's hands in his own and started saying to him "You're almost there," or "Only a couple more minutes". All he could try to do was focus on the feeling of the hands holding his own, rough from years of grinding and chopping potions ingredients

Later, Harry couldn't have said if it was 5 minutes or 5 hours, but once it finally ended he felt exhausted and sore. He looked up and saw Snape talking to the healer over his head, hands still clamped around his own, now shaking. He carefully removed his hands from Snape's and tried to sit up.

"Hold it there," Snape said gently pushing Harry down. "You need to rest for about 15 minutes to make sure the aspiration site isn't bleeding." He felt something soft push against the sore area of his back.

"Gotcha," he managed to say not looking anyone in the eyes. "That sounds like a perfect idea."

"You did great Harry, like Severus said, just try to relax and we'll be right back in to check the area before you can get up," the healer explained before leaving the room with Snape.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus walked with Alton towards the processing area, "How long until you know for sure?" He asked even though he knew what the results would be.

"I can know in about 40 minutes, but I want to get an extra set of eyes on the sample before giving the final report," his friend explained. "Given that we're dealing with a very rare occurrence in a very well known young wizard, I want to be sure before finalizing the results."

"That's fair," Severus conceded. "I'll see if he can try to eat some lunch while we wait." Alton nodded and walked into the other room to work on the sample.

For the first time since waking up in this reality, he felt like he had some control over the situation. Thinking back to what Harry had just gone through, he couldn't help but feel sad and disappointed by not only how much Harry thought he had to do this alone but also how he just accepts it. He'd have to discuss how they would handle treatments because Harry couldn't stay at his relatives' house with no one as his advocate.

Walking back inside the procedure room, Harry was staring off at the wall.

"Something interesting Mr. Potter?" He said sitting back down in the chair facing Harry.

"Nothing sir, just thinking... Or trying not to think, I guess is more accurate," Harry said monotone.

"Once you're able to get up, let's go grab some lunch in the cafeteria. Healer Smithe wants to consult with another doctor. That will give him time to process the results," Severus could see the young man mulling over what he just said.

A strange, comfortable silence fell between them. Thinking about his next obstacle, convincing Harry to do the muggle treatment, was coming upon him and he had no idea how to handle it.

There was a knock on the door interrupting both wizards' internal thoughts.

"Let's have a look," Alton said, putting on a pair of gloves. "No bleeding, and the site appears ready to go. You'll be sore for the next day or so and you should keep the area dry for 24 hours. Any questions so far?"

"No sir," Harry replied, sitting up very slowly. Severus held out his hand to help support Harry and was surprised when the raven-haired boy took it.

"Go ahead, get dressed, and then we'll grab some lunch downstairs," Severus said handing the pile of clothes to Harry. "I'll be right outside the door if you need any help." Before exiting the room, Severus reapplied the glamours to both of them.

Leaving the room, Severus felt his heart clenched. He wanted nothing more than to help Harry, but instead he was stuck in this impossible situation of being the angry, hated professor. He couldn't even start to think about how all of this would work with his spying duties. It's not like someone just walks away from a dark megalomaniac wizard like Voldemort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Diagnosis


	7. The Diagnosis

Harry sat down at an empty table while Snape went to grab himself lunch. Harry had declined anything to eat knowing his stomach was too jumbled with nerves to eat. To his surprise, a bowl of chicken soup was placed down in front of him as Snape sat in the seat to his right.

"I said I wasn't hungry," Harry told his professor, not caring that he sounded like a child.

"You need to eat," was all Snape replied, picking up his own sandwich to take a bite.

_Easy for you to say, this is probably poisoned..._

Against his better judgement, he picked up the spoon and took a sip. The hot soup felt good in his overly empty stomach. Not realizing how hungry he actually was, he started to eat the bowl of soup quickly. The professor and student fell into an uncomfortable silence, neither knowing what to say.

Harry was surprised for the second time in the half-hour by Snape quietly speaking, "I knew your Aunt Petunia from when we were children. We grew up near each other."

It took Harry some time to process what that meant. When he finally did, his eye lit up as he replied, "Then, you had to know my mum." It was not a question.

"Yes," Snape had a blanket of regret over that single word. That single word shattered everything that Harry thought he knew about the professor sitting next to him.

Suddenly, everything that had gone on that day wasn't important; Harry had a million questions he wanted to ask. He'd heard and discovered so much about his dad, but no one really mentioned his mum.

"How well did you know my mum?" instinctively that was the question he started with as he saw the pain in Snape's eyes. Clearly this topic wasn't one he was comfortable talking about which must mean he knew her pretty well.

Snape sighed and looked up at the clock on the far wall of the cafeteria. Harry could tell this was something Snape did not want to discuss, but since he brought it up, he figured it was fair game.

"We used to be very good friends," Snape finally admitted. "We need to get back upstairs, but we can discuss this later."

Harry thought that was completely unfair, "You can't just tell me you were friends with my mum and leave it at that!"

Snape thought about this outburst, secretly happy this was the first time today Harry had had shown some kind of normal emotion. "Fine, you get one question before we go upstairs. Make it a good one."

Harry thought hard about this. If he only got to know one thing about his mother right now, what would it be? He didn't want to pick something trivial, he could find that out later.

"What was she like?" He asked hoping it wasn't too open ended.

Snape sighed. "Let's walk while we talk," he stood as he spoke picking up their lunch dishes and taking them to the drop off window.

"If you ask anyone, they will all tell you Lily was the most kind hearted person you'd ever meet. She genuinely cared about other people. She could see the good in anyone and tried her best to show that person the best in himself.

"She had a temper on her though... Like a firecracker. One minute she's fine and the next she would be up fighting against whatever wrong she thought needed correcting.

"And her capacity for forgiveness was astonishing. Take a look at your aunt for example. No matter how many times Petunia managed to hurt Lily with her cruel words, your mother would always give her another chance. She had her limits though... and once you crossed that line, she wouldn't look back." Snape paused as they waited for the lift to take them back to Healer Smithe's office. "She was intelligent, especially in charms and potions. She had a great laugh; it was infectious... Everyone around her couldn't help but join in when they heard her laughing."

Harry was deep in thought about his mum and what she would have been like if she were still with him. Would she be trying to make him laugh with everything going on today? Or would she be a quiet observer letting him lead the day but ready to jump in if things got bad?

"I thought my mum grew up in the muggle world?" Somehow that was the first question to come to his mind after everything he'd heard. How would Snape have known his mum if she grew up with muggles?

"That's two questions and I said you could ask one," Snape lectured. He already expected this to come up, "Yes, she did grow up in the muggle world, as did I."

Harry stopped walking for a second, trying to process what he'd just heard Snape admit. Somehow it was hard to imagine Snape in a house with electricity and a telly. Actually, if he was honest about what he expected from Snape's house, it would have coffins and potion ingredients everywhere.

"Wait a minute..." Harry called out running to catch up to stop Snape before they entered the office in front of them. "Aren't you a pureblood?"

Turning around, Snape looked Harry in the eyes narrowing them as if he was contemplating if Harry would indeed survive this line of questioning. "That's false," he admitted, "I'm actually a half-blood. Now if you're through we're needed back inside."

He opened the door and half guided, half pushed Harry through the doorway. The young wizard had no way of knowing that he'd reacted exactly as his professor had hoped and had been completely distracted from where they were headed.

Harry was definitely distracted with the large amount of information he had found out about his mum and Snape in such a small amount of time. The more he thought about it, he was growing angry with Snape. How could he have been friends with his mum and not say a single word about it? What kind of person does that to someone orphaned before he was two? Not that he should have expected any different from the man, but this was kind of a big deal.

Not paying attention to where he was going, he ran right into Snape's back. They were outside of Healer Smithe's office.

_When did we get back here?_

"Sorry sir," he said when Snape whipped around and glared at him. Or at least he assumed it was a glare, on second thought, he didn't seem nearly as annoyed as Harry would have expected.

"Have a good lunch?" Healer Smithe asked, walking up behind Harry and Snape.

"Yeah," Harry mumbled looking down at his trainers.

"Come on in," the healer said, "take a seat and I'll be right there."

Harry walked in as Snape held the door open, removing their glamours in the process, and took a seat in the comfortable red chair on the right side of the desk. Bookshelves covered the walls to his left and right with all sorts of books Harry recognized as both magical and muggle, and certificates were displayed on the wall in front of Harry, behind the healers desk.

His legs were nervously bouncing as the healer walked in and took a seat behind the desk. This was it, there was no going back to ignorant bliss after this.

"First, I want to make sure you're ok with Professor Snape sitting in. It's completely up to what you're comfortable with seeing as I don't know, officially, who your medical proxy will be," his gentle eyes looked into Harry's emerald ones and Harry knew this was going to be bad news.

"Erm... Yeah. That's fine," he wasn't 100% sure of that himself, but he also assumed that Snape would be brewing whatever potions were needed to fix this problem anyway, so it wouldn't really matter in the end.

"Ok, good. Severus, could you close the door? And please sit if you'd be more comfortable," he gestured to the chair on Harry's left. This definitely wasn't going to be good news.

Once the door was closed and Snape sitting he continued, "The blood sample we took this morning showed a high number of lymphoblasts; those are young white blood cells. This can be indicative of a type of cancer called Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia. It's a cancer, or more simply put, a set of cells growing at an abnormally high rate, found in the blood. We confirmed this with the bone marrow aspiration and biopsy." He spoke slowly and then waited to make sure the information was processed. He was trying to keep it at the level a 15 year old wizard could understand.

Harry had kept a stoic face, but nodded that he had understood. There was a girl in his 3rd year primary school with cancer, something that was in her brain. While Harry didn't know her well, he did know she didn't come back in their 4th year. He shivered thinking about it. "So, what does this mean for me?"

"It's complicated," Healer Smithe honestly replied, "cancer is very rarely seen in witches and wizards. That's not to say we don't see any cases, it's just most of the time we see them in muggleborns, wizards with weaker magical signatures, or squibs. None of which describe you.

"Either way, we shouldn't necessarily be focusing on the why, but instead on what we're going to do about it. While this type of cancer is aggressive," that definitely didn't sound good to Harry, "it's the most common childhood cancer, and generally responds well to treatment." Finally, some good news... relatively speaking.

When the healer paused, Harry looked up and both men we're looking at him, "Oh, that's good... Right?" He felt the need to ask.

"Absolutely. And as a wizard, you have a couple extra options to choose from-"

"No," Snape interrupted. Harry's head swung around quickly. "Alton, be realistic, the wizarding potions aren't anywhere near where they need to be compared to the muggle treatments for this condition."

Harry looked confused. "Why would I choose one over the other?" He really thought this was a bad time to try to process everything. His head felt extremely fuzzy.

"Don't worry Harry, we'll give you all the information and recommendations to make the best decision going forward, and rest assured you don't need to make any decisions on your own," Healer Smithe's kind eyes relaxed Harry's pounding heart. "There are a couple things we need to schedule to do in the immediate, the first is another test to see if the cancer has spread anywhere like your spinal cord or brain. Like I said, this is an aggressive disease, so we need to cover everything we can. Do you have any questions?" There's that word again, aggressive.

"Um... Well..." Harry had many questions but his thoughts were so jumbled he couldn't put a sentence together. Cancer, seriously? And something so rare for a wizard like him. Why him? First Sirius, then the prophecy, and now this? What was he supposed to think?

"... Harry?"

He was brought back to the present by Snape calling him his given name again. He was suddenly aware that Healer Smithe had been talking to him. "Sorry sir," Harry quickly added. "What did you say?"

"We'll schedule the lumbar test for tomorrow morning, if that's ok," Harry nodded at this, what else was he supposed to do? Who was he to argue with the healer? "And I'd like you to consider the different treatment options available tonight. It's extremely important that we start treatment as soon as possible. It's the best way to beat this." He made eye contact with Harry again. "And you _will_ beat this, ok?"

"Yes sir," was all Harry could say. _Have I said anything of importance yet?_ "So, what are the options? If Professor Snape says potions won't work, then is there really any choice?"

Snape's eyebrows shot up at the acknowledgement of his proper title, probably for the first time ever without malice, followed by a compliment.

Healer Smithe took a long look at Snape and Harry saw a flash of concern pass by both their faces.

"Well, Harry it's not that simple," the healer started delicately. "Like I said, being a wizard makes this a bit more complicated than a muggle.

"The typical muggle treatment is called chemotherapy. It's a set of medications that will kill off the cancer cells, or the cells that are growing too quickly, which are invading your bloodstream. For this type of cancer, when caught early, it has a really good prognosis. About 9 out 10 cases will end up in remission after the first intensive round, which means the cancer cells are no longer present in your blood. You would still need to go through more chemotherapy after that first phase to make sure it stays gone, but like I said the prognosis is very good for full remission."

"But..." Harry prompted. If it was that successful and potions weren't then what was the issue?

"But, the chemotherapy can't target only the cancer cells. In the process of killing the bad ones, some of the good cells get killed too. It can cause some pretty bad side effects, which we can do our best to make as manageable as possible. In a wizard though, the magical core reacts to the killing of the good cells as an attack on the body and it will attempt to use your magic to counteract that process."

"So, my magic would make the chemotherapy less effective?" That seemed logical.

"Not quite," the healer said slowly, "instead the magic may get worn out from fighting against a process it can't stop."

Harry's face was blank for a split second until his brain caught on to what Healer Smithe was describing.

"I could lose my magic?" Harry confirmed.

"It is a possibility, but remember in the times we've seen wizards get any type of cancer, they've been considered to have a 'weak magical signature'. So it's also possible that because their magical core started out on the lower end, it couldn't survive." The healer exhaled hard now that all the information was out in the open.

"I can't risk that!" Harry called out, getting frantic, "I _need_ my magic. You have no idea how much I need it." How was he supposed to fight the darkest wizard of all time without any magic?

"I just want you to consider all pros and cons of both," the healer said. "We can discuss it more tomorrow when you're back for the other test. Then we can figure out the logistics of treatment." Turning to Snape he asked, "Will either his guardians or medical proxy be here tomorrow? I absolutely need one of them to sign off on the treatment plan and schedule."

"I'll message Albus as soon as we're done here to get that completed," Snape said. Harry thought the man was taking all this rather well for basically babysitting someone whom he's hated for the last almost 6 years.

"Ok then," Healer Smithe stood up, "Harry you should rest today, keep off your hip, and I'll see you in the morning."

Harry stood up, his hip protesting from sitting in the chair so long - _how long have I been here_ \- and shook Healer Smithe's hand. "Thank you sir, I'll see you tomorrow." Not quite sure this was a thank you moment, but it was polite.

He felt the glamour being placed back on as he was walking out the door with Snape. Harry had nothing to say, but a million thoughts went through his mind. _One step at a time... first decision, picking a treatment option_ of course, like anything else in his life, did he really have an option? He can't be The Chosen One without magic, so that was it.

"Mr. Potter?" Harry heard Snape say.

_So we're back to Potter_

"Sorry sir, I didn't hear you."

"Are you ready to disapparate?" his professor asked, causing Harry to look around. Not only were they out of the hospital, but they were already at the apparation point.

"Oh, yeah. Let's go." He noticed that Snape was holding a bunch of papers most likely about his condition and treatment.

* * *

This time when he landed, Harry couldn't keep his stomach calm and sicked up his lunch right in front of Snape. Doubled over, he expected to hear a snide remark from his professor, but instead Harry felt one strong hand on his shoulder and the other in his back.

Falling to the ground, Harry sat there with his knees drawn, arms resting on top of them, and his head resting on his arms. He felt completely defeated, tired, and sore; he couldn't imagine getting up and facing his relatives after everything that had happened.

He was surprised again when he felt Snape sit down next to him, in the grass of all places. He peered over his arms next to him as he felt Snape's eyes on him.

"Just give me a minute," Harry asked, tucking his head back down. He just really wanted to fall asleep right there on the grass.

"How about this," Snape sounded sympathetic which made Harry angry. "Let's get back to your relatives so we both can be safe, you rest a bit and I'll talk to your aunt. I also need to get in touch with Albus. Is your owl available?"

Harry lifted his head still feeling defeated, "No, I sent Hedwig to the Burrow." He stood up, wiped his jeans off and started walking toward Privet Drive.

"You could probably talk to Mrs. Figg, I'm sure she has a way to contact Dumbledore," Harry called over his shoulder, also checking to see if Snape was following him. Satisfied when he saw the man waking a pace behind he continued, "Seems like he'll talk to everyone but me. He has no problem talking _about me_ to them either. But if I need him, or anyone else, I'm left completely alone!"

By now Harry had made it to the front garden of #4 and had turned around to face his professor yelling. "You tell him that Snape! Just tell him about everything that happened today so he can try to 'manipulate' it all like he does best"

Harry pulled open the front door and stomped inside; Snape barely had the chance to get inside before he slammed the door closed. "Or better yet," Harry continued to yell, "tell him not to worry... Tell him I know exactly what I'm _supposed_ to do and he doesn't have to worry about me messing up his master plan!"

Feeling light headed, he grabbed the railing on the stairs to help hold him upright as he climbed to his bedroom. He didn't notice his aunt enter the room or how Snape was staring at him deeply confused by the teen's outburst.

~~~~SS~~~~

_That was expected_

Petunia walked into the entrance from the sitting room at the tail end of Harry's rant.

"What is all this-" she started before Severus grabbed her wrist preventing her from running up after her nephew.

"We need to talk," Severus told her in a tone she shouldn't think of disobeying.

Stupidly, Petunia sneered at him, "I don't _need_ to do anything _you_ say, Snape."

He maintained his grasp on her wrist as he dragged her into the kitchen and pushed her into the chair at the table. It was already late afternoon, but the sky had become overcast and threatened rain while he and Harry had been at the hospital, so it was now dark and dreary inside the house.

"I couldn't care less about what you think. Right now, you're going to listen to me or trust me it will be the absolute last thing you do on this Earth," Severus threatened. "We're in an impossible situation. The last place Harry needs to be is under your roof, but even I can admit he needs to stay here for his protection."

"As usual, you're making absolutely no sense," she spat back at him.

Severus glared evilly at her before explaining, "Your nephew just found he is very sick," Severus put the folder he was carrying onto the table and opened it. In the front was a pamphlet which he picked up and tossed to Petunia. He watched her eyes widen as she read the title, "Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia".

"I don't understand..." She started saying and then paused, "we can't..." She tried starting again.

"You don't have to pretend with me Tuney," Severus said with disgust, "we both know you have no intention of doing a single thing to help him, let alone actually take care of him through all this."

"Well, then what do you want," she asked insensitivity.

Severus glared at her, "I need you to give him space. Albus Dumbledore is working on getting him a medical proxy and will be in touch tonight to discuss long-term plans. You can expect me back tonight with him. I'll tell you what you're going to do then."

He stood up to leave as Dudley waddled into the kitchen. He met eyes with Severus, then turned around and left. _At least I've managed to scare one person today._

Checking up the stairs to make sure Harry had gone to his room, he walked out the front door prepared to apparate to Hogwarts when his left forearm started to burn.

~~~~HP~~~~

_Harry was excited, more excited then he'd felt in a long time. He was finally going to get exactly what he'd been waiting for. Walking around an extravagant room full of rich furniture, he felt drunk on power as he eyed his faithful servants before him._

_"Wormtail, approach," he called out._

_"Yes, my Lord," he bowed in front of Harry and kissed the hem of his dark robes._

_"Where are we with the summer plan?" He needed this finished once and for all. If only he could get past them._

_"It will work my Lord," Wormtail trembled. "I'm getting everything in order as we speak."_

_"Perfect! When will it be ready?" Things were looking positive for the first time since the Ministry of Magic disaster._

_"Within two weeks, my Lord. We'll be ready by then."_

_"Severus," Harry called out, now ignoring Wormtail. "Where is the boy this summer?"_

_"With his relatives as always." Severus explained. "I've heard of no plans to move him._

_" And he'll be there all summer?" Harry had to know._

_"Typically he's spent the last couple weeks before term elsewhere, but nothing has been set for that yet," Severus said bowing before him._

_He has been frustrated with Severus's lack of information lately, but as the only person on the inside of Hogwarts, he was a necessity._

_"Perfect, that's perfect to hear."_

_The last thing Harry saw was his reflection in the oriental mirror as he walked by and was surprised at the red eyes staring back at him_

Back in the smallest room at #4 Privet Drive, Harry jumped up out of bed. He was still in the same clothes from this morning, laying on top of the thin blanket. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep, but he still felt exhausted, his head was throbbing with the beat of his heart, and his scar was burning. Taking his hand, he pressed on his scar and felt the familiar trickle of blood coming out of it.

He grabbed the bottom of his shirt to wipe the blood from his forehead. Not the best option, but it was better than nothing. Seeing the bloodstains on the shirt reminded him of what he was told earlier, or was that yesterday? _There are cancer cells in that blood._ Peeking through the window, the sun was going down, so it was still the same horrible day.

He got up, not bothering to change his shirt, his hip was still very sore. Limping carefully to the door, he opened it surprised to find Dudley passing by him.

"I can't believe mum let you sleep the whole day," he said and Harry could have sworn he heard a hint of regret in his voice, "dad's not going to let you get away with it."

"Nothing he can do about it now," Harry mumbled, feeling still very tired. He walked down the stairs, ready to start on dinner and saw that dinner had been over based on the dishes in the sink. Had his aunt actually let him sleep instead waking him to help cook?

Thinking that over, he passed by the table and saw the folder Snape brought from the hospital scattered across the tabletop. Clearly someone had gone through all the information in it, something he should probably do as well. He continued walking to the sink and started washing the dishes. Maybe this would stop whatever punishment he would be getting for sleeping half the day.

He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't see his cousin walk into the kitchen. Dudley sat down at the table and was examining the papers that were scattered across it. Harry looked up after he finished drying the last dish and saw a small plate at the end of the counter with a ham sandwich on it. Taking the plate too tired to consider who left it, he went to sit down at the other end of the table away from Dudley. Both boys sat in silence until Harry had almost finished the sandwich, not realizing again how hungry he actually had been.

"Is this yours?" Dudley asked quietly, swishing his hand over the table.

"Yup," Harry said, standing up, bringing the plate to the sink and starting to wash it. He had a slight limp from his sore hip. "Where are your parents?"

"Oh, I dunno. Mom's here somewhere, but I don't think dad's home yet." Dudley shrugged. "Are you gonna be ok?"

Harry shook his head like he was trying to clear a bug out of his ear when heard a knock on the front door. "Does it really matter?" he said quietly as he passed his cousin heading towards the door to answer it.

His aunt made it to the door first and when Harry got there, Dumbledore was standing in the entrance way in bright yellow and silver robes. He couldn't look further from a muggle and Harry had to hold back his smirk at Aunt Petunia's horrified face.

"Hi sir," Harry called out from the kitchen door. "Erm, what are you doing here?"

"Ah, Harry, just the person I was looking for," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. Who else did he expect to find here?

"Excuse me," Petunia said, "what exactly is going on?"

Dumbledore turned towards his aunt, "Let's take a seat, shall we?" As the headmaster was about to move, the door was pushed open and Snape walked in the room. Harry suddenly remembered his vision and made eye contact with Snape. He didn't look like he had been at a death eater meeting, but how exactly is one supposed to look after spying?

"Oh, good Severus. I take it we have a lot to discuss tonight?" Dumbledore asked no-so-quietly.

"You could say that," Snape replied and walked into the sitting room completely ignoring Petunia.

Dumbledore took off into the sitting room and sat on the sofa waiting for them. Harry followed Petunia and sat across from Dumbledore with Petunia sitting in the chair to his left and Snape standing behind him making Harry very uncomfortable.

"It seems you've received some rather upsetting news today Harry. I'm so sorry you are having to go through this," Harry thought the headmaster sounded sincere, but he wasn't so sure he could trust the man. Not knowing what to say, he just nodded. "We have a couple things to discuss relating to your illness.

"First of all, at the recommendation of Professor Snape, I took the liberty of filing for a medical proxy for you." He paused to let Harry think about that. When he looked confused, Dumbledore asked "Do you know what that is Harry?"

"Not really," Harry admitted, "Healer Smithe mentioned it. That either my guardian or medical proxy has to be at the appointment tomorrow to sign off on the treatment plan."

Dumbledore stood and started pacing the sitting room, "Since you're underage, you're not old enough to make decisions like this without an adult to assist you. That usually falls to your guardians," he peered at Aunt Petunia, "who are expected to make decisions with your best interest in mind. Occasionally, when it's believed the guardian cannot or will not make a decision based on the best interest of the child, another person can be assigned that duty. A medical proxy gives someone outside your guardians the rights to make medical decisions on your behalf.

"Given that you're a wizard, I was able to start the process discreetly at the ministry and they've assigned another person to oversee your care. I take it you don't contest such an arrangement Petunia?" Dumbledore and Snape watched Harry closely.

"Absolutely not, someone else can do all that," Petunia sounded angry which hurt Harry more than her confession to not wanting him. _Could this day get any worse?_

"Oh good, that will make this process infinitely easier. I have some papers for you to sign relinquishing your medical responsibility for Harry," he waved his hand and papers flew onto the coffee table in front of them.

"So, who is responsible for my medical decisions?" Harry asked thinking it was odd the headmaster hasn't said yet.

"That would be Professor Snape," Dumbledore said casually.

_I was wrong, it can get worse._

"No," was all Harry could say. "Why not Mr. or Mrs. Weasley? Or Remus? I'm sure any of them would be more than happy to," Harry was panicking now. Snape could not be in charge of his medical decisions. He'd just heard the man tell Voldemort where he was for the summer! _But he didn't say anything about the cancer._ He shook that thought from his mind.

"After a lot of consideration, Professor Snape is the best option to give you what you need. I don't think you'd like to burden the Weasley's with an illness like this one and Remus can't be with you at all the times you may need him. Plus he legally cannot."

"But professor," Harry pleaded, "there's got to be someone else."

"By all means Potter," Snape finally joined the conversation, "don't try to hide any of your feelings on my account."

_Was that a joke?_

Picking up the papers on the coffee table, Dumbledore added, "It's already completed Harry. I think you'll find he has the capability to help you beyond what you'd even imagine possible."

 _Not likely, but whatever_ Harry was too tired to argue.

"That leads us to our next piece of business. Treatment options," the old professor said. Harry thought for the first time, he was beginning to look his age.

"Do I need to be here for this?" Aunt Petunia rudely asked standing up.

"You're not done yet Tuney," Snape snarled, "sit down."

Petunia sat down instantly and Harry enjoyed getting to see his aunt look terrified. He couldn't hide this smirk.

"No offense, but can we just get to the point," Harry finally said. "I'm exhausted and really want to go to bed."

"Oh course Harry," Dumbledore smiled at him. "We need to discuss your treatment, or rather you and professor Snape need to discuss it."

Harry eyed his potions professor warily. "So let me try to work this out," he replied. "My options are to either go the magical route with potions, I'm guessing an awful lot of them, but I could die because there's not much success of them working or I could take muggle treatment but I could lose my magic..." He looked at Dumbledore, "Which is a pretty big deal right now, what with the war and all."

Dumbledore nodded slightly and Harry was unsure if it was because of the options or because of his involvement in the war.

"Professor Snape," Harry asked, "what kind of potions would I take?"

"They're specially created for each witch or wizard," Harry wouldn't know that he was intentionally trying to be vague. "They basically aid your magic in killing off the cancer cells. Like Healer Smithe mentioned this afternoon, there's very few cases where it was successful. Part of which is due to so few wizarding cases of the disease to begin with."

"So wait minute," Aunt Petunia interrupted, "you have _magic_ but your magic can't even help you now?" She sounded like she was gloating which Harry did not need to hear.

"Yeah, Aunt Petunia that's pretty much it," Harry said sadly. "Is there really a choice? I can't save the wizarding world when I have no magic." He asked, genuinely confused.

"Harry," Snape said, finally sitting down where Dumbledore was previously sitting, across from Harry. "I would be the one making the potions, and I can tell you it's not good enough. It's not worth the risk on your life. I am the top Potions Master in the U.K. and probably most of Europe, I know we don't always see eye to eye, but I know what I'm talking about with this."

 _That was unexpected_.

"I understand sir," Harry thought hard about what was just said. "What happens with Voldemort," Snape hissed when he said the name, "if I lose my magic?"

"Then everyone else goes on fighting," Snape explained looking at Dumbledore for help, but getting none. Snape threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

"Harry," the blue-eyed wizard finally said, "ultimately, you need to make the decision best for you, not me, and not the wizarding world."

Harry could hear the desperation in his voice and knew that Dumbledore didn't completely feel that way. He didn't like the position he was put into. What if he kept his magic but the cancer wasn't gone before getting to defeat Voldemort? If he truly believed the prophecy and he was destined to be The Chosen One, then did it matter which option he chose?

"Can I think about it tonight?"

"Of course," Snape replied, staring at Dumbledore.

"Petunia," the Headmaster said "Professor Snape will be back in the morning to accompany your nephew again. You will also have the pleasure of his company as your house guest until we can make other arrangements for Harry's care." He looked over his spectacles at her, "I take it this will not be a problem either?"

Aunt Petunia clearly looked angry and disgusted, but just sharply nodded her head.

"Wonderful. If that's all here, I believe you and I have some things to catch up upon, Severus." He walked to the door with Snape right behind him. "Good night Harry."

Harry heard the door close and wanted nothing more to go to sleep to find out this has been one long dream. Instead, his uncle walked in the door and screamed, "BOY! What were those freaks doing at this house!" as he was attempting to walk quickly into the kitchen assuming that was where Harry would be.

_Nope, not dealing with this now_

Harry looked at Aunt Petunia who appeared to be deep in thought, she didn't notice him stand up and leave the room for the stairs. He'd just missed Uncle Vernon as he entered his bedroom. Not bothering to change his clothes, he curled up in bed trying to ignore his uncle's footsteps coming up the stairs. His door was opened so quickly it slammed against the wall definitely leaving a crack.

"Your chores are _not_ done. Get out of bed this instant," he screamed to Harry, his face turning the famous purple color.

"I really don't care Uncle Vernon," he didn't even lift his head from the pillow or open his eyes.

"Don't you _dare_. After everything your aunt and I have done for you," he sneered walking over to Harry's bed and pulling his head up by the back of his hair. "You do not disrespect us. I expect today's chores to be done with tomorrow's. Might I suggest you get started tonight."

He pushed Harry's head back down and left the room. Harry did not hear the locks on the outside of the door, clearly supposed to mean that he should do the chores overnight.

_Not going to happen._

He fell asleep thinking about magic and medicine, Voldemort and Snape, and finally his friends. In a matter of days, his whole life had drastically changed and he can't even tell them a single thing about it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Crossroads


	8. The Crossroads

Harry woke up to the sun shining through the bedroom window. Feeling rested for the first time in weeks, he was sure the last couple days were all just a horrible nightmare. Grabbing his glasses from the desk, not even sure when he'd taken them off, he put them on and looked at the clock.

_7:30?! I missed making breakfast_

Groaning, he got out of bed, feeling the dull ache in his right hip... Nope, definitely not a horrible nightmare.

He changed his clothes and was ready for the day in record time. Deciding on the same jeans from yesterday - they were his best looking ones after all - and a blue t-shirt that was very much oversized for his small frame. Walking downstairs slowly, he jumped in surprise to see a man with short blonde hair sitting at the table with his back towards Harry. The man was wearing a light green button down shirt and black trousers. He was reading the paper ignoring the scared look from Harry's cousin sitting across from the man.

"M- morning H- H- harry," Dudley stuttered.

"What's up with you?" Harry questioned.

"Um..." His cousin didn't answer, instead he stared ahead at the mysterious man.

"Excuse me," Harry approached the man feeling annoyed that his cousin was useless, and let out the breath he'd been holding when he saw the familiar face.

"Professor Snape?" He asked bewildered. In front of him was the same glamoured Snape from yesterday. "You could have said something. Dudley looks like he's about to have a heart attack."

"Interesting. I was just setting down some ground rules for my upcoming stay," he slowly said. "I have no control over his reaction to said rules."

Harry rolled his eyes and sat down, grabbing a piece of toast from a plate on the table.

"You need to eat more than that," Snape lectured handing Harry the bowl of scrambled eggs and a plate. Pausing for a second and then deciding Snape wouldn't actually poison him in the broad daylight of his kitchen, he put a small portion on the plate with his toast, then started eating.

"Where's Aunt Petunia?"

"Your aunt didn't feel the need to be here this morning ," Snape tried to smirk, but it didn't give the same sinister look from his glamoured face, "so I sent her for some supplies."

"You sent her sir? And she went?"

"As you know, I can be very convincing. She wasn't given much of a choice. Now finish up, we have to go." Snape stood up and left the room abruptly with the folder of Harry's paperwork from the hospital.

"He's st- staying with us?" a very pale Dudley asked. Harry had no doubt he was thinking about his rough encounters with wizards.

"Unfortunately. At least for a little bit anyway." Harry wasn't sure if this was good or not. If Snape could send his aunt out for errands and he was able to eat, then it may be worth putting up with him. _Maybe_.

"You'll be fine Big D and if not I'll see you as potions ingredients next term," Harry smirked at the thought. He stood up to head out with Snape and grabbed the edge of the table when a dizzy spell hit him.

Satisfied he wasn't about to topple over, he set his plate in the sink commiting to do the dishes when he returned. He walked out of the kitchen to the front door where his professor was waiting.

"I have your school truck upstairs in the room your relatives are grudgingly letting me use," Snape said, taking his own wand out and pointing it at Harry, who somehow managed to only flinch slightly. Once he felt the glamour back on, he opened the door.

"Ready professor?"

* * *

Harry landed at the apparation point feeling only slightly disoriented and did not have the urge to lose his breakfast. Though proud of himself for the successful apparation, he still liked that form of magical travel the least.

As they walked towards the hospital Snape casually asked, "Have you thought anymore of treatment options? Healer Smithe will want to get everything in order quickly."

Trying to keep a steady pace so it didn't seem like he was thrown off with the question he answered, "Actually I have."

They walked the rest of the way in silence and just before entering the doors Snape looked over at him, "Care to share it with me before we go in? I don't wish to be blind sided if I have any concerns."

Giving a hard sigh, Harry went to sit on a bench right outside the door. It made sense that Snape would want to know, but he really hoped to avoid the topic completely.

"I just don't want to disappoint anyone," he finally said, hating his shaky voice. "I know this is my decision; it's my body and my life, but sometimes it doesn't seem like it."

"At the end of the day, I'm responsible for your medical care. I need to know what your wishes are regardless of if I agree with them," Snape said, feeling like he was in for a fight. "This is why we should discuss it before we go upstairs."

Taking a deep breath, Harry admitted, "I want to do the muggle treatment."

Snape's head shot up, clearly not expecting that answer. "And you're sure?"

"I know Professor Dumbledore will be disappointed, but it feels like it's the right decision to make. I don't know why, but it does." Harry was confused when he'd realized himself which option he wanted to do. If nothing else, he felt like he had some control this way instead of the magical way.

"Maybe with a stronger magical core than most who do chemotherapy, I won't lose too much magic. And if I do, well, then someone else will have to deal with Voldemort." He felt more relieved than he would say out loud by admitting that. "Can we go now?"

"You'll hear no arguments from me," Snape turned back towards the door. "This is why I'm here," he whispered so quietly he thought Harry couldn't hear, but instead Harry walked behind the man looking very puzzled. If Snape agreed, maybe he needed to rethink his decision.

They were back up in Healer Smithe's procedure room, glamours now removed, much sooner than Harry had hoped. He remembered the painful bone marrow test from yesterday and felt anxious about what was going to happen.

"First we're going to do what's called a spinal tap," Healer Smithe explained after Harry had taken his shirt off and was waiting for the test to start. "It should be relatively quick and what we're checking is to see if any of the cancer cells have spread to your spinal cord and subsequently your brain. Unfortunately, it's a very common occurrence for this type of cancer.

"For this test, I'm going to have you lean forward," he handed Harry a pillow, "onto this pillow. If it's ok, Professor Snape will help hold the position. I'm going to numb the spot, but it's very important that you sit extremely still for this test."

Harry nodded in understanding. Snape was going to be temporarily living with him, so he'd best get used to the man's help. Though he was still wary of the reasoning behind that help.

"Ok, here we go," he'd heard the healer say behind him and felt something cold on the lower part of his spine.

Overall the procedure went pretty well considering he had the bone marrow biopsy fresh in his mind. The most difficult part was knowing Snape was over his bent body and he couldn't move. Hopefully, he'd not have to repeat that anytime in the near future. He put his shirt back on and they all walked over to the healer's office.

Once the door was closed and everyone was seated, Harry noticed a lot of paperwork across his desk.

"I've received the medical proxy papers from Albus this morning. Harry, are you comfortable with the new arrangements?" Healer Smithe waved his hand towards Snape as he asked. It's not like he had much of a choice, but it felt good to be asked.

"Erm, yes sir. Professor Dumbledore came over to my relatives' house last night and explained everything," he was nervous, but not about Snape being responsible for him. This whole process was getting to him; he was scared to think there would be a time it would be considered normal.

"Ok, just checking. And have you both discussed the treatment options?"

"There wasn't much to discuss," Harry explained. "Professor Snape agreed with the option I wanted to go with."

"That certainly makes things easier," Healer Smithe was pleased. "And which route are you wanting to take?" From his conversation with the professor yesterday, he already could guess but wanted Harry to say it out loud. The more patients use the words, the easier it was to believe the reality.

"The chemotherapy sir," Harry said looking downward slumping his shoulders. "It sounds like there's more success that way."

Snape had a small smile creep up on his face. He knew it would be a long road for them both, but in the end it would be worth the risks.

"Perfect, that was my recommendation too. Unfortunately the magical world just doesn't see this enough to have the right potions available. Maybe with more research, someday we can be there, but that day is not today."

A paper appeared on his desk. Healer Smithe picked it up and examined the results. He looked pleased which made Harry feel slightly better about everything.

"Your spinal tap was clean; no cancer in the spinal cord. This means you'll just be doing some specialized preventative chemo to make sure it stays that way," his kind eyes made Harry feel like he did something right even though he ultimately had no control over almost anything anymore.

"That sounds like a promising start," he felt stupid saying but Harry thought he should say something about it.

Healer Smithe chuckled, "Yes, yes it is Harry. As for the other ways we treat your leukemia, it's done in 3 primary phases - induction, consolidation, and maintenance. I'd like the focus today to be discussing the induction phase; we have plenty of time to go through the long-term timeline, but we need to get started as soon as possible on the induction chemo."

"Of course," Harry said. "One question though, how long is each phase?"

The healer took a longer than normal pause before answering, "Well it obviously varies from person to person and a lot that depends on how well induction therapy goes. Our goal there is to get this into remission or where there are no more cancer cells in your bone marrow. The first phase will be 29 days followed by a week break. Most of the time it will go into remission after this. If not, then we start another round of induction chemotherapy. "

"Oh, well that doesn't sound too bad," Harry said. If he was lucky he'd be done by the start of term.

"I don't want to oversimplify this Harry," the healer warned, "it's a hard 29 days. Then, if remission is reached, we start consolidation which can last as long as 6 - 9 months, and if you're still in remission, maintenance starts. If it all goes smoothly, the whole process lasts 3 years." Seeing Harry's face start to panic he quickly continued, "but we'll take it one phase at a time."

This sounded like he was about to climb a mountain and he was sitting on his arse at the base. Plus there was an evil dark wizard who was going to try to kill him while climbing this mountain. He tried to push that last thought out of his mind, it was too much.

"Oh, ok." Harry felt Snape's eyes on him probably for his less than eloquent response.

"I've consulted with one of our pediatric oncologists, which is a doctor that specializes in cancer in children and adolescents, on your treatment schedule and to get you started," he pulled out a folder and opened it. Then looked over at Snape and said, "She's a muggle, but has a brother who is a wizard so she's familiar with our world. I know Albus wants as few people as possible directly involved, but at some point she may need to be more hands on. Right now, she knows I'm taking the lead - which I'm perfectly qualified to do," that last part was directed to Harry before turning back to Snape, "and that it's a magical child, but she doesn't know the identity of the patient. I highly suggest you, Poppy, and Albus meet with her to go over his files though and familiarize yourselves with the treatments."

"Madam Pomfrey will be involved in all this?" Harry really wanted to leave his Hogwarts life separate.

Snape jumped in to answer, "Since you'll be doing treatments back at school in the fall, she absolutely will be. Your 'medical team' will be me, Healer Smithe, and Madam Pomfrey for your primary care. Albus obviously knows, and your professors will need to know as you will be missing classes at times."

This sounded so much more complicated than he thought it would be. That's not even counting his friends and the other students who will inevitably find out.

"Harry," there was Healer Smithe's calm voice and kind eyes again, "this is not something you should be ashamed of or try to hide. You will do significantly better overall if you have people who support you and care for you around to help. You should not try to do this alone."

Harry glared out the corner of his eye at Snape. Both of them knew Harry historically didn't do well asking for help. Not to mention he was going to be starting this process at his relatives' house with a professor who hates him. Although thinking more about that last part, he wasn't so sure anymore.

"I'll try sir." That was the best he could commit to at the current moment.

Talking to Snape the healer added, "I also understand that you want to do as much of the treatments at his home?"

 _Wait, what?_ Harry's head shot up.

"Excuse me..."

"Mr. Potter, you're at the top of the Dark Lord's list to hunt down and kill," Snape was never one to sugar coat things, "the less you need to leave your aunt and uncle's house, the better."

_That's fair... No reason to go through all this to save my life just to have Voldemort get me._

"So given that you won't be doing treatments here, you need to either have a catheter or port inserted," Healer Smithe handed Harry 2 papers - one on catheters and the other on ports. "Both options make getting the chemo, any other medications, or tests extremely easy. My recommendation is the port which is a small device inserted near your collarbone and it's completely under the skin. It's accessible with a small needle, but not nearly as bad as getting an I.V. each time. They can also last for the entire treatment phases, and because it's under the skin you can shower and bathe as normal."

Given the choice, the port sounded the easiest option too, "What's the bad part of the port?"

"The big downfall is that it needs to be surgically inserted. You'll be under general anesthesia during the procedure," the healer didn't seem too concerned about it, so Harry didn't ask. He wasn't sure how much more information he could hold in his brain.

Noticing Harry was getting overwhelmed, Snape added, "We can go over this again if you need to."

_Did he really miss the chance to insult my feeble mind?_

"So this port will let me get my chemo done from my aunt's house?" he really just wanted to get back on track.

"Exactly. I'll be coming by your house for each treatment," Healer Smithe explained and Harry thought about how inconvenient that must be for the man. Handing Snape another set of papers he continued, "Here's a list of the over the counter medications he'll need as well as other general supplies, some basic recommendations, and how to help keep his surroundings clean. We'll be monitoring his blood cell count, but especially because he'll be home you should try to limit his exposure."

Harry had no idea what they were talking about and he hated to admit that he'd just ask Snape later to explain it. This was all over what could concentrate on.

"I see we're losing you Harry," the healer smiled at him.

"Sorry sir."

"It's a lot of information. You should read through the pamphlets I'm sending home with you and you're lucky to have Professor Snape proficient in the medical field; he can help walk you through any of this too."

 _Yeah, lucky me_ he thought sarcastically.

"We'll finish up so you can go rest. We can't get the port done today, so you'll need to come back tomorrow. The chemo schedule we've put in place is going to be roughly 4 times a week and will start this Sunday. You'll have a daily steroid to take, starting today, which you'll take orally; I've sent over the prescription which should be ready before you leave. We can go through the detailed schedule when I'm there Sunday for the first dose."

If Harry felt like his head was spinning before, it was nothing compared to now. This was too much. Hermione would relish in all these small details, but he really didn't.

"Sorry if this isn't the right thing to say but...," he met Healer Smithe's eyes and saw sympathy within them. He hated people feeling sorry for him so he looked back down at his trainers,"...I know you said we would take this one phase at a time, but can we do it - I don't know- one week at a time instead?" There, he'd basically admitted he was a "dunderhead" in Snape's words.

"Of course," his head shot up so fast he felt dizzy. Was that really Snape that answered him. "We can go through each week on Sunday mornings so you know what to expect."

"Oh ok, thank you sir."

"I'm going to send you home with some more paperwork to look through about the port. And I recommend reading through what I sent yesterday,"

_Was it that obvious I didn't read it?_

"Surgery is scheduled for 10 am tomorrow morning and if it's ok with you, I think it would be beneficial to do the first Intrathecal treatment since you'll be under anesthesia."

"I agree," Snape said when it was clear Harry wasn't going to answer. He was supposed to help make these decisions anyway wasn't he?

Standing up, his hip still sore, he was just about to leave when Snape put his arm out to block the doorway.

"Forgetting something?"

"Erm..."

Harry felt the glamour being placed back on him.

"How do you manage to remember things like that?" It was a rhetorical question, but leave it to Snape to answer anyway.

"It's my job to remember the little details. Most of the time my life depends on those little details," Harry wasn't expecting Snape to answer, but he definitely wasn't expecting an honest answer. "Let's go. We need to stop by the pharmacy."

Oh yeah...his medication he was starting today, before the surgery tomorrow, and then something that was happening 4 times a week. He was exhausted and it was barely lunchtime.

~~~~SS~~~~

It had been a long couple of days for Severus. As Harry's official medical proxy, he was hoping it would help gain some of the trust back between them. There was a lot of ground to make up and he knew it was going to be anything but easy.

Leaving the hospital, he looked at the address on the list of prescriptions to go to the pharmacy. Taking Harry's arm, noticing that he had a small tremble in it, he disapparated them to an alleyway near the pharmacy.

"It's here," he pointed to the door on their left walking out of the alley. Harry nodded and walked in behind Severus, a little bell ringing after each one entered.

They walked slowly to the back of the pharmacy, to the small window where a young woman was waiting.

"Picking up for Harry Evans," Snape said casually knowing Harry wasn't used to his pseudonym.

He looked over his shoulder and Harry was sitting exhausted on the chair next to the drop off window. Waiting for the pharmacist to locate the order, he thought back to how _this Harry_ had almost no reservations choosing the Chemotherapy instead of the Potions treatment. While it seemed too simple, he was fully aware - after reading through all the pamphlets last night - that this process was not going to be easy on either of them.

Ultimately, he wasn't sure how realistic it was to keep him at his relatives' house through this, which caused him to think back to his conversation with Albus after leaving the Dursley's last night:

_Severus arrived back at Albus's office after they floo'ed from Mrs. Figg's house._

_"Lemon drop?" Albus asked before Severus could even sit down._

_"Absolutely not."_

_"As you wish. Shall we discuss the summons first," Albus was referring to his earlier summons to the Dark Lord. Both men were now sitting in the chairs side by side._

_Jumping right in Severus said, "He's asking a lot of questions about Harry's summer location and specifically when he's typically moved. I was able to piece together that he does, indeed, have the location to his relatives home._

_"He's planning something and I can't tell if he wants Harry to stay put or be moved. I also haven't figured out who is leading it all, but it's not me and that alone causes some concern. With the Order directly overseeing his living arrangements, I would expect to be more involved than I am, especially if that is where the Dark Lord is intending to take him," Severus was nervous and Albus was really the only person he would ever admit that to._

_"Do you think your position is in jeopardy?" It was a realistic concern he would have to start to consider._ _Even with the memories from this world, it was a lot to sort through and he hadn't been as prepared for the summons as he should have been._

_"I don't think so yet, but I'll keep a closer listen in as I can. In the meantime, I think we need to be prepared to move Harry with short notice, which is not something that will be easy once his treatments start."_

_"What a great transition," Albus looked pleased, "do you have any inclination of which treatments young Harry will ultimately want to go with?"_

_"No idea. If I were a betting man, I'd say the muggle chemotherapy, based off the rant he made about doing what's 'required of him'. I have a feeling in the end, your less than subtle manipulations will work against you."_

_The Headmaster looked perplexed, which isn't something that happened often. "That's assuming you think I want the Potions, but alas my boy, even I know we are between two impossible options. I'll have to trust Harry's opinion whichever way he wants to go." Severus didn't believe that for one second._

_They both sat in silence for the next several minutes until Albus finally said, "I'll start working on alternate living arrangements for the summer should we need them._

_"In the meantime, keep Harry home as much as possible, try to do most of the treatments there if you can. I'll contact Healer Smithe if you need me to. I can also see when Poppy plans to return and send her to help if need be."_

_Severus nodded in agreement and after another pause Albus added, "Any idea on how last minute the new arrangements need to be?"_

_"I'll make sure to get you as much time as I can, but plan on no notice at all."_

"Mr. Evans?" Severus heard his undercover name called to the pharmacy window. "You're all set, is there anything else you'd like to add to your purchase today?"

He looked over at Harry who had fallen asleep in the chair. Not wanting to leave him for too long, he asked, "Can you show me where to find the following?" and handed over the paper he'd received from Alton.

"Of course," the young lady, Melissa according to her name tag, said stepping out. She peeked around and saw Harry sleeping too. "Let's get this quickly so you can get him back home." She looked kindly at Severus.

Less than 5 minutes later, they were back at the pharmacy counter; Harry was still sleeping in the same uncomfortable position. As he paid for the lot of medications Melissa said, "Your son's going to be just fine. I have a sense about these things."

Severus was taken aback and for a second couldn't think about what to say. There was no way she could understand the depth of her statement and what it meant to him. Maybe it would be ok and maybe someday Harry could feel like his son again.

"Thank you."

He walked over to wake Harry so they could head back to his aunt's house and eat lunch. It was becoming obvious Harry was starting to lose a significant amount of weight. After reading through the chemotherapy side effects, Harry would need to keep all the weight he could to begin with. The young wizard's face was pale and drawn, and no matter how much he slept the dark circles under his eyes looked like 2 bruises. Just taking a quick look at the too-small boy, anyone could guess he was ill.

"Mmmhmm." Harry mumbled. His eyes squinting against the harsh light of the pharmacy as he opened them. "Oh, sorry sir, I didn't know I fell asleep."

"It's of no consequence. Let's get you back and have some lunch," Severus held out his hand to help stabilize Harry as he stood.

"Best of luck to you both," Melissa called out as they walked slowly out the door.

~~~~HP~~~~

Once again, Harry woke up feeling like his head was full of cotton. Would there ever be a time when he wouldn't feel like this?

Finally feeling a little more clear headed as they approached their apparation point, Harry noticed, for the first time, the large bag Snape was carrying.

"What's all that?"

Snape gave him a looked that clearly said 'are you really that stupid' so he clarified his question, "I know it's my medication, but why are there so many?"

"Ah," Snape said, understanding, "I've been told that it's not advisable to use potions during chemotherapy because your magic will be taxed enough and we should not overload it.

"The rest of this is pain relievers, both prescription and over the counter, an antiemetic - like a muggle stomach calming draft-, an antibiotic, am antiviral, vitamins, and a prescription numbing salve for the port. Plus an extra soft toothbrush." Snape counted off making sure he wasn't forgetting something.

All of that sounded horrible. Except for maybe the vitamins, he probably should have been taking those every summer anyway for how little he usually ate. He could work on forgetting the stomach calming medicine and the numbing salve for now, not wanting to even think about why he would need them. Plus at least 2 kinds of pain relievers. He committed to reading up on the chemotherapy tonight so he could at least have an idea of what to expect.

That night was Snape's first night at Privet Drive and Harry was nervous about how it would go. Getting back to aunt and uncle's house was overall easy and unfortunately Snape didn't let him get away without lunch. He wasn't really hungry, but wanting to avoid the death-stare he was sure to receive from stating such fact, made him at least eat half of the chicken salad sandwich Snape had made for him. Snape also made sure he took his first set of medications which in his mind officially started his cancer treatment.

Picking up the chore list Uncle Vernon had left for him on the table, he noticed it was three times as long as usual. At least half of them he could easily knock out before suppertime, which calmed some of the nerves inside him. Snape had gone back out to grab some things and he could use the distraction for the afternoon.

He'd made it through cleaning the kitchen (counters, sink, refrigerator, and floor), sitting room, and was moving onto vacuuming the sitting room when he felt a deep sharp pain in his right leg. It had been duly aching on and off for the last week or so, but now it was almost unbearable. He fell to the floor clutching his thigh hoping that if he got off his legs for a minute, it would pass.

Unfortunately, this was the position Dudley found him several minutes later as he was trying not to let any tears fall.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked when it was clear that Harry was laying on the floor in pain.

"None... of your... business," Harry managed to say through clenched teeth feeling like his leg was being stabbed with a hundred needles.

He could see an internal struggle in Dudley's mind, which surprised Harry; he was sure Dudley didn't have enough brain power to think of another living being besides himself. Just when Harry thought his cousin was actually going to help, he turned around and continued walking to the kitchen. It shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. It hurt almost as much as his leg did that he could just walk away.

He finally managed to get himself up onto the sofa with his leg propped up on the armrest. Closing his eyes, he tried to breathe through the pain, feeling a cold sweat breakout on his forehead. Pressing down on his eyes with the palm of his hands, he suddenly felt something cold rub across his forehead.

"What the-" he started to yell and jumped when he opened his eyes and saw Dudley with a wet tea towel hovering over his forehead.

Harry met Dudley's eyes, confused by the gesture. As he was about to say something about this strange action, the door opened and Snape came in the doorway.

Dudley jumped up and said, "Pro-fffe-ssor, there's something wrong with Harry."

Snape - back in his normal Snape form but still in the light green shirt instead of white or black - walked briskly into the sitting room.

"What's going on?"

Harry went to speak when another pain ran through his thigh. He clenched his teeth in pain.

Sounding scared, Dudley said, "I don't know. I came in and he was on the floor."

"Just... my leg..." Harry managed to say, "... sir," he added.

Snape kneeled in front of the sofa to examine Harry's leg. Turning to Dudley, he commanded, "There's a small bottle of pain reliever in the bag in the upstairs lavatory. Fetch it for me."

Dudley did what Harry could only assume was his best to run out of the room. He could hear the loud thundering of his steps up the stairs.

Waiting for Dudley to return, the professor looked down at his student, "Did you injure it in any way?"

"No," Harry took a deep breath, " it's been aching... But now it's sharp."

Dudley finally came back with 2 small bottles and held them out to the Potions Professor. Picking the Paracetamol and depositing 2 tablets in his hand, he then pulled his wand and summoned a glass from the kitchen. He caught the glass and tapped his wand on lip, filling it with water. He then helped Harry sit up against the armrest of the sofa and handed him the 2 tablets.

"Take these," he said quietly, "they'll help." He was about to hand Harry the glass, but saw his shaking hands and decided to bring it to his lips instead. Harry was about to protest, but let the professor help him sip the water to take the tablets.

Helping to lay him back down on the sofa, Snape picked up the wet tea towel Dudley had brought and placed it over Harry's forehead.

"It will get better soon. Alton said this was very common with Leukemia, it's the cancer cells building up in your bone marrow," Snape explained less clinically than Harry expected. "Until those levels start going down, we'll manage the pain with the muggle pain medication."

If Harry's eyes had been open, he would see two people that he was positive had hated him, looking down at him with concerned faces. As the medicine started to work and the pain was subsiding, Harry felt himself starting to fall asleep. He couldn't believe how tired he'd been since all of this started.

"Sir," he said, sleep heavy in his voice.

"Yes Harry?" the low baritone voice said back.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome Harry."

_It's back to Harry... I like that._

"You call'd me Harry," he slurred his speech a bit as he was falling asleep.

* * *

Harry felt his stomach rumble as the smell of chicken wafted over to his nose. Cracking an eye open, it was almost dark outside which meant he slept another afternoon and Uncle Vernon was going to be angry. Groaning, he felt around for his glasses and then quickly abandoned that until he could at least open his eyes for more than half a second. Maybe it's best just to ignore the food, and sleep instead, everything felt better when he was sleeping.

He drifted in and out of a light sleep until he heard Snape's voice quietly say, "You need to eat."

Harry's eyes shot open. He stared at his ceiling willing himself to be anywhere else besides his bedroom. If he was in his bedroom then Snape was in his bedroom and if Snape was in his bedroom, it was only a matter of time until the Slytherins knew about it. He was never going to live this down, Harry bloody Potter lived in a room no better than a prison cell. Possibly more important, how did he get to his room? Last he remembered, he was laying on the sofa in the sitting room.

"Why are you in my bedroom? And how did I get here?" Harry leaned over to grab his glasses from the rickety desk besides his bed. Putting them on, he saw the always-stoic face of Snape, black hair curtaining his pale face. He could never tell what the man was thinking, but it couldn't be good. Sitting on his desk was a plate of chicken, applesauce, and carrots plus a glass of milk.

"You have surgery in the morning," the professor reminded him while ignoring both of Harry's questions. "You can't have anything to eat or drink after midnight, so you need to eat now." He held the plate out for Harry

Leaning up on his elbows, he grabbed the plate placing it on the bed in front of him. "You didn't answer my questions."

"Clearly, you're in your room because I brought you up here from the sofa downstairs, and I'm here to make sure you eat."

Yeah, he could have guessed both of those now that his head was clearing out. None of the Dursley's would have brought him upstairs. At the time they seemed like appropriate questions.

Snape's cold onyx eyes were looking at him as he ate, "Why are there locks on your door?" Harry froze. He held up his hand before Harry could answer. "Let me rephrase that, why are there locks on _the outside_ of your door?"

"Erm... My uncle doesn't like when I wonder at night?" That didn't sound convincing even to Harry's ears.

"Try again." Snape's eyes narrowed.

"You obviously already know, so why are you asking!" Taking another bite of chicken, he couldn't believe he was eating his 3rd meal for the day.

"I've had a talk with your aunt and uncle. For all intents and purposes, you're in my care now, they have no say so over what it is you do." That didn't sound much better, but Harry knew not to say so. "Have you read through any of the materials yet?"

"Not quite... I decided to do my chores first and then, well, you saw what happened." He paused, "Thank you, by the way."

"You already thanked me," Snape said quickly, "do you have any questions about what's going to happen tomorrow?"

_Am I supposed to have questions?_

"What exactly is going to happen?" He took a sip of milk which felt good on his dry throat.

"Did you hear anything that was said this afternoon?" Now Harry felt stupid for asking such a question.

"I do listen-"

"I wasn't being cross," Snape interrupted him. "I just want to know how much I need to go back and explain." Oh, now he felt stupid again.

"I'm getting a port inserted here," he pointed above his right collar bone, "and it's going to be under my skin and it's to help get chemo."

"Precisely. They'll make an incision-"

"Wait a minute, I don't need that much detail," it was Harry's turn to interrupt. He put his half eaten dinner plate back on his desk. "Specifically, what does being under general anesthesia mean?"

"It means you'll get a medicine that will put you to sleep. They'll insert the port while you're sleeping and when you wake up, you'll come home." Snape made it sound so easy. If it was that easy, why did he have to be put to sleep for it? "In the long run, this is the best option."

"And they're doing chemo then too? I thought they needed the port for that?" Here is where he started to get confused. Harry rubbed his right temple as he felt a headache coming on.

"The first intrathecal chemo, yes. That's the preventative one that goes directly into your spinal cord," Why couldn't Snape explain potions class like this? "It's done in the same manner as the spinal tap they did today, but instead of taking fluid out they'll put it in."

_Was that only today?!_

"At least I'll sleep through that one."

"Don't worry, you'll get plenty more if you feel like you're missing out." Snape didn't seem as amused as Harry would have expected. "We'll go through the schedule, in as much or little detail as you'd like, on Sunday before Alton gets here."

"Sir, what's going to happen with my relatives during all this? I doubt they want me staying here," this wasn't exactly the conversation he wanted to have but the question was sitting like a brick in his mind.

"Right now the headmaster and I agree that this home is the safest place for you. He's working to make other arrangements, but ultimately you need the blood ward protection at least a little while longer."

That didn't exactly answer the question, in fact it sounded more like a distraction from the actual question he'd asked. Too tired to push it, he sat up all the way to start getting up from bed.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"If you must know, to the loo sir," Harry rolled his eyes annoyed, "Or do I need permission to brush my teeth and take a piss?"

Harry could see Snape literally hold his tongue back likely from some snide remark. Not caring, Harry got up and walked right past his professor and out the door into the loo taking notice of his school trunk standing in the corner of the small room as he left.

He took a minute to take in his appearance in the mirror. The exhaustion across his face was the most obvious sign something was not right in his body. He touched the dark purple circles under his eyes as if he'd expected them to disappear with his touch. He then noticed how thin his face was, his cheeks were sunken in more prominently than in the past.

After deciding on a quick shower and then brushing his teeth, he walked back to his room hoping Snape had gone to bed. Of course, he wasn't _that_ lucky. No, instead his professor was examining around the room As a spy, he would have expected the man to be a little more subtle with his snooping.

"What do you think you're doing?" He snapped at the professor in front of him.

"Determining what still needs to be done to your room," he explained as if that meant anything to Harry.

Shaking his head slightly, annoyed he asked, "Can you leave?" That was about as nice as he could be right now.

"As you wish. We need to be at the hospital at 9:00 tomorrow morning. Don't forget, no food or drink."

_That was too easy._

"Got it sir," was the last thing Harry said before rolling over in bed and falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Start


	9. The Start

Harry sat in the hospital bed the next morning, still in his full _going out of the house glamour_ , picking at the clear dressing from the tube Healer Smithe just placed in the top of his hand. According to Snape, who was sitting in the chair next to his bed signing what appeared to be a textbook worth of paperwork, this was an IV and would be used to administer the medication to knock him out. Snape may have said "put you to sleep" to make it sound a bit nicer, but either way the IV hurt which just confirmed to himself why the port was a good idea in the first place. Right now there was something in it to hydrate him.

He was trying his hardest not to think about what was about to happen. He was going to be unconscious, cut open, and a small device placed into his chest - specifically attached into a vein towards his heart - all while having zero control of what was happening around him. This was not something he could spend too much energy thinking about.

So naturally, while trying to avoid thinking about the immediate future, he instead was thinking of the immediate past, which wasn't much better. Yes, Snape had mentioned last night that he'd "spoken with his aunt and uncle" and they basically couldn't tell him what to do anymore, but that didn't stop them from making his co-existence with them extremely uncomfortable. Take this morning for example, when conveniently his door had been "accidentally" locked last night which meant he had to wait until an angry Snape had come to supposedly "wake him up before they were late" only to find him trapped in the room. Aunt Petunia's face was bright red for the entire angry-lecture she received from Snape. Harry knew it wouldn't matter in the end; for one it was always Uncle Vernon that locked his door at night, and for two if it's not the locked door today it will be something else tomorrow.

Then of course, there was what Harry referred to as the immediate-immediate past. When he was told shortly after arriving at the hospital that a side effect of the chemo can leave him unable to have children in the future. So, sitting next to his professor, he had to decide if there was even a chance he wanted to have children someday - not something normal almost 16 year old boys think about - and if so, then he needed to go and "deposit"... It was an event he could have done without experiencing, but at least the potential future baby Potters are now secure.

Having run out of things to think about, he started picking at the clear dressing on the top of his hand and walking through different spells he knew and what they did.

"If you pick that off, they're going to have to remove it and do it again," came Snape's monotone voice from the chair beside his bed, not even looking up from the papers he was reading and subsequently signing.

He dropped his hand dramatically from picking the dressing, "That's a lot of stuff you have to go through."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say since Snape just looked up without lifting his head and glared, _that is definitely a glare this time,_ at Harry.

"Yes, it would seem they want to have confirmation that at least one person knows what's going to happen with you."

That was either the third or fourth time Snape had brought up the fact that Harry hadn't read through the pamphlets about his cancer, treatment, or port.

Harry just rolled his eyes, "I did read through it this morning, while I was waiting to be let out of my room."

Also not the right thing to say by the angry look in Snape's glamoured blue eyes. Harry had seen that look plenty of times in class, but it just wasn't the same on his _Mr. Evan's_ face and he almost laughed. Both of them would be happy to no longer need to assume their new identities every single day.

There was a soft knock on the door drawing Harry's attention away from Snape's mountain of paperwork.

"Good morning, Harry. How are you doing today?" Healer Smithe asked in his optimistic voice. He was wearing a set of green scrubs, which Harry knew from catching one of Aunt Petunia's hospital shows, and a white coat over them. This was the first time he looked like a full muggle doctor instead of a magical healer.

"A little nervous if I'm being honest," Harry gave a nervous chuckle.

"Not to worry, everything will be very quick and easy today. You'll be back home before you know it. Professor Snape mentioned you had some leg pain yesterday. Can you tell me more about that?" He was looking through Harry's chart and presumably getting ready to write down what Harry was going to tell him.

"Erm, not much to tell sir," Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "My leg has had this dull achy feel for a while now. Not all the time, but enough to notice. And yesterday when I was doing my chores, it was a sharp pain. Professor Snape got some of the pain relievers and it was back to the dull ache this morning."

"I'm glad the medicine helped. Don't feel like you need to wait out in pain, if you need something to help, let Severus know, that's what the medication is there for- _to help_ ," the healer emphasized. "Like the nosebleeds, fatigue, and bruising we discussed at your first appointment, bone pain is very common with ALL; it's the build up of the bad cells crowding in the marrow putting pressure on the bone from the inside."

"Professor Snape mentioned that yesterday," Harry was playing with a string on the blanket overtop his legs. This was getting too real.

Standing up, Snape handed the book of papers over to the healer, "Everything looks in order and signed. He's ready to go." Something about Snape signing off on his procedure made Harry's stomach drop. It was a good thing he wasn't allowed to eat otherwise he was sure it would have come up by now.

"Ok, Harry. A quick overview of what you can expect," Healer Smithe was going into his healer-lecture mode, "we're going to do the port first. It will go here," he touched just below Harry's right collar bone, "and will be about the size of a quarter. The area will be tender, or sore, but it shouldn't hurt. You will be able to feel and see it so please brace yourself for that; it can be a shock for some people when they wake up.

"After the port is in, we're going to go ahead and do the first Intrathecal chemotherapy. It's a combination therapy consisting of three medications that will be injected directly into the spinal cord. That process could be up to 30 minutes. Side effects you might experience are headache, nausea with or without vomiting, fever, and less likely some sensitivity to light." He looked up at Harry with a small promising smile. "Any questions?"

"No, I don't think so." Harry tried to ignore the unevenness of his voice and small shaking in his arms. Grabbing some of his Gryffindor bravery, he said, "Let's do this."

"Great attitude. Let me go call in the anesthesiologist, who is the doctor that will be overseeing the medicine to put you to sleep," for some reason Harry didn't expect another doctor to be involved, so he looked over at Snape for reassurance.

"There's going to be several new, muggle doctors in there which is why we're still wearing the glamours," he said slowly keeping eye contact with Harry's worried eyes. "All of them have been checked and vetted by both myself and the Headmaster. You have no reason to worry about your safety."

"Oh good."

Another knock on the door and Healer Smithe returned with another man dressed in the same green scrubs and white coat. He was an older gentleman with a fit build, short white hair, and brown eyes less kind-looking than Healer Smithe's.

"Hello Mr. Evans, my name is Dr. Clavin. You're getting a port for chemotherapy inserted correct?" The new Dr said quickly looking over his file.

"Yes, sir."

"Can you confirm your birthday for me?" He asked flipping pages in the chart barely looking at Harry.

"31st July, 1980."

With that, Dr. Clavin looked up at Harry for the first time. He furrowed his eyebrows while examining him. Shaking his head he commented, "Barely 16; I don't know how you do it Smithe."

Harry's eyes widened at the insensitive comment. He looked over at Snape as if to say _this guy's in charge of my care?_

Dr. Clavin hooked up a bag on the metal stand next to Harry's bed and started messing with the I.V. tubing. Harry was relieved to see Snape paying very close attention to what was being done.

Harry felt the back of the hospital bed lower and before he knew it, he was staring up at Healer Smithe and Dr. Clavin, while Snape stood up next to his bed.

"Ok, we're going to start the anesthesia now Harry," Healer Smithe explained noticing Harry was shaking a bit. "I need you to count backwards from 100."

"Oh, sure," Harry said, feeling nervous. "100... 99... 98... 97... 96... 95... " the numbers seemed harder to remember in the right order, "ninety-fffourr... Ninet..."

Harry couldn't say the next number as his eyes started to slowly blink close. The last thing he remembered was how much less nervous he felt as the blackness crept up and took over.

* * *

"...mmmh..."

"...rry..."

"...Harry?"

"...ake up..."

Harry could hear bits and pieces around him as he started waking up. He was laying flat on his back and as his eyes tried to open, he could tell the lights above him had been dimmed. Trying again to open his eyes, he was surprised by how quickly the surgery had gone, maybe they ran into a problem and couldn't finish?

"Harry?" He heard a familiar, kind voice.

"Harry, can you hear me?" The kind voice asked again, much closer this time. "You can open your eyes."

This time he forced his eyes to open and could only see a blurry blob in front of him. He felt around for his glasses, but his hands didn't go much further than his sides. He could feel the pull of the IV in the top of his hand every time he moved his right arm looking for his glasses.

"Here you go Harry," the kind voice said again this time it slipped his glasses onto his face for him.

Opening his eyes once his glasses were in place, the face in front of him was one of the last faces he expected to see.

"Remus?" Harry asked. He had to be dreaming or something. Standing over his looking down was Remus Lupin. He was wearing a worn brown jumper which seemed out of place in the middle of summer. His eyes were filled with concern as he gave Harry a weak smile.

"Welcome back Harry," Remus said quietly as if Harry might still have been sleeping.

Harry tried to sit up, but his former professor put a hand on his shoulder and gently held him back down.

"Stay laying Harry, the Healer said you need to stay that way for another 10 minutes so the medicine can distribute properly," he pulled the chair up to Harry's bedside and sat back down, his hand still on Harry's shoulder comfortingly.

"So everything went ok? I thought because it was so fast, something was wrong."

Remus gave the young wizard a small smile, "It's the sleeping medicine they gave you. It makes it seem like no time has passed. It's been a couple hours. And yes, everything went just fine."

Harry yawned and turned his head to the side. "What are you doing here? I mean, I didn't mean it like-"

Laughing, Remus interrupted him, "Don't worry about it Harry. Severus asked me to come; he thought you'd like to see a friendlier face when you came out of surgery. I hope that's ok."

"Absolutely," Harry exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as he could manage, which admittingly wasn't much. "Um...did he explain to you about... You know, what's going on?"

He held onto Harry's left hand and squeezed it. "He did, I hope you don't mind. I'm glad he told me though, so I could be here."

"Thank you," he didn't care what his healer said, he still felt embarrassed about it all.

"How are you feeling?"

Harry took a deep breath, "Really tired; most of the day I'm really tired."

"We'll get you better really soon. Just hang in there," Harry was pretty sure that Remus had no idea what the process was going to be like, but he didn't want to say anything. He just smiled at the man who was one of his father's best friends.

He heard the door open and turned his head to look. Walking in was Healer Smithe and Snape.

"Good afternoon young man," the healer greeted excitedly. "How are you feeling?"

"Still a bit groggy and a bit sore, like I slept in a wrong position or something." His lower back and chest were definitely feeling like something had happened. He didn't want to think of the details right now. If he could just avoid thinking about it, maybe it wouldn't be real.

"That's to be expected. You may feel more once you wake up a bit. We also gave you some pain reliever so once that wears off, don't feel bad asking for some more," Healer Smithe explained.

"When can I leave?"

The healer lifted the top of his bed so he was now, at least, in a sitting position. "You'll be able to head home in about an hour. We want to make sure you don't have any negative reactions to the chemo you got, and then you can go."

"Cool," was all Harry could think to say.

He looked past Remus and saw Snape sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. He was reading a potions journal, seemingly in his own world, but Harry knew he was paying close attention. He thought back on Remus's statement that Snape asked him to come. Not for the first time since seeing the professor in the hospital wing before term ended, he thought something strange was going on with the man he'd mutually hated for almost 6 years. Closing his eyes, he decided to table the thoughts about the potions professor; they would see plenty of each other in the coming weeks and he could find time to question him about the strange behavior.

Harry hadn't realized he had fallen back asleep until she heard Remus's soft voice say, "Harry, it's time to go."

Cracking his eyes open a little, the lights still dimmed in the room, he saw Remus, Snape, and Healer Smithe surrounding his bed. Feeling like an animal at the zoo, his eyes went wide.

"Sorry sir," he said sheepishly. He could feel a headache coming on and he rubbed his temple with his right hand. The IV had been removed while he was sleeping and he'd fallen asleep with his glasses still on his face, which always hurt when he woke up.

Swinging his feet off the bed, he definitely felt worse than before he took the small cat nap. Remus grabbed his arm to help steady him as he stood up. Harry instinctively touched his right chest where he felt a sharp pain when he moved; that's when he felt it - a small hard circle, about the size of a quarter as Healer Smithe said it would be - underneath a white, soft piece of cotton. It didn't hurt necessarily, but the area around it was sore and in general his body recognized something was there that should not have been there. He looked up and if possible, the 3 men were looking at him more intently than before, waiting to see how the young wizard would react.

"You will get used to it," Healer Smithe ventured, being the first to draw attention to the port. "It will feel strange at first, but your body will adjust and you won't notice it after a while."

Harry only nodded, not trusting his voice not to betray his scared emotion about the foreign object in his body that would be distributing a poison directly into his veins. He shuttered, which caused his head to ache some more.

Snape handed Harry a cup filled with water, "It's very important to stay hydrated. You were getting fluids in your IV before."

He took a small sip, feeling good on his throat he hadn't known was dry. The water hit his stomach hard, after not eating since last night, plus his headache, his stomach was roiling.

"Thank you sir. Can we go now?" Snape gave him a questionable look, but shook his head. The curtains around his bed were then closed so he could get dressed to leave.

"If it's ok Severus," Harry heard Remus from the other side of the curtain, "I'd like to help get Harry settled."

Harry strained to hear Snape's response as he put on his shirt without looking down at the port. He wanted to see it the first time by himself; it wasn't like he could forget about it, every time he lifted his arm the skin was pulled tight over the device.

"Of course," he heard Snape finally say without the expected grumble.

* * *

When Harry finally made it back to his aunt's house, he was pretty sure apparating almost killed him. Now with an awful headache, his stomach flip-flopping all over his insides, and his body sore, he was happy that he'd not have to do that for every treatment.

Since it was Saturday, he had the pleasure of all his relatives home when he walked into the door. As expected, they were in the sitting room watching the telly.

"Who is _that_ you're bringing in now boy?" Uncle Vernon bellowed seeing Remus walk into the house with Harry.

"Remus," Harry introduced quickly, "that's Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley."

Snape came in behind, closing the door and removing his and Harry's glamours. "Take him into the kitchen and see if you can find something he'll eat," Snape ordered walking up the stairs to do who-knew-what.

Harry deposited himself into a chair at the table avoiding his relatives' beady stares at him. _Let them watch._ Harry laid his head onto the table willing his headache, at this point maybe a migraine, to go away. He could hear the clanking of pots and pans as Remus was cooking something for Harry to eat and before he knew it, there was a small plate of scrambled eggs and a cup of apple juice sitting in front of him.

"Thank you Remus, but I'm really not hungry." He spoke into the table.

"You need to eat something Harry. Even if it's just a small bite here or there." A sound of concern could be heard in Remus's voice.

"I appreciate it Remus, I really do," Harry pleaded, "but if I eat now, I'm pretty sure it will come right back up."

"You need to try," Remus rubbed his back which angered Harry for some reason.

"Easy for you to say," he mumbled back, finally lifting his head.

Dudley waddled into the kitchen, knocking the right side of Harry's chair as he passed, causing the port site to sting sharply. Harry hissed at the sudden pain.

"Well," Dudley opportunistically said grabbing for the plate, "if _he's_ not going to eat-"

"Drop it," Snape warned grabbing the plate from Dudley's swollen fingers and placing it back in front of Harry, along with a small cup of pills "Eat, then take these."

"What are these?" He asked looking into the cup at the six pills sitting in it.

"Vitamin, pain reliever- there are two of those, antibiotic, antiviral, and antiemetic." Appearing satisfied that Harry would indeed take the medications, he went back upstairs. Probably to avoid Remus as much as possible.

Struggling to eat the eggs partially due to his headache/nausea, partially due to Remus watching him, he took each of the medications in the cup and was down right exhausted but so sick of sleeping all the time. He wondered what he was going to do most of the summer, probably work on summer assignments.

"Remus," Harry started very quietly broaching the topic he'd been avoiding, "I wanted to say... I mean I just... I'm sorry. About Sirius."

Remus leaned over placing both hands on Harry's shoulders, "Listen to me carefully Harry," he said, grief filling his voice, "I don't blame you, at all, for what happened."

Harry expected this, Remus was too nice to say otherwise.

"If only I didn't-"

"Harry, listen," he spoke ,"Sirius knew what he was getting himself into the moment he left headquarters, understand? The only people responsible for his death is you-know-who and Bellatrix."

"But Remus-"

"No!" Remus finally yelled. "Get that notion out of your mind. He would not want you thinking like that, he wouldn't blame you Harry. Forgive yourself, please."

Uncle Vernon stood up and as quickly as a man the size of a walrus could, approached the table. "Out!" He yelled to Remus.

"Excuse me Mr. Dursley?" Remus was being far too nice for what Uncle Vernon deserved.

"I said you're out," he pointed to Remus, "I've had enough of your _kind_ in my house!"

Harry almost laughed imagining what his face would look like if he knew the former DADA professor was a werewolf in addition to a wizard. Remus wasn't as amused and Harry reminded himself that the man wasn't used to the way his relatives thought about magic.

"It's ok Remus," Harry said comfortingly. "You should go."

"Ok Harry. I'm headed out on...," He eyed Vernon and Petunia, "headed somewhere for Dumbledore, but I'll stay in touch when I can. You take care of yourself, you hear. Try to listen to Severus, ultimately he means well."

Harry was overly confused about the last sentence and thinking about it made his headache worse. He stood up and gave Remus a hug

"Thank you for being here today. It meant a lot."

"Anytime Harry," he held his hand on the back of Harry's head. Pulling away he added, "I'll be back as soon as I can. Stay safe."

Standing with his relatives surrounding him, knowing that if they messed with him the very agitated potentially-dark wizard upstairs would hex them into next week, he felt very much alone.

"I'll be in my room," he said to no one in particular and he walked out to the stairs.

Halfway up the stairs he started to feel very flush; his head was pounding with the beat of his heart, and his stomach felt heavy with the small lunch he'd eaten. He ran up the rest of the stairs into the, luckily unoccupied, lavatory and sicked up his lunch into the loo until only bile was left and then dry heaves. It took another 2 sets of dry heaves until his stomach felt calm enough to stop leaning over the bowl.

Sitting against the cold bathtub, next to the loo just in case, he closed his eyes to focus on his breathing. A cold glass was pressed into his hand causing him to open his eyes. Kneeling in front of him was Snape, also holding out a towel which Harry took and wiped his mouth before sipping from the glass of water.

Groaning, he went to stand up, but his legs were still shaking. Snape lightly grabbed a hold of Harry's arm to steady him and helped him to the sink. Harry rinsed out his mouth and brushed his teeth, noticing the new extra soft toothbrush. Turning around, Snape handed him a set of red pyjamas he didn't recognize.

"Sir?" Harry questioned taking them.

"I may have noticed that you don't have sufficient comfortable clothes for your treatments, so I picked some up while I was out yesterday." In reality, the professor knew Harry's relatives never bought him any clothes of his own and what he did have was oversized and worn. He needed something he could feel comfortable in for the upcoming weeks. "Plus you needed some that provide access to your port," he pointed to Harry's chest.

Harry stared at Snape amazed; this pretty much confirmed there was something going on with the man in front of him. He was about to ask him about it, but his stomach lurched and he found himself heaving into the loo again.

Once that round passed, he sat back on his feet, crouched on the bathroom floor, head hanging. Snape sat on the edge of the bathtub holding a wet towel on the back of Harry's neck.

"Let's get you dressed and in bed. I'm guessing you can use some rest."

Harry nodded his head the best he could.

"Do you need any help?"

The Boy-Who-Lived shook his head and whispered, "No, I'll be out in a minute."

Snape opened the door and Dudley was waiting outside of it, face pale looking at his cousin on the floor.

"I'll just... use a different loo," Dudley managed to say.

Snape narrowed his eyes and said to Dudley, "Good idea."

Harry closed the door behind Snape barely registering that Dudley had been outside. He fingered the soft material of the pyjamas. It was hard to believe that Severus Snape, the greasy dungeon bat, had gotten him pyjamas just because he wanted to be comfortable. How was Snape so familiar with all of this? Did he know someone with cancer? He mentioned he grew up in the muggle world. The set of questions to ask him was growing by the minute.

To change into the pyjamas, Harry would have to finally see the port. Taking off his jeans, he pulled on the soft flannel bottoms first, surprised at how well they fit for Snape picking them out without Harry being there. They felt warm on his chilled skin and he almost melted into them, feeling like he was home.

Closing his eyes, he turned to face away from the mirror over the sink. It took some maneuvering to get his arms through his shirt and over his head with the sharp pinching of the port on his right chest. Looking down, he felt around the soft cotton covering the incision site. Pulling up the dressing around the gauze, he then turned around to looking at himself in the mirror before putting his pyjama shirt on. There it was; a small circle just barely pushing against his skin as if it were trying to escape. He wiped his cheek feeling the wet from tears he didn't know had fallen. Taking another deep breath, fighting back another round of nausea, he pulled on the button down pyjama top made of red flannel to match the bottoms.

~~~~SS~~~~

Standing outside the bathroom, waiting for Harry to change, Severus pretended not to hear the small sniffling coming from behind the door. He was thinking about ways he could help keep Harry's mind off of what was happening. In addition to several sets of pyjamas, while he was out yesterday he'd also picked up a couple books, muggle playing cards, a chess set, and some new sheets and blankets. During Harry's worst moments in the other reality, his favorite blanket made a difference to his spirit, so he took a risk that this Harry would appreciate the same thing.

When the door finally opened, Harry was wearing the new pyjamas and his eyes simmered giving away the tears that used to be there. He slowly walked out and towards his bedroom, clothes in hand.

"Where's Lupin?" Severus asked now realizing that the werewolf didn't follow upstairs.

"My uncle told him to leave," Harry mumbled. "Probably for the best, I'm not feeling very well."

Severus gave a non-committal _humph_ ; not really wanting Lupin around right now but not liking that they're stuck with the uncle. How was Harry supposed to stay positive when he was surrounded by hatred, both real and perceived.

Harry entered his room and stopped in his tracks, dropping his clothes in the process, Severus coming up behind him.

"Everything ok Mr. Potter?"

"My room sir?" Harry's eyes were wide with confusion.

Taking both of Harry's shoulders, he led the Gryffindor into his bedroom. While Harry and Lupin had been downstairs, Severus rearranged and set up his room to be more comfortable for his upcoming chemotherapy. Not only was the room completely cleaned and sanitized, the bed was moved to have a better view out the window, the worn threadbare sheets on the bed had been replaced with a new, soft, light blue set with a green comfortable bedspread not unlike his old room Severus was used to.

The rickety desk had been repaired and enlarged; on it was a stack of novels, a couple school textbooks, and various activities like the chess set and playing cards, along the top of the desk was the picture of his parents and his photo album, both of which Severus found in Harry's trunk. The desk chair was replaced with a plush, comfortable armchair where Harry would be able to sit when he needed somewhere else to have chemo. Draped across the back of the armchair was a midnight blue robe and a pair of matching slippers at the foot of bed.

Harry looked back at Severus as if it were the first time he had seen the black-haired professor.

"I was going to swap rooms with you since the guest room is quite a bit larger," Severus started, "but it is also both closer to your aunt and uncle's room, and further from the lavatory, so I did what I could here."

Harry was speechless, which is not something that happened often between this particular professor and student.

"Thank you sir," Harry finally said sitting down on the now very comfortable bed.

Severus waved off the gratitude. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, sore, but I feel like that's becoming normal now," Harry leaned against the back of his bed.

"It's to be expected," he sat down on the armchair next to the bed. "Your body is doing a lot of fighting physically, mentally, and magically. Let it rest when you can."

He picked up a journal off the desk, the same potions journal he had at the hospital that morning, waiting for Harry to hopefully fall asleep.

Instead he heard, "Sir?"

"Yes Mr. Potter?" He lifted his eyes; Harry was still propped up against his pillows, staring at the ceiling.

"You seem to know a lot about what's going on, you know... the cancer stuff," Harry was clearly nervous and slowly turned over to face Severus wincing from pain in the process. "How do you know so much?"

The Potion Master took a few seconds to think about how to answer, "For one, I read through all the material Alton sent over."

"So you mentioned at least half a dozen times already," Harry replied sarcastically.

Completely ignoring that comment, Severus continued, "Second, I previously mentioned that as part of my Potions Mastery, I had to study medi-wizardry and the fundamentals are very similar to muggle medicine. Potions Masters are essentially pharmacists for the wizarding world, so I can understand the processes that are explained."

"Oh," to Severus, Harry sounded let down by his answer.

Taking a guess at what the young boy was trying to ask he said, "I can walk you through any of it, if you have questions."

"It's not that... I mean, I definitely could use the help understanding it all. The pamphlets didn't make much sense," Harry looked away from Severus as he contemplated something in his mind. "It just seemed like... I thought maybe you knew someone who had cancer before. Maybe when you were growing up or something."

Severus let out a shaky breath. He was definitely not expecting that and wasn't sure how to respond. He reached over to the desk, picked up the cup of water and handed it to Harry. "You need to try and stay hydrated," he recognized it was a weak diversion, at best.

Harry took the cup and, sitting back against his bed, took a small sip. The silence between them was deafening.

"You're right," Severus finally spoke; so quietly he wasn't sure Harry could hear him until he saw a spark in those emerald green eyes, "I knew a young boy with cancer. It feels like it was a whole other world ago."

"Were you close to him?" There was genuine curiosity in Harry's voice to know.

"Very much so. He was like family to me," he admitted, voice thick with grief.

Severus could see the question sitting on the tip of Harry's tongue, anticipating it before the boy even spoke, "What happened to him?"

There it was.

"That's a story for another day perhaps," it was as neutral of an answer as he could give, but Harry knew. Of course he did, had it been a positive outcome, that would have been the answer instead.

Harry pulled his knees up to his chest. Snape saw the pleading and fear in the boy in front of him, but knew the topic was closed; that Harry wouldn't continue to ask. In a different time and place this child was his; here he was so different yet so much the same as the Harry he once knew.

He noticed Harry's body stiffen, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. Severus got up and moved out of the way as Harry lept out of bed and towards the loo. He found himself standing outside the lavatory door once again, trying to give as much privacy as possible to the occupant inside.

Finally hearing the retching subside, he carefully opened the door. Harry was brushing his teeth again when their eyes met in the mirror.

"I'll let Alton know the antiemetic is not working, I'm sure he can bring something stronger with him tomorrow."

Harry nodded slightly, spitting out the last remnants of toothpaste then rinsing his mouth. He walked by Severus and back into bed without a word spoken. He rolled onto his side and fell asleep into what would be anything but a restful sleep.


	10. The First Day

**_7th July, 1996_ **

When Harry started to stir, the first thing he noticed was the feel of a soft blanket against his cheek. He brought it closer against his face and wondered why he hadn't been woken up by any of the other boys in the dorm. He could hear them rustling around the room talking softly and yet they hadn't tried to wake him. His throat was parched and sore and several places on his body, specifically his legs, were screaming from bone pain. Had there been a quidditch accident?

No, he was not in Gryffindor tower at all. Bits and pieces from the previous night came back to him; eating dinner with Snape and the Dursley's - which was probably the highlight of the night - watching Snape find any and every way possible to make Uncle Vernon angry or terrified. Of course, eating didn't seem to be very productive because the next several hours were spent expelling most of it into the loo. Then, the pain medication wore off while he was sleeping and he tried his hardest not to complain about it, but in the end it was more painful than he'd expected. He was finally able to fall asleep some time half-past three in the morning, mostly due to the prescription pain medication, with Snape still sitting in the armchair watching over him.

Moaning more than he would ever tell anyone, his eyes peeled open and saw two blurry figures talking near his door. He leaned over and grabbed his glasses from the desk and plopped them on his face, not caring that they desperately needed to be cleaned.

As he'd expected, the two men were Snape and Healer Smithe. A quick look around the room showed everything appearing in order except a metal stand was now standing between the armchair and the bed, and a large black bag was on the floor beside it.

"Ah! Good morning Harry," Healer Smithe cheerfully greeted when he noticed the young wizard was finally awake. "I heard you had a rough reaction to the I.T. chemo yesterday, so I wanted to let you get as much sleep as possible this morning before we start. I have a stronger antiemetic that I'll give you through your port before the chemo is started."

"Rough is a good way to put it sir," Harry groggily replied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Do I have time for a quick shower? I feel kind of gross after last night."

"Yes, we have some time," Snape replied. "There's some more pyjamas in the wardrobe for you."

"Before you go," the healer added, "I'd like to check your port site. Then after the shower, be sure to put on some of the numbing cream."

Harry laid back against his pillows and unbuttoned the top 3 buttons of his shirt to reveal the site. He may not have been qualified to say, but it looked like it was healing well. Healer Smithe put on some gloves and felt around the port.

"Any pain directly relating to the port or area around it?" He asked.

"Not really anymore sir. It just feels," he thought about the best way to describe it, "...different."

"As I said yesterday, you'll get used to the feeling. Let me or Professor Snape know immediately if there's any sudden pain or burning."

Making eye contact with the healer, Harry nodded, "I will sir "

Harry then stood up, putting on the slippers and robe Snape had gotten for him, and opened the wardrobe doors revealing several sets of new pyjamas in a wide range of colors. Grabbing a light green set, he went to the bathroom to get ready.

He returned to his room only 30 minutes later wearing the green pyjamas, robe, and slippers. His room was empty and he briefly wondered where Snape and the healer had gone. He sat down on the plush armchair looking out at the dreary sky which threatened more rain.

_A perfect day to be stuck inside._

In front of him on the desk sat a bowl of porridge with sliced bananas and strawberries mixed in, a glass of water, and a small cup of his morning medication. He stared at his breakfast like it was going to jump up and attack him. The irony wasn't lost on him; when he wished for regular meals during the summers, this was not the circumstances he had expected. Wanting to avoid another lecture from Snape, he started with small spoonfuls of the porridge. He'd finished most of it and took the medicine when the door opened.

_So much for any privacy._

"Oh good, you're eating," his healer said, walking to Harry and leaning against the bed. "If it's ok, I'd like to get started with a quick blood test and the medicine to help prevent the nausea. Hopefully this will work better than yesterday."

"That sounds good."

Healer Smithe put on a pair of gloves, "I'll be drawing blood before each chemo treatment to check your blood levels before we start."

Harry nodded and the healer took a small phial of blood, then hooked up the antiemetic. Harry was happy that the small needle prick into the port was both quick and painless.

"Ok, we'll let that drip and then get started. I'm going to go and test your sample and be back once that's done. Do you need anything in the meantime?"

"No, sir". Harry looked through the contents on his desk, picking up his charms book deciding to get started on some of his summer assignments. He opened the desk drawers and found it full of muggle paper and pens. He looked down in confusion.

"It'll be easier to do your work this summer with muggle materials," Snape scared him as he hadn't heard the door open.

"Like you will accept anyone's work on paper, especially mine," Harry said sarcastically tossing his book to the side.

"Since I'm the one who got it approved with your professors and provided said materials, I think you'll be just fine." He leaned up against the wardrobe with his arm crossed across his chest.

"Oh," that made sense. In a need to change the subject he asked, "Sir? What's going to happen with Voldemort and, well, all this?" Harry looked up at the bag hanging on his IV stand.

"Professor Dumbledore and I are working on some contingency plans should something arise," Harry wasn't surprised by the generic answer. "We're going to keep you in the protective wards as much as possible in the meantime."

That didn't sound like much of a plan, but he couldn't really go seek out the dark wizard in his current state, so he had to go with it for once.

Snape moved so he was sitting on Harry's bed across from him, when the healer came back in.

"Let's take a look," he walked over and examined the bag of medication hanging. "Almost done. I'd like to go over the schedule while this finishes." Harry nodded, feeling like that was all he did lately.

"Every Sunday, for the next 5 weeks, you'll get a set of 2 medications through your port; both of which are the first line of treatment for ALL. Over all, each of these treatments should take about 2 hours and you'll have a week's rest between them.

"Side effects you may experience are fatigue, nausea, vomiting, low blood counts, which means you can be more prone to illness and bleeding, - Professor Snape will be trying to keep you as germ-free as possible - mouth sores, and hair loss. You should also know that one of them can cause your urine to turn red or pink because of its red color." He paused so Harry and Snape could digest what he'd said.

"How long will all that last?" Harry thought to ask.

"It varies person to person, but the first 24 hours after chemo trends to be the worst of it. You probably won't feel like doing much or eating much today and that's ok. Just eat and sleep when you can.

"That will be it for this week since you did the first intrathecal yesterday. Starting next week, in addition to the Sunday treatments, we'll add an additional one on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday for 3 weeks in a row. It's a different medication that we'll go over next Tuesday."

Harry could feel Snape's eyes on him, so he lifted his head a little higher, refusing to show weakness in front of the man. "One more question," Harry knew it was going to sound petty in the long run, but had to ask, "will my hair really fall out?"

The healer had been expecting that question. Every cancer patient, especially the adolescents, ask it. "Most likely, yes. The chemotherapy drugs target fast growing cells, which is why they work well in getting rid of the cancerous ones, but they can't differentiate the types of cells and hair follicles are unfortunately fast growing. A lot of patients choose to shave their hair when it starts to fall out."

"Gotcha... Let's just get this over with." What else could he honestly say to all that? He watched Healer Smithe switch the bag out and jumped a little when he felt the cold liquid going through the port.

"Everything ok?" Snape asked.

"Erm, yeah it's just cold."

Healer Smithe answered, "That's also expected because the liquid is room temperature. Let me know if you feel any burning though, that's definitely not normal."

Now Harry felt like an animal on display again as the healer and Snape watched him. It was so uncomfortable that he was actually happy when Snape asked him if he'd like to play a game of chess. The healer busied himself around with files he'd brought to review from the hospital.

Harry was slaughtered by Snape at chess, which didn't completely surprise him. He could guess that the spy had to be pretty good at strategically thinking in order to do what he does every day. They played two games before Harry couldn't focus on it anymore.

"I can teach you some strategy to the game," Snape said casually as he was putting the pieces away.

"Maybe by the end of all this, I'll be good enough to actually give Ron some _good_ competition," Harry thought out loud.

"Possibly, but he's a tough player." Snape didn't realize his slip of tongue.

Harry gave the professor a confused look, "How would you know?" It came out harsher than he expected. "Wait, was that a compliment?"

Thinking quickly Snape said, "If I remember correctly, Mr. Weasley did get awarded a significant amount of points, unfairly I might add, at the end of first year for his chess skills did he not?"

Harry wasn't buying it, but as he was nearing the end of the chemo, he was getting too tired to argue. He mentally added it to the ever expanding list of questions about the professor. He leaned his head down on the desk

"You've completed treatment 1 of chemo," Healer Smithe said tapping Harry on the shoulder. Sitting up, the healer removed the line from his port. "Try not to have any expectations for today, if you feel well enough go ahead and do things as normal, if not just rest."

Harry thought resting sounded like the best thing in the world right now, but didn't want to say so. He stood up and went to sit on the bed and Healer Smithe placed a pail on the floor next to him. Harry eyed it warily, silently happy to have it there. He could feel his stomach starting to flip and flop inside him. Snape was discussing his post-care with the healer, so Harry just laid back on the pillows and waited.

"I feel like we find ourselves in this position often," Snape said handing Harry a glass of water yet again once they were alone. "It's imperative you stay hydrated."

Harry took the glass tentatively sipping it, but a minute later found himself forcefully vomiting into the pail Snape was holding for him. When the nausea finally passed, he was sweating but cold, shaking, exhausted, and starting to feel pain through his body.

"Was he a muggle or a wizard?" Harry asked randomly, his voice cracking from all the vomiting.

He suddenly wanted to know more about the boy Snape had known. Watching Snape process the question, Harry noticed how completely exhausted the man looked; he wondered how much sleep Snape had actually gotten lately and felt guilty for being the reason behind it.

Snape's eyes betrayed his grief for a small second before answering, "He was a wizard." Harry didn't miss the confirmation of the past tense "was"... He was no longer alive and Harry assumed it was because of the cancer.

"And he tried to use the potions didn't he?"

"Yes," Snape's soft answer rang through the room. "Which is why, Harry, I didn't want you trying them, the chemotherapy has far better success than potions. By the time we realized they weren't working, there was nothing else we could do."

"Did they make him as miserable as I feel now?" For a split second Harry considered changing his mind if the potions would alleviate his current predicament.

"Yes and no," Snape recalled. "There was a lot of vomiting in the beginning, much for the same reason you are now - killing off the fast growing cells - but our stomach calming draught was more successful at easing the effects until his body was used to it. He didn't lose his hair, but was still very tired all the time.

"In the middle, several months in, we had a long period where things felt normal. He wasn't in any pain, his energy levels were back to normal, no more excessive bleeding or bruising, we thought we had it beat," Snape was starting to speak as if all of this was so long ago and fresh in his mind at the same time. "And then it took a turn and there wasn't anything we could do. No more potions or chemo would help; we were too late. In the end, all I could do was keep him comfortable."

Harry felt the sadness in his professor's voice. "I'm sorry sir." He meant it, he could tell whomever this boy was, the professor still cared deeply for him.

"You don't need to keep calling me sir," was not what Harry expected to hear.

"Erm... ok professor." The irony wasn't lost on Harry that this was the same man that demanded he be called either sir or professor out of respect.

These conversations were getting stranger by the second, but Harry didn't have time to question it before another wave of nausea hit him hard and he was bending over the edge of the bed vomiting into the pail. His throat was burning from the bile, his head pounding into his ears, and he was very aware of the sour smell coming from inside the pail as he leaned back against his pillows. As if Snape had read his mind - and maybe he had - the contents of the bucket vanished.

"I'll be right back," Snape said quietly walking out of the bedroom.

Harry looked out the window to his left where kids, with their parents in tow, splashed through puddles on the side of the road. The kids were holding umbrellas and laughing big belly laughs to their parents. Harry watched enviously for several minutes when he heard his door open.

Snape walked in and sat on the end of the bed.

"Try this," he said handing Harry what looked like an ice lolly. "It's made with a touch of ginger to help settle your stomach, while hydrating you."

"Thank you professor."

"You're welcome Mister Potter," Snape followed where Harry's gaze was when he arrived. The children were still outside playing in puddles.

"You can call me Harry," the young Gryffindor said. "You seem to switch between that and Potter, but you can call me Harry here."

Snape's face didn't give away his happiness at that statement. "Harry, then. You should get some rest."

"I really wish I could, professor," Harry tried not to whine, "I feel exhausted and jittery at the same time and that if I turn the wrong way, I'm going to sick up again."

Harry then heard Snape hiss in pain, hold his left forearm, and curse. Harry's eyes opened wide when he understood what was happening.

"Go, professor. I'll be fine here."

Snape contemplated something and then nodded his head briefly, "Do _not_ leave this house, ok?"

"Ok sir," Harry said thinking that there was no way he was in any condition to leave now anyway.

Snape gave him one more look and ran out of the bedroom.

* * *

Later that evening found Harry sitting on the floor of the lavatory shivering. He'd been there for the last hour after waking up from a fitful nap unable to keep anything in his stomach even though it had been emptied 3 rounds of vomiting ago. All of his body was in pain one way or another, and twice his aunt stuck her horse face into the room complaining that he couldn't take up the loo all day.

He was laying across the floor directly in front of the loo when he quietly heard above him,

"Harry?"

He looked up and Dudley was almost nose-to-nose with him. He groaned, "What do you want Dudley?"

"I... Wanted to see if you needed anything," Harry was surprised by the confidence in his cousin's voice.

"I'm fine..." Harry mumbled, lowering his head against the cold, tile floor.

"Sure you are. Where'd your professor go?"

"He got... Called out for work," it was lame, but the best he could think of under the circumstances.

"What kind of work does a professor get called for in the summer?" To that, Harry gave Dudley a glare that would rival Snape's worst.

"Dudley," Harry tried to say but ended up back over the loo instead. Once he'd finally stopped, but still resting over the bowl completely exhausted, a pudgy hand was placed on his back. The last thing he wanted right now was an audience.

"Are... Are you sure I can't get you somthin','' Dudley nervously asked.

"No, I don't know what I can take or how to get a hold of my healer." In hindsight, this was a big oversight on his and Snape's part.

"Healer?" Dudley was genuinely confused.

Harry laid back down on the floor, "A doctor for magical people. Seriously Dudley, I'll be fine." He closed his eyes hoping to finally get some sleep. A soft blanket was draped over his back and for the first time he was starting to warm up.

The next time he opened his eyes, the light to the bathroom had been turned off and the small window showed it was dark outside. The only light was now what filtered in from the street lamps. He rubbed his eyes, realizing his glasses had been removed. Sighing, he sat up feeling like his insides were on fire, but still had a small shiver when the blanket fell off his shoulders.

Feeling around the floor, his hand brushed against something solid; almost like a person. Groaning, he sat up all the way and could see a large blob leaning against the wall near where his head had been. From the steady breath, the blob was sleeping. Frustrated that his glasses weren't anywhere within reach, he was starting to stand to check on the other side of the sleeping blob.

"Looking for these?" He jumped at the sound of Snape's voice. Having solved both mysteries - where his glasses had gone and who was sleeping - he reached for his glasses that were being held out for him.

"Yeah, I was." His voice was hoarse but he tried to ignore that fact. "What are you doing in here? When did you get back?"

"I sat down waiting for you to wake up. I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep," Snape admitted and Harry thought that had to take some courage for him. "How are you feeling?"

"Like the Knight Bus ran me over... Twice."

"Let's get you up off the cold floor to start," Snape stood up, his robes all wrinkled, and held his hand out to steady Harry as the young man stood. "Have you taken anything?"

Embarrassed, Harry said, "No sir, I wasn't sure what I could take after everything this morning."

"Ah," Snape exclaimed as they rounded into Harry's bedroom. "I should have left instructions."

Harry sat down on his bed noticing a plate of peanut butter toast sitting on his desk. He shivered again at the thought of eating at the moment. Pointing at the food he said, "Thank you professor, but I really can't eat right now."

"I understand, but I believe that came from your cousin," Snape bent down next to the desk and rummaged through a bag Harry just noticed.

"Dudley's been acting strange," Harry said out loud as well as in his head.

With hard eyes, Snape looked at Harry. "If I may, I believe your cousin has just had the realization that you are not infallible."

Harry thought hard about that statement, closing his eyes as images of Harry Hunting flashed through his head; all the times he wished for Dudley to act like this, but had long given up on.

"You need to take your evening medicine," his professor held out a small cup with a variety of tablets and a cup of fizzy off-color liquid.

"What is this?" He asked referring to the beverage.

"Ginger Ale. It will also help settle your stomach."

Harry took a sip and slowly swallowed, taking each tablet with a small space between them to make sure they didn't immediately come back up.

"I don't think I've ever vomited more in my life," midway through one of the episodes, Harry thought about how he had taken for granted his previous good health.

"I spoke to Alton about it and he keeps saying everyone handles it differently. Your magic might be causing some exasperated side effects."

Harry nodded again, his eyes getting extremely heavy.

"Take this," Snape said, handing Harry a black sphere. "If you need me, just squeeze this and it will alert me. The color will change depending on what the issue is, so I can arrive prepared."

Harry placed the sphere on his desk and sunk into his plush pillows.

"G'night sir." Harry mumbled.

"Good night Harry," Snape said, but Harry hadn't heard him. He also didn't feel Snape take off his glasses and place them on the desk before carding his hands through the fringe of his black, messy hair.

~~~~SS~~~~

_Earlier that day_

"Lemon drop?"

As always, Severus declined the offered sweet from his mentor. Albus would probably have a heart attack if he ever actually took one.

The headmaster gestured to the seat in front of his desk. Severus had apparated to outside of Hogwarts directly after meeting with the Dark Lord, as was customary for these occasions, but he wanted to make this a quick visit so he could get back to Harry. He'd already been gone several hours and should have asked someone to go stay with the ill boy.

Sitting in the plush chair he told Albus, "I need to make this quick as Harry had his first full treatment today and is not well."

"Of course, my boy. Anything of importance to report?"

The Potion Master rubbed his forehead feeling it starting to ache. "This wasn't a full meeting, it appeared that only I was called at least at the time. He's getting impatient about Harry being moved, however that wasn't the purpose of the summons. He asked me to brew an extra-potent pepper up potion; enough for two weeks' time."

"And what do you make of this request?" Albus's eyes were full of questions.

"Could be anything," Severus admitted. "As whatever he's planned approaches, he could want something to keep the Death Eaters going, but my instincts tell me that he's requesting it for personal use. He wouldn't likely want to waste the extra ingredients on increased potency for some Death Eaters. I'd like to point out that my instincts are usually correct."

He could see the older wizard contemplating what this information could mean. "And what about young Harry's location?"

"This was not said to me directly, which again is cause for some concern, however Pettigrew was summoned while I was present. They're going to start a watch on the house, presumably to familiarize themselves with any scheduled departures from the wards.

"It's only a matter of time before they discover Alton's comings and goings. I doubt they'll put the pieces together that he has cancer, but they'll definitely find out someone in the house is ill. Hopefully since Alton does both magical and muggle healing, it'll slow down the discovery of it being Harry."

Albus nodded as he pulled out a broken quill from the top drawer of his desk, then handed it to Severus, "An emergency port key; the activation word is polyjuice. As you know, keep him within the wards as much as possible. Maybe if they see he's not leaving, they'll adjust their plans."

"Unlikely, but either way Harry isn't going anywhere."

Albus interpreted the intended dismissal, "One more thing Severus. Should we inform the other Order members of Harry's condition? If for no other reason, than to provide any last minute care for instances as this?"

Thinking hard about the question and implications of the request, he finally replied, "Ultimately, that should be Harry's decision however I do agree it's warranted. I'll discuss it with him."

Standing up, he walked out the door with the port key safely tucked into his robe pocket.

He apparated to an alleyway near Privet Drive after making sure to have his full glamour just in case the new Death Eater guard was in place. The sun was starting to set which gave him the benefit of hiding in the long shadows, but still having the ability to see anyone that may be trying to follow him.

Severus didn't even pause as he approached the door to #4; opening it and immediately removing the glamour the moment it closed behind him. He walked up the stairs, ignoring the rants from the uncle, and into the guest room he was using to drop off several things he brought from his quarters at Hogwarts while he had been there.

Once that was in order, he quietly walked to Harry's room with another bag of things he'd bought to hopefully help Harry through the next month. The light was off, but the sun still hadn't completely set so he could see throughout the room. Seeing the bed empty, the spy placed the bag next to the desk, eyeing a plate of peanut butter toast, trying to keep his calm about the missing boy.

He opened the door with more force than he'd expected and came face to face with Harry's large cousin.

"He's in the loo," Dudley said pointing to the lavatory. "He's been sickin' up most of the afternoon. I think he finally fell asleep on the floor." The young muggle was very pale and Severus got the impression this was altering the boy's view of his cousin, which was bound to anger Harry at some point.

Resisting the urge to say any number of insults to the boy in front of him, he instead gave a small growl and walked towards the lavatory. Not knowing where Harry was on the floor, he opened the door carefully so as not to open the door into Harry's head.

"Harry?" It was said as a whisper.

The bright light was still on, giving him a clear view of the young wizard asleep on the floor in front of the loo. He was laying in a fetal position and his face was grimaced as though he was in a painful dream. A thick quilt was draped over his shoulders and his curled legs.

The Potion Master removed two large towels from the shelf. He placed one on the floor above Harry's head and sat down upon it. The other he folded into a smaller rectangle, took Harry's glasses off, setting them on his other side, and carefully lifted Harry's head so he could place the towel beneath it. At least now he wouldn't wake up with a crick in his neck amongst the other pain he was already in.

At the last minute, he decided to turn off the bright lights, hoping there was some chance Harry could finally get some sleep - albeit unconventionally. Leaning his back against the wall, his eyes were heavy thinking through the horribly long first treatment day. He resolved to get Harry's permission to tell the Order of his condition. No matter what Harry thought now, he always did better with his friends surrounding him.


	11. Dudley Dursley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of child's death and child abuse in this chapter (neither graphic)

It wasn't until Tuesday that Harry started feeling closer to his old self. He was becoming more used to the port that would - for the next couple years anyway - sit under his collar bone, but he was still fatigued and taking the Paracetamol, on a constant rotation for the pain. Now he could at least stay awake enough, and out of the loo enough, to function. However, while he had been feeling physically well, a little better each day, he was starting to feel more irritated as the week went on.

By Friday, he was down right cranky with everything and everyone around him. He finally had time to contemplate the situation that was his life right now... Like the fact that maybe Dudley was more disturbed from the dementor attack last year than he'd originally thought - but that doesn't mean Harry could forgive him for years of torment, _too little, too late Dudders -_ , or that Snape had barely left his side since Sunday night - _or was that Monday morning? -_ , how about that he had yet to receive a single piece of mail from his friends; not like he'd sent anything to them either, but Ron does have Hedwig so he was pretty much off the hook for that one.

In the end, he decided to finally start his summer assignments while he had the energy to work on them before getting knocked down again on Sunday. School was still one of the big unknowns he was trying not to think too closely about. Would he be able to attend classes? If so, would he be able to use magic? Magic was the other big unknown he was avoiding thinking about. Summer assignments required no magic, so for now he could table those questions. That's where Snape found him after breakfast; sitting at his desk writing out his transfiguration essay with a muggle pen and paper.

"If you'd like, I'll look over your essays when you're finished with them." Snape offered. He had been trying to navigate Harry's declining mood all week.

Harry rolled his eyes, but with his back to the dark eyed professor it went, luckily, unseen.

"Yeah right, like I'm going to hand you a reason to insult me," Harry spat back.

Snape frowned at the response, pinching the bridge of his nose as he walked up to the sullen teenager. He leaned against the bed with his arms folded across his chest. He was dressed casually for the day in a white Oxford shirt and black jeans.

"Why would you care about my transfiguration mark anyway?" Harry continued, questioning to himself through the mist of anger, if having Snape read his potions essay would be the worst thing in the world and then a half second later deciding it would be.

Shaking his head slightly Snape replied, "If I were stuck with a Hogwarts professor for the summer, I would have tried to take as much advantage of it as I could."

Harry paused writing mid sentence, "Of course you would; cheating is a very Slytherin trait you know."

"Ah," Snape mocked, "taking the moral high ground I see. It's not like the great Harry Potter has never broken any rules before. And for your information, I guarantee to you every single other student, regardless of house affiliation, is having their summer essays read before handing them in."

Harry was just happy to be able to work on his assignments before the train ride back for term, but he wasn't about to admit that to the greasy dungeon bat.

"Yup, you got me. I only break rules when I don't personally benefit from it. Goes back to that whole martyr thing..." Harry trailed off as his mind wandered - _saving people thing_ \- that's what Hermione had told him before he ran off to save Sirius. At least he thought he was saving Sirius. He'd been doing his best to avoid thinking of Sirius this summer.

_I got him killed._

If only he'd listened to Hermione, maybe he wouldn't be here. Maybe he'd be back at Grimmauld Place with his Godfather. He felt a pang of grief and guilt rush through his chest. He looked over at Snape with fire in his emerald green eyes, if only the git had actually listened to his warning. As part of the Order, it should have been perfectly clear:

_He's got Padfoot in the place where it's hidden_

But Dumbledore had said Snape did do something, didn't he? He checked in on Sirius and then alerted the Order. Harry refused to believe it. Besides, even if Snape did act on the warning, it was his fault Sirius wanted to leave in the first place. Snape had to taunt Sirius about being useless; what kind of person says that to someone who was wrongly convicted of murder and had to stay hidden? A complete arsehole that's who!

Snape was staring intently at Harry, watching the inner turmoil pass through the young wizard. He had no way of knowing what triggered the anxiety attack this time and therefore how to help it.

"Do you feel like a martyr?" Snape asked tentatively, taking a guess at what was bothering Harry.

Harry glared over at the professor he'd worked himself into hating all over again.

"No, I don't. It was called sarcasm."

"Trust me Harry, I'm familiar with the term. I'll just leave you be."

Harry flinched at the sound of his given name being used. No, he hadn't forgotten he'd given his hated professor the permission to use it, but that felt like a lifetime ago. He watched as Snape placed down the small cup of his morning medication and a glass of water onto the desk beside his essay. Oh, he'd forgotten to take those downstairs. Harry's ears turned pink with embarrassment.

"This is your fault!" Harry yelled just before Snape left the bedroom.

The professor stopped in his tracks, turned around taking a single step back into the hostile room, and closed the door behind him. Harry audibly gulped, but was so angry about Sirius, he didn't care if the anger was misdirected even a little.

"Do pray tell, what exactly is my fault? I'd like to be certain we're both on the same subject before this argument," Snape sounded almost amused.

"You know what I mean!" Harry screamed back not caring how immature he sounded. If he was more alert he would have noticed that Snape seemed oddly comfortable with the idea of arguing with a moody teenager.

"You're the reason Sirius went to the Department of Mysteries!" He'd said it only half believing it himself. "You were always telling him how useless he was and thinking you were so much better than him." Harry looked disgusted at Snape.

"The only reason you're helpful is because you were stupid enough to get branded by your _other_ master before having what, some kind of epiphany? Changed your mind but it was too late? Maybe torturing kids in class was all you needed to feel powerful?" Harry knew he had gone too far, but it felt too good.

Snape, to Harry's surprise, wasn't looking nearly as furious as Harry had expected.

"You're getting dangerously close to things you can't even start to comprehend. Do you hear me? I suggest you turn around and finish your school work." Snape lectured with a harsh snap in his voice warning Harry to leave it be.

"No!" Harry challenged back. "I don't understand how Dumbledore can so blatantly trust you when you've given absolutely no reason for him to."

"And you've been privy to every conversation between _Professor_ Dumbledore and myself?" Snape mocked. "Can you not only hear conversations from afar but also before you were born?" Snape put a hard emphasis on the last four words. Harry felt himself flush even more as Snape approached him.

"Furthermore," Snape continued, "I'd like to point out that had I wanted to deliver you to the Dark Lord, I would have had ample opportunities over the last week to do so. Merlin knows your relatives wouldn't lift a finger to stop me," _that was low_ Harry thought. "So if nothing else, I should have, at least by now, earned a sliver of your trust."

Harry knew he'd deserved every word of that, but he was still furious inside. Looking up at Snape, who was standing with his head hung rubbing the back of his neck, Harry thought he could see a flicker of regret.

"Your Godfather's death is the fault of no one besides the Dark Lord and Bellatrix," Snape finally said after a period of neutral silence between them. "Are there other circumstances that contributed to his death? Absolutely-"

"You mean like you not properly teaching me occlumency?" Harry interrupted.

Snape took a deep breath, thinking back to their disastrous occlumency sessions in the past year before calmly replying, "I put as much effort into teaching you, as you put into learning from me."

Harry couldn't deny that statement. He wished more than anything that he could. He wished he could go back and change it. Could he have trusted Snape enough to learn properly? Probably not, but he could have tried harder to make Dumbledore see how bad of an idea it was for Snape to teach him. Of course if he knew the other option was that Sirius died, maybe he would have tried harder even with Snape as a teacher.

His green eyes met Snape's obsidian eyes fully expecting to hear "Legilimens". He shivered at the thought that Snape can probably do Legilimency nonverbally and wandlessly. A scowl was still firmly planted on his face until Snape bent down to kneel in front of him. Instinctively, the Boy-Who-Lived leaned back in his chair in an attempt to put some distance from his professor, preparing for the backlash he was going to receive.

"Harry," Snape said in a quiet voice sounding like he was trying to keep his patience. Harry couldn't hide how obvious it was that he was caught off guard.

"What," Harry finally said when it was clear Snape wasn't going to continue unprompted.

"Finish your homework and I'll be checking it over when you're done," Snape said and in one movement stood up, walked to the door, and left closing the door behind him.

* * *

Luck was on Harry's side because Snape had stayed out of Harry's room for the rest of the day. Harry wondered briefly what the man did during the day when they were inevitably locked up in the house. He made a mental note to peek into the guest room the next time Snape was occupied elsewhere. Not that invading his privacy was a good idea, but the professor was staying at his "home" so Harry considered it justifiable.

Walking down the stairs to the dinner table, which was the only other place he went besides his room, since he couldn't go outside due to potential exposure and he refused to sit anywhere casually with his relatives, he saw dinner was already served on the table. Not being responsible for a house-elf's worth of chores was a nice change for the summer, but he missed cooking. Even though he never got to really eat what he made, he enjoyed creating something seemingly on his own, and it helped that he was actually good at it too.

Tonight's dinner of roasted chicken with baby potatoes and broccoli sat plated out at three place settings. Confused for a minute, Harry looked around to see if maybe Harry was getting out of "family dinner time". Much to his displeasure, Dudley spotted him before he could head back upstairs to the safety of his room.

"Mum and dad went out again," his cousin explained. "Dad's got this big client he's been working on for weeks and he thinks they'll sign any day now."

Harry stared at the large teenager in front of him. Dudley was only a month older than him; if things had gone differently, if Dudley had treated him like a brother - no, Harry had stopped thoughts like that years ago.

"As long as it gets them out of the house, I really don't care why," Harry was still cranky and the last thing he wanted to do was small talk.

He sat down in the chair to Dudley's left, deciding that it was probably safer than sitting next to Snape. He was surprised the potions professor wasn't at the table yet, he rarely missed a meal. Maybe their earlier argument was worse than Harry had thought.

"You seem to be feeling better," Dudley said with a mouthful of potatoes.

Harry really just wanted to eat and leave, but that clearly wasn't about to happen. "Yeah, at least until Sunday."

"Why Sunday?" Dudley looked confused.

"Erm... That's when I get another round of chemo," Harry was pushing his broccoli around on his plate. Even though he wasn't as nauseous anymore, his appetite was not anywhere near normal.

"Oh," Dudley was looking down at his plate of food. "Where's your professor?"

"No idea," Harry peeked around as if he'd expected Snape to apparate downstairs. "We kind of had a row this morning."

Dudley's face went pale, clearly afraid of what Snape could do when he was angry. "You were never one to back down from a fight," he added, looking at Harry.

"What's that supposed to mean," the smaller teen said clearly insulted. "What the hell has gotten into you?" If Harry wasn't already so irritated, he probably wouldn't have bothered asking.

Dudley sat quietly staring at his hands for a solid minute before speaking. He could barely look at Harry in the eyes, "I've done some thinking this year... Well actually... y'see, there was a kid at Smeltings, David, and he reminded me a lot of you."

Harry wasn't expecting a story, mostly because he didn't think Dudley could put enough sentences together, but he listened to what his cousin had to say.

"I... Well, my friends too... It was like having another you at my new school" Dudley stuttered along.

"You mean you beat him up," Harry added, calling it for what it was.

"Yeah," Dudley didn't sound as proud as Harry expected him to, "but like you, he gave it as much as he took it, so it's not like I felt sorry for him or anything.

"I didn't really pay attention, you know, he was just always around. At least until we got back from Easter break this year and he... wasn't there." Dudley paused and looked up at Harry causing the smaller boy to shiver in anticipation.

"My classmates, we were all called to the auditorium that first day back, and... Well, David was killed over the Easter break. They said his dad... " Dudley waited either to compose himself or for his cousin to understand. Harry already had guessed where this story was going.

"The next couple days," Dudley continued, "they had counselors talking to the classes. All sorts of things like what child abuse is, recognizing the signs of child abuse, and who to contact if you or someone you know is being abused."

Harry put his fork down half in shock that his cousin had some kind of conscious now, half because he didn't want to sit and listen to this.

"Dudley, it's-" Harry started.

"No, Harry," Dudley loudly interrupted, "it's not ok. I guess... it was the first time I really thought about the way you were treated and that it wasn't normal."

Harry was not comfortable with this conversation. Yeah, things at the Dursley's weren't good, but he never considered himself _abused._ Just thinking of that word made him sick inside. Was Dudley trying to apologize to him?

_First Snape and now this_

"... And then," Harry realized he hadn't been listening to what Dudley had said, "after everything that happened, after all those years, you saved my life last summer. You didn't have to do that... I- I probably wouldn't have done it." Harry didn't doubt that one bit.

Holding his head in his hands, trying to think through everything Dudley had said on top of all the things his brain was already contemplating. _It's all too much. Sirius, Leukemia, Snape, now Dudley._ He could feel Dudley staring at him on his right and he peeked up to see Snape's plate of food sitting in front of the still empty seat.

"I have to go-" Harry stood up feeling completely exhausted and wanting just to go to bed.

"Wait," Dudley went to grab Harry's wrist, but the wizard staggered backwards at the sudden movement. He barely caught himself from tumbling backwards, "we were wrong. Ok? I know that now... Even if my parents don't."

Harry couldn't breathe. He was aware of his chest moving up and down, but it felt like the oxygen just couldn't reach his brain. He stood staring at his cousin, visions of being locked in his cupboard for days, getting hit by his aunt, uncle, and Dudley, hours of chores, and lack of food floated in and out of his mind. It was not unlike when Snape carded through his memories during the horrible occlumency lessons; memories forced across his eyes.

"Whatever," Harry mumbled as he quickly walked out of the room and up the stairs.

He could hear a door close further down the hall just as his bedroom door closed and he held his breath thinking Snape was about to walk in. He slowly let it out when Snape never entered.

He laid across the bed on his stomach, sun filtering in from the window across his back. He missed being outside. He missed feeling healthy. He missed his friends. He missed Hogwarts. He missed Sirius. It was with those invasive thoughts that he finally fell asleep, still in his oversized clothing on top of his comfortable blankets.

* * *

Harry found himself being shaken awake without any idea of how long he had been asleep. Peeking through his eyes, he could see the sun had mostly set and the lights lining the quiet street were illuminated. Sitting in the armchair across from his bed was Snape, no longer dressed in his muggle clothing, but instead his black robes like he had just gotten back from somewhere.

"You need to take your evening medication," the Potions Master said plainly.

Harry peered towards the desk and saw a cup with his medication along with a glass of water and a bowl of yoghurt with what appeared to be granola sprinkled on top. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and temples; sleeping with his glasses on always made his temples sore.

Harry reached out and grabbed the small cup and the glass of water and one by one took the tablets. He was starting to feel extremely sore, so he was happy it was time to take them.

"I'm sorry sir," Harry finally said breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Snape frowned as he looked at the young wizard in front of him. "You've got a lot going on right now, but you've never been one for self-pity Harry, don't start now."

Harry's anger tried to resurface. He wasn't dwelling in self-pity and he resented Snape for thinking that.

"It wasn't self-pity," he defended. "I'm just angry with everything."

"That's to be expected." Snape commented as if he were talking about the weather. "Not only is your body under a lot of stress, at least one of the medications you're on can cause some... Changes in your mood."

Now it was Harry's turn to frown. He hadn't thought about the effects of all the medications being somehow related to his current attitude.

"Where did you go?" Harry nodded to the robes Snape was wearing.

"We had a quick order meeting while you were sleeping."

"Here?!" Harry was surprised he wasn't woken by his uncle's ranting about more magical people.

"No," Snape looked at Harry as if he was the biggest dunderhead the professor had ever seen. "And Molly stayed here with you while I was gone."

"Did you tell them?" Harry asked quietly as he reached for the yoghurt and started taking small bites.

Two days ago, Snape had suggested they inform select Order members about his Leukemia. These are the people tasked with keeping him alive after all and they should know what to expect, there were times that Snape would be called away by either Dumbledore or Voldemort, but the point he stressed the most was that Harry needed to have people he trusted to help him through this and they couldn't do that unless they knew about it. In the end, Snape didn't really need to do all that to convince Harry. Before his first chemo, he would have told Snape where to shove the idea, but afterwards he just didn't want to be there to tell everyone. In the end it was a win-win for both of them.

"Yes, it was discussed," Snape explained while shedding his outer robe. "As promised, we only divulged the information to select members - Molly, Arthur, Tonks, Shacklebolt, and Moody - Remus already knows and was not in attendance tonight anyway. Also as we discussed, I let Molly know she could tell her children."

Harry thought that sounded like a lot of people and was secretly glad they'd discussed the list beforehand. Otherwise, with his current short temper, he would probably be extremely angry.

"Anything I should know about from the meeting?" While Sirius was the only person who ever told him anything about the Order, he figured he had nothing to lose by asking Snape.

Snape's eyes narrowed, "No, like I said this was a quick update meeting."

Harry thought about that sentence as he finished his yoghurt. Snape didn't say he _wouldn't_ tell him what was said, just that there was nothing he should know. He filed that information away for later.

"What happened with your cousin?" Snape asked casually as he took the bowl from Harry and handed him the rest of the water to finish.

"Oh, erm," Harry did not want to tell Snape about his treatment from the Dursleys. This summer had been so strange, Snape would be none the wiser to it. "Something happened at his school, I wasn't paying too much attention."

It was obvious Snape didn't believe one bit of that excuse and Harry couldn't blame him. He's a spy; just by him asking what happened meant he likely already knew.

"Are you ok?" Snape asked and Harry's head shot up at the question.

"It's fine, professor, really. He meant no harm," and Harry actually believed that.

Dudley couldn't know what he made Harry relive by bringing up all of the past. Harry also thought it peculiar how Snape was so interested in that situation. He remembered the memories he had accidentally seen by using the _Protego_ spell. Maybe Snape could relate, which is now the second time he's said that about man in less than a week.

"I think I'm going to go shower before bed," Harry said standing up.

Snape nodded, "Good night Harry." He stood and took one more hard look at Harry before walking out the door to his own bedroom.


	12. It's Complicated

**_14 July, 1996 Day 7_ **

After his outburst with both Snape and Dudley on Friday, Harry was trying his hardest to curb his irritation away from other people and things beyond his control. He was far from perfect, and he gave himself some leniency when dealing with his Aunt and Uncle, but overall he thought he was handling it well. He was going as far as to avoid Dudley whenever possible, which wasn't as difficult as he thought it would be.

On Sunday, he was sitting at his desk, dressed in another comfortable pair of pyjamas, light blue this time, after showering and eating a light breakfast, waiting on his blood results. According to the healer, the results would show if he was healthy enough to receive the treatment that day. He laughed at the irony that they were checking to see if he was healthy enough to get a poison injected to him, which in turn makes him sick, so it can try to cure a completely different illness.

He was reading through one of the books Snape had left for him to help keep him busy. It was an American muggle book, To Kill a Mockingbird, questioning where Snape would have come across a book like this. Either way, it was nothing like he assumed it would be based on the title, but gave him something different to read besides his school books and he was getting pretty interested in it along the way.

He looked up from his book when he heard a tapping on his window. Unlike last week's chemo, today was a beautiful day making Harry more irritated for not only having to stay inside, but that he would likely be in bed - or the loo - most of the day. A spark of happiness raced through him when he looked to the window and saw Hedwig tapping on the glass.

"Hedwig," he exclaimed, opening the window to let her in. He allowed the window to sit open a little longer than he should have just to feel the morning breeze. The snowy owl held out her leg for Harry to take the letter. As expected, it was from Ron. Harry's heart started racing knowing this was likely a reaction to his best friend learning about the leukemia. He reached into the desk to pull out an owl treat for Hedwig, still unsure if he wanted to read the letter now, when Healer Smithe and Snape walked in.

"You... have... an owl," Healer Smithe said surprised.

"Yes sir," Harry answered, "this is Hedwig. She's been at my friend's house."

Harry could tell by the sympathetic look in the healer's eyes that was not a good thing.

"I'm sorry Harry," the healer said, "but Hedwig will need to go to Severus's room from now on."

"Wait," Harry felt like he was losing a friend, "I can't even see her?"

This time it was Snape that responded, "We talked about keeping your surroundings as clean as possible. Unfortunately your owl is counterproductive to that endeavor."

Harry looked at Hedwig wondering if she would go with either man. As if reading his mind, Healer Smithe held out his arm in front of Hedwig.

"Go on girl," Harry urged her. "You'll have to stay in the guest room until I can finish this letter back."

Reluctantly, Hedwig stepped onto the offered arm and was led out of the room. Harry once again felt very alone.

"Alton said your blood counts are holding steady," Snape got right down to business. "He'll start the antiemetic once he's back in."

Harry nodded, still fingering the letter in his hand.

"From your friends? Mr. Weasley, no doubt?"

"Yeah," Harry mumbled. "I'm a little nervous to open it. Do you think that's normal?"

"Absolutely," Snape sat on the edge of the bed.

"Ron hasn't always had the best reaction to startling news," Harry admitted. "Who knows how he'll react to this."

"I'm sure his mother made him wait before writing to you and likely read it before she allowed him to send it. She wouldn't let him upset you in such a state," Harry didn't know that Snape was concerned for this exact scenario and had spoken about it at length with Molly when he'd told her the news on Friday.

"I think I'll wait to read it," Harry placed the letter on top of his desk.

"Please don't delay too long," Snape said amused, "after all, your owl is my roommate until you reply."

"I'll work on that today," Harry said to which Snape simply nodded.

Within 15 minutes, Harry was hooked up to the antiemetic medicine through his port. Without anything else to do, he picked up To Kill a Mockingbird when there was a knock on his door. At this point, Snape usually just walked into the room, Harry's privacy seemingly abandoned by his 3rd or 4th trip to sick up in the loo last week.

"Come in," he tentatively said, more curious than anything about who would be knocking at his door.

He was more surprised than he should have been when Dudley walked in.

"Oh Merlin," Harry complained.

"Who's Merlin?" Dudley asked, staring warily at the I.V. stand and tubing running from it to Harry's chest; through his buttoned down pyjama shirt.

"He's a wizard... nevermind," Harry shook his head, "what are you doing in here?"

"Can I, y'know, come in?"

Harry took a deep breath. Dudley never asked his permission for anything and technically still considered this room his second bedroom, so Harry didn't see why he bothered asking.

"Sure," Harry stood up off the armchair and gestured for Dudley to take it as he pulled his IV stand so he could lay on the bed. "What do you want?"

"Uh," Dudley stuttered.

"Eloquent as always I see," Harry smirked. He couldn't pass up the chance to throw that out. It would have been better if Snape were in the room to hear it though.

"Hey!" Dudley looked offended. "I wanted to check after our last talk."

"It's fine Dudley," Harry didn't like being backed against a corner and yet that's how he felt right now. Instead, he turned to look out the window feeling envious of the neighborhood kids allowed to go outside.

Somehow Dudley managed to pick up on Harry's look because he said, "You can't go outside."

It wasn't a question, but Harry answered anyway, "No I can't. Apparently this whole process makes me more likely to get sick from germs. And then if that doesn't kill me the psychopathic dark wizard after me will."

He saw a look pass by his cousin's face. Harry refused to believe it was pity. He couldn't handle Dudley Dursley's pity. Luckily they were interrupted by Snape and Healer Smithe coming back in.

"Ok, you should be ready to move onto the good stuff," the healer said. Harry wanted to disagree, the antiemetic was the good stuff.

Snape was watching Dudley gauging what Harry's reaction would be to his cousin's presence.

"And I'll have more later this week?" Harry asked, ignoring the other 2 occupants in the room.

"That's right," the healer added while changing out the lines for his first chemo medication. "We're adding a new medication which will be given Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday for the next three weeks."

"Also in the port?" Harry asked looking away as the needle was pressed into his chest. While the numbing agent made sure he didn't feel the prick, he didn't like looking at it as it went in.

"Yes that's correct."

"Great," Harry couldn't have made that sound any more sarcastic. "And I'm guessing I'll feel the same way afterwards?"

"More or less," Harry could tell he was being intentionally vague, "they pretty much all work the same way. This one may also make you feel feverish."

Harry just looked at the healer. What else could he say, the alternative was dying and he didn't want that, especially not before defeating Voldemort, so that's pretty much it.

"How's your pain level been?" Healer Smithe asked after the drip was set up and running.

Harry thought hard on how to answer that question. It wasn't in his nature to complain. "I don't know. The prescription strength tablets work much better than the Paracetamol lately, but even those aren't lasting as long as they used to."

Snape added, "He hasn't been given the Paracetamol since Wednesday. It just wasn't working."

Healer Smithe bent down into his bag and pulled out a bottle. He handed it to Snape, "If it gets unmanageable, and you'll know when that happens, the Morphine should help."

Snape examined the bottle, shook his head in agreement and walked out presumably to put that with Harry's other medications.

"I'll be back to swap the bags in a bit," Healer Smithe was packing up while talking and placed the dreaded pail next to Harry's bed, "just sit back and try to relax."

"Sure thing sir," Harry replied as the adults all left the room leaving only him and Dudley.

"What's this?" Dudley asked, picking up Harry's old potions textbook.

 _This should be interesting_.

"It's one of my text books from school," Harry tried to keep from smirking, waiting for the scream to inevitably leave Dudley's mouth when he realized he touched something magical. "It's actually the subject that Professor Snape teaches."

"Potions? What is Potions?" Dudley was flipping through the book.

"Erm... I guess it's like muggle chemistry," having never taken chemistry in his muggle primary school, for obvious reasons, it was only a guess.

"Your professor is a bit terrifying. Is he like that in class?"

"Oh, he's much worse in class," Harry almost laughed. "We have a complicated history."

Dudley looked up at his pale cousin, "I wouldn't have guessed that."

Now Harry's interest had peaked, "Really? Why do you think that?"

Dudley placed the book down, "None of my professors would step in like yours did and help with my medical problems."

Harry didn't doubt that, but Dudley's never been one to elicit any warm and fuzzy feelings for anyone either. Not only that, he had two adoring parents to take care of any of his needs. When he really thought about it, Harry wouldn't want to end up like Dudley; where it took the death of a classmate to open his eyes to the type of life he's lived.

"It's kind of his job," Harry waved off the comment.

"You're not in school, so it's really not his responsibility."

There was no way Harry was going to get into the responsibility of the Order. In the end, he knew Snape was only stepping up because the Order needed to keep him safe. He had a job to do and until Voldemort was gone for good, they'd do anything to protect him. It was a saddening thought when he dwelled on it for too long.

"It's complicated, Dudley. It's nothing like that," Harry's heart was pounding as his breathing increased. "Hey Dudley," Harry started, "can you hand me..."

Luckily Dudley understood what his cousin was asking for and handed Harry the pail just in time for him to vomit inside it instead of on the floor. Dudley was uncomfortable as if he were intruding on a personal moment. Of course, it wasn't personal for long as midway through Harry's heaving, the healer and potions professor walked in.

Hearing the retching, Snape approached the bed. Harry felt the bed dip down as the dry heaves were finally ending. Handing Harry a glass of water, he pointed his wand into the bucket to vanish the sick away. Dudley's eyes went wide.

"Time to swap bags," the healer was already moving the bags around on the stand. Harry leaned against his pillows giving the man full access to the port site. Looking to his right, Dudley was watching everything they did.

"So, why can't you use magic to make this disappear?" Harry expected his cousin to have an exceedingly stupid question, but this was actually a logical one.

"Cancer is pretty rare in the wizarding world, so we don't have much to treat it," Harry explained since Snape and the healer were discussing some aspect of his treatment amongst themselves.

"How did you get it then?" Dudley asked. Harry didn't want to think about this question, but couldn't blame his cousin for asking.

"I dunno," he answered honestly. "Does it really matter?"

"I guess not," Dudley answered and picked up the potions book again. Snape was watching him flip through the text.

"Something interest you?" Snape asked when Dudley stopped on a page to read.

"This says it's a 'Be-fun-del-la-ment draught', " Dudley looked up at the professor. "What does that do?"

"The Befuddlement Draught," the Potions Master slowly corrected watching Harry as he was looking more nauseated by the second, "when brewed correctly, will cause the drinker to become reckless."

Dudley looked both terrified and amazed at the same time. "Why would someone make that?"

This time Snape didn't patronize the boy with a response. Instead, he focused on Harry who was leaning against his pillows with a grimace of pain on his closed eyes.

Harry was listening to Dudley's insane questions. Why was he even here? He doesn't care what happens to Harry or about his school anyway. What he wouldn't give to be anywhere else right now, even sitting in potions class.

_Ok, maybe that's too far._

In order to avoid this awful conversation, he feigned sleep. He had no doubt that Snape likely knew he wasn't actually sleeping, and silently thanked the man for not calling him out on it. Once he felt the line removed from his port, the healer bid Snape goodbye promising to be back on Tuesday to start the new medication, and he heard the door close, he silently laid there listening to the sound of his uneven breathing. He heard a rustling sound near his desk and inwardly moaned. He wasn't alone like he'd hoped.

"What are you doing here?"

The sound paused, "I thought I'd wait for you to wake up," Dudley explained. "Just in case you need anything."

Harry was feeling suffocated. How did he go from not a single person in #4 Privet Drive giving a damn about him to now feeling suffocated by them?

"Ok, Dudley. I give up," Harry sat up carefully, "what is it that you want?"

Dudley appeared to be thinking hard about this subject, "I feel bad."

"So this is about helping ease your guilt?" Harry couldn't keep the anger and resentment out of his voice.

"No!" Dudley yelled. "It's not like that. After all those counselor meetings at school... I found that I actually liked talking to them. It helped me sort some of the things going through my mind. And after those dementy things last summer, there was a lot to think about."

Harry listened while staring at his bare feet dangling off the edge of his bed. At this point it would almost be better to cut his losses and just forget about why Dudley wanted to talk things through, if nothing else, than to hurry this process along.

"They said I should talk to you about it. Since you still live here." Dudley added.

"Only one and a half summers left and I'll be free," Harry mumbled to himself. He raised his head and met Dudley's eyes. "Dudley, we're not going to be friends. That broom has left, so to say."

"I know that," Dudley had regret written across his face and Harry realized what Snape had meant by Harry wearing his emotions on his face. Dudley was extremely easy to read. "I just want to help you now."

Too tired to argue, Harry asked, "Can you hand me that letter?" He pointed to the parchment Hedwig delivered this morning. He might as well read it now.

Dudley picked it up like it might have been poisoned, "Who's it from?"

Harry resisted the urge to tell him it wasn't any of his business. "I'm guessing my best friend Ron," Harry glared at Dudley threatening him to question Harry having friends. "My owl was at his house."

Harry took the letter from his cousin.

"What's that on your hand?" Dudley asked as Harry's right hand reached to grab the letter.

Harry looked down and saw the familiar scar, _I must not tell lies_.

"It's complicated," Harry put the letter under his pillow and covered his right hand with his left.

His cousin didn't say anything for about a minute, then he challenged, "You say that a lot... That's it's complicated"

Something about that statement broke a dam of emotion within Harry that he'd been trying his hardest to hold back. He refused to cry in front of his cousin, so he clenched his jaw closed to hold it in as best he could.

"My life is complicated and if you can't see that, I can't even start to explain it to you." He never could understand why Ron was so jealous of him. He'd give all his fame and fortune to live like Ron - not being targeted for things beyond his control, having a family that cared about him, not having the fate of the wizarding world on his shoulders, not having everyone around him dying, not fighting an invisible disease within his blood. Harry felt defeated in every way possible.

"Obviously I know about your parents and the cancer, but did you do that to yourself?," Dudley asked, gesturing to Harry's hand.

"Oh, you know about my parents? Do you though?," Harry raised his voice trying to sort through his thoughts. "Did you know my parents were murdered because some dark wizard wanted to kill _me_? That the last thing they ever did was die to protect me? And now that same wizard is back and actively trying to kill me? That's why professor Snape is here. He's tasked with protecting me from that wizard until I'm good enough to finally kill him, nothing more."

He knew Dudley had heard that his parents had not died in a car crash like he had been told, but there's only so much a kid at that age could comprehend. Harry had barely been able to understand what had happened besides his parents died heroically saving him and not drunks.

"And for the record... this," Harry lifted his hand for emphasis, "was done _to_ me, got it? Now leave," he finally yelled and threw the first thing he could reach, his pillow, for good measure. "Leave NOW!"

~~~~SS~~~~

It was just after 2am when Severus felt the distinct buzzing from the sphere he kept on him that alerts him when Harry needed help. It had been a trying day, at best, as his thoughts cleared to the previous day's events.

He had no one to blame but himself for Harry's mood after leaving Dudley alone with him. In his old reality, Dudley and Harry had eventually reconciled and he, probably incorrectly, assumed that was the natural progression taking place here. Of course, Harry had several extra significant years with the Dursley's that he didn't have in the old reality, so that was bound to have an impact on it all. Either way, as the day lingered, he was getting a larger migraine from it all.

After the Dudley conflict, Harry had slept until mid-evening, mostly due to the increased morphine that Alton had prescribed. This gave some much needed time for Severus to catch up on work and rest. Unfortunately once Harry was awake, the time was spent with back and forth trips from the lavatory to playing chess or muggle cards in his bedroom.

Severus was getting concerned with how Harry was going to handle the mid-week chemo that was being added for the next 3 weeks because his body used that time the previous round to recover. Without that break, he wasn't sure how Harry would maintain his fluid and calorie intake. Even after all his research, he didn't expect the process to be this difficult. He doubted that had they done this in his other reality, it would be this challenging. Here, in addition to keeping up with Harry's care, he was also balancing the Dark Lord, the Order, and keeping Harry's relatives in line. It was too much.

He didn't need to look at the sphere to know he would find Harry back in the lavatory, wondering how long the teen had waited before finally calling him. Wrapping his black sleeping robe around himself, Severus walked out into the hall just as Vernon was coming from the lavatory.

"Does he have to do this at all hours of the day and night? All I ever hear anymore is the doors slamming," Vernon whined as he waddled past the professor. "Some of us actually have to work around here and need some peace and quiet!"

This time Severus couldn't resist the urge and used all his strength to grab the oversized man and slammed him into the wall. A picture frame hanging on his right of a three-person family out on a beach, Dudley looking about 8 years old and Harry clearly missing, trembled and fell from the impact. Severus didn't even blink when he heard the glass shatter across the floor.

"I'll have you know Dursley that there are things I'm more than capable of doing that would go completely unnoticed by your muggle authorities. Trust me, you do not want to test me on this," he brought his face so he was nose-to-nose with the man. "I don't even want to see you breathing towards that boy in there, understood?"

Vernon's face turned purple, both from anger and lack of oxygen due to Severus's arm across his large throat.

"I know your rules, you can't do your freaky things on _normal_ people."

Severus tightened his grip, "It's really a shame sometimes, however never did I mention anything about using magic."

Vernon's eyes went wide when the implications made it through his idiotic brain. With one last shove into the wall, Severus let go of the man and said, "Now get out of my face," before continuing down the hallway.

He knocked once on the lavatory door and then looked in. Harry was shivering on the floor clearly in pain. He was paler - if that was even possible - and his emerald eyes were dull and sunken in, clearly not the healthy, defiant teenager from only a month ago, or even a couple days ago.

"S- sorry professor." His shoulders were slumped with his head held in his hands.

"It's nothing," Severus opened the medicine cabinet to pull out several bottles looking for the right one; it was time for his morphine dose. He summoned a glass and the ginger ale before kneeling in front of the young Gryffindor. "Here, this should help."

"Yeah," Harry sounded exhausted, but took the glass, "thank you."

Severus watched Harry take the medication wishing he could do something more; wishing he could comfort not only the boy who still felt like his son, but also the teenager who thought he was all alone in this life. The Potions Master grabbed a hand towel, dampened it, and placed it on the back of Harry's neck. They both sat on the floor against the bathtub, side-by-side, feet extended out in front of them.

"I think every time I come to the bathroom, it wakes Uncle Vernon up," Harry said through the shivers. "Don't see how, his room is on the other end of the house."

Severus took off his black sleeping robe and draped it across Harry's shoulders. "Don't think twice about him."

"H-hard not to s-sir," Harry stuttered, "he's been here yelling ev'ry time I'm in here."

The professor had to use his strong occlumency shields to keep his calm. Harry didn't need him throwing a fit right now.

As the minutes ticked away, Severus could tell Harry was relaxing into sleep. The young wizard was breathing deeply and leaned over to rest against Severus's arm, but no sooner did Harry's head touch his shoulder, he lurched up and was heaving into the loo. Severus kneeled up and placed his hand on Harry's shoulders to help support him upright. Once that round was done, he helped Harry stand so he could rinse his mouth again.

"Think you can get back into bed?" Severus asked. "You'll be infinitely more comfortable there and we can play another round of chess if you don't feel like sleeping." It was something he spent a lot of nights doing with _his Harry_ in that last month. He shook his head side-to-side to clear those thoughts.

Harry just nodded, pulling the black robe tightly around him. Walking slowly out of the lavatory, making sure Harry didn't stumble, they made it back into the bedroom. Harry climbed into bed carefully and Severus pulled out the chess board peeking a look at the clock - 2:45 am - he would probably need to go back to his quarters to replenish his invigoration drafts.

They played with a companionable silence between them, neither fully focusing on the game.

"Professor McGonagall tells me you want to be an Auror," Severus brought up casually.

Harry smiled, "Yeah, I'm hoping so."

"Any reason why you think you won't? From what I hear, that group you taught last year was quite impressive." That was another difference Severus noticed with the different realities, without Umbridge as a defense professor Harry didn't need to run the defense association.

Harry flushed a little at the offhand compliment. "Oh, well thanks. I didn't realize news of that spread."

"Most of the professors knew and secretly supported your efforts. I also heard the members are expected to do above average in their defense O.W.L.s," he paused. "So I can only guess your hesitation is on your potions marks." It was a risky subject to bring up as they've typically stayed in neutral territory.

"Erm, that's probably the biggest factor...yeah," Harry was nervous. "But I can't do much else at this point until I get my marks back. I think I did better than I expected, I just don't know if it was _Outstanding_ enough." Harry was examining the move Severus just did; it was obvious he wasn't too involved in the game.

"That's a very mature way to think about it," Severus frowned at Harry's rookie move.

"I've got plenty of other things I can be worrying about right now," Harry yawned at the end of that sentence. "At this rate, I might not be alive to do it anyway."

He looked at Harry trying to think of something to say. Everything always seemed worse in the middle of the night and he had no idea what to tell the boy in front of him.

"I know," Harry finally said, "I shouldn't dwell in self-pity."

"Very good advice," Severus complimented himself. "You'll get there, I promise you."

"Sure," Harry said with a blanket of sadness in his voice.

"Let's call it a night. You look about ready to sleep."

Severus started to pack the game up while Harry laid down in his bed and rolled onto his side.

"Sleep well Harry," he said as he got up, removed Harry's glasses and placed them on the desk. He took the sphere out of his pyjama pocket and placed it next to the glasses. His eyes caught a glimpse of the clock - 3:47 am - it would be dawn too soon.

"G'night professor," Harry sleepily replied. "Thank you."

"You needn't thank me Harry," he said quietly as he closed the door.

* * *

The Potion Master was happy that Harry slept until almost quarter to eleven, only waking shortly once to take his medications around seven that morning.

The only requirement Severus had for Harry during all of this was he needed to be downstairs for mealtimes, but he was more lenient after chemo days. Harry needed to get as much rest as he could get.

Severus was sitting at the desk in his room, clearly avoiding the Dursley's as much as possible, when there was a knock on his door. Grabbing his wand out of habit, he stood and slowly went to the door, cracking it open.

"Harry," he released his breath seeing the young wizard standing in front of him. Harry had showered, as was evident by his messy, still wet hair. He had also changed out of the pyjamas and into a pair of lounge pants and an oversized grey shirt.

"What can I do for you?" the professor asked, stepping out of his room into the hallway. Hedwig was back from hunting, so Harry could not enter the room until it had been fully cleaned.

Harry handed a letter to him, "Can you ask Hedwig to send this to Ron?"

"Of course," Severus replied. He looked at the letter then added, "You didn't mention my staying here, correct?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "No sir. I know better than to do something like that; besides Ron would flip out. I don't need that right now."

Severus nodded, then leaned back into the room to place the letter on the bed as a reminder to send it later.

"Are you hungry?" he asked Harry as they walked downstairs. He stopped Harry before he could inevitably say he wasn't, "I thought about trying a smoothie for lunch. The liquids seem to sit better on your stomach than the solids. Muggles have powders we can add to make them more nutritionally sound."

Harry flushed at the offer, "It's worth a try, professor. The worst that can happen is I sick it up anyway."

By the time they made it downstairs, Dudley was sitting at the table and Petunia was making lunch. Harry looked over at Severus to see the man's reaction. He appeared more smug than normal at the sight of his aunt.

"Hello Tuney," he called her that just to make her angry.

"Finally awake I see," she said to Harry, completely ignoring Severus. "Too many lie in's I'd say. It's bad for someone like you."

Harry had a confused look on his face, but just sat at the table across from Dudley.

"Morning Dudley," Harry said.

Severus was listening to Harry and his cousin, interested to hear where the conversation was headed, as he collected the ingredients he would be using for the smoothie. Severus wished he could take credit for the idea, but Alton had stopped by that morning to check in on Harry and had suggested it as a very common food for chemotherapy patients.

"Mornin' Harry," Dudley said, ignoring his mother's stern eyes to the use of his given name. "You missed breakfast earlier."

"I was sleeping," Harry spoke into the table since he'd placed his head onto it. "Besides, I wasn't hungry."

The next several minutes were silent until Severus placed the glass next to Harry. He tapped the teen's shoulder, "Here, give this a try."

"Thanks," Harry met the professor's dark eyes, his green pleading for some relief.

Harry took the first small sip, when Severus felt the familiar burning sensation in his left forearm. He covered it with his right hand.

_It's the middle of the day for Merlin's sake!_

Harry placed his hand over the professor's that was covering the mark, clearly having heard the small hiss of pain. An internal debate flooded Severus's mind

"Professor, you have to go," Harry said sympathetically. "I'll be fine, I really will this time."

Thinking quickly, Severus took out his wand and summoned Harry's sphere. He said several incantations, then handed it to Harry, "If you need anything, this will now alert the Headmaster."

After sending a quick patronus to Albus and summoning his Death Eater robes and mask, he walked out of the house. Passing the anti-apparation wards, he then left to be at his other master's side.


	13. A Moment of Weakness

Severus landed in front of the iron gates of a large manor, fixing his mask firmly in place. Entering the lavish meeting room, which he was sure used to be the formal dining room, he immediately took his spot in the circle relieved to see he was not the last to arrive. Too many times he's had to explain why he was last after enduring the Cruciatus.

He was stealthily watching his fellow death eaters. Even though he'd assured Albus his cover was still intact, getting summoned 3 times in just over a week with no idea what was being planned alarmed him greatly. It appeared like the other members were equally as confused; most of them having left work suddenly to be by Voldemort's side.

The Dark Lord walked confidently into the room. He looked over his servants before taking his seat in the chair on the raised dais in the center of his death eaters.

"My faithful servants," the dark wizard hissed at them. "It is almost time and I must make sure we are ready. I will not have the boy escape me this time."

Severus conspicuously peered around the room yet again, only Crabe and Goyle did not nod at this statement. He did not like to be grouped with those two imbeciles. Not wanting to give away his lack of knowledge, he listened for any hidden messages the Dark Lord wasn't saying between his sentences.

"Wormtail!"

The skittish, lumpy man practically crawled up to him.

"Yes m'lord?" Wormtail kneeled before the snake-like wizard kissing the hem of his robes.

"Update, Wormtail."

Those 2 words echoed across the vast room sending a chill down Severus's spine.

"I've breached the subject and it's in place, m'lord, for T-Thursday," Wormtail was clearly nervous with his update, which did not surprise Severus one bit. That man was nervous over any little thing.

"Thank you Wormtail. I expect no issues along the way, " Voldemort said dismissing the man in front of him.

"Yaxley," the blonde death eater stepped forward and bowed, "the watch?"

"The closest we've been able to go is 3 houses down," Yaxley stated. "From there we can see the older man, his uncle, leaving at 8:15 every morning and returning at 6:30 in the evening. We've tailed him and can confirm he's not in touch with the Order and has little to do with the boy at all.

"The cousin comes and goes as he pleases, but the older woman, his Aunt, is mostly in all day. Potter hasn't left the house once; not even to the gardens. He's likely been given strict orders not to leave and will need to be _coaxed_ out," Yaxley waited after hearing the Dark Lord hiss in anger. It was becoming obvious they wanted Harry to mistakenly leave the wards. In his opinion, this was a foolish plan and had he been taking lead on it they would not place all their eggs in this proverbial basket.

"There's more my Lord," Yaxley continued. "There have been 2 men that have visited the house on several occasions. The first is a registered healer with a private muggle practice. He works mostly out of a local hospital in Surrey and has both magical and muggle patients. He had no known ties to the Order."

"Do you know if he's treating the aunt? Or perhaps our boy is ill?" Voldemort questioned with a small smile.

"We cannot be sure, but he's visited the house at least 4 times in the last week. It seems excessive even for a muggle illness. Plus with Potter not having left the house it's highly probable he's the patient in question," Yaxley explained.

Voldemort was deep in thought over the debacle.

"And the other man?" he asked, tabling the healer thoughts.

"I was able to identify him as Charles Evans," Yaxley said. Severus held back a flinch at his other identity being revealed. They knew it was more than a possibility that he would be seen around the house. "He's a muggle relative to Potter's aunt. He appears to be staying with them for an indeterminate amount of time."

The professor almost reacted; that was death eater language for "I have no idea how long."

"Thank you Yaxley," Voldemort dismissed the Death Eater with a wave of his hand. "Severus."

The Potions Master walked up taking the space where Yaxley had just vacated.

"Yes my Lord?" he asked, kneeling in front of his master.

"Does the Order have any knowledge of Potter being ill?"

"No, my Lord," Severus lied, placing every occlumency shield he could up in his mind. "I'll question more thoroughly at my next meeting with Dumbledore."

"You do that Severus," Voldemort stated, "Any plans to move the boy?"

"None yet sir," Severus didn't need to lie this time. Given whatever plans were being discussed, there was no way they would move him away from the wards. "Dumbledore has not said how long he's to reside at his relatives' house to keep the wards at their strongest. Shall I suggest the need to relocate him prior to the weekend?"

The Dark Lord paced in front of Severus taking into consideration this request.

"That shall not be necessary Severus," came the reply from above the spy's head. "In time, the opportunity will present itself and I feel we will do better to catch the Order and the boy... Off guard."

Severus didn't like the sound of that. It could be that he was a bit paranoid, but the Dark Lord's words sounded like he didn't trust Severus and that could not end well.

"Yes, my Lord," Severus replied. He got up, back to his spot in line and listened to the preparations being made to contain Harry Potter in the dungeons directly below his feet.

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry was sitting up in his bed trying to work on his summer Charms homework, when there was a knock on his door. The sun was setting, leaving a bright orange sky through his window. Snape still hadn't returned and he assumed whoever was knocking was his newly assigned "babysitter" until he was back.

"Come in," his voice strained from the combination of lack of use and sore from the vomiting.

"Hey Harry," he heard his cousin's voice as the door cracked open.

He groaned, "What's up Dudley?"

Dudley apparently took that as an invitation into the room. He walked in, closing the door behind, with a handful of board games.

"I thought maybe you could use a distraction... Since you're stuck in here all day," Dudley placed the games on the ground and held up Monopoly.

Harry closed his book and put the notepad on the desk. He wasn't sure what Dudley's plan was for this, but he was far too tired to care.

"Fine, Monopoly it is," Harry said, sitting up further on the bed, opening the game to start setting it up.

The two boys sat in an awkward silence as they started to play. Harry had not played many board games in his life, but Monopoly he at least recognized, even if Dudley had to explain the rules to him. The concept was strange and he thought that this type of stuff - business things - should probably be taught in the wizarding world.

"Do you play any sports at school?" Dudley asked randomly.

Harry frowned, Quidditch was another thing that was questionable for him. After his ban from Umbridge, he would give just about anything to get back on the pitch, but he doubted he'd play again at least this year.

"Yeah," Harry finally answered, "I play a game called Quidditch. It's kind of like football, but played while flying on a broom." Harry hoped that would deter any further questions.

"What position do you play?" Apparently he'd been wrong.

"Erm, I'm the seeker. It's my job to find a little flying ball before the other team's seeker does," Harry cringed knowing he wasn't explaining it properly.

"Sounds cool," Dudley replied, focusing again on the board game in front of him. "Do you play other magic schools?"

Harry turned his head considering the question he was asked.

"No, we compete against each other really," it sounded odd to say it aloud. "We're separated into different groups... We call them houses... In our first year and the houses compete against each other. We did have a competition against the other schools 2 years ago, but only 1 student from each school competed and they didn't play Quidditch."

Harry really didn't want to get into the triwizard tournament, but deep down it felt good to talk to someone who wasn't part of the school about it all. If Dudley was angry or scared about any of it, he did a good job hiding because to Harry he seemed legitimately interested.

As it started to get dark and the game went on, the two cousins fell into casual and neutral conversations. They talked about everything from classes at their respective schools, Harry's friends, muggle football, and their plans after they're done with school. Harry was surprised to hear Dudley recently decided he wanted to join the British Army after Smeltings. He found it intriguing that they had picked careers so alike for having such different upbringings. This had to be the first time he's ever enjoyed Dudley's company and it hurt to think that this was a glimpse of what life could have been like had he not been a wizard. What life with a brother could have been like; he was envious of Ron all over again.

"Are you hungry?" Dudley asked midway through their game.

"Not really," Harry said looking at the clock with a shiver, "I need to take my evening meds though."

"I can grab them for you," Dudley offered. "You look a little sore."

Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. It was one thing for Dudley to want to get to know more about him and another to physically help him out. He was definitely feeling the pain coming back though.

"Thanks, but I have to use the loo anyway."

"D'you feel sick," Dudley said quickly, grabbing for the pail besides the bed.

Harry laughed, "No Dudley... I just have to pee. If you'd like, we can take a little break and then continue the game?"

"I'd like that," Dudley's face lit up at the olive branch Harry was offering and if Harry was honest, he felt the same way even if he was still unsure of it.

~~~~SS~~~~

"...a real dragon?!"

"Erm...hot I guess..."

"...got to be kidding me?!"

Severus could hear bits and pieces of the conversation coming from Harry's room when he finally made it back to Privet Drive. He was nervous when he saw Harry's window still illuminated from the front garden, but it seemed he was having a friendly conversation with his cousin about the first task of the triwizard tournament.

Since everything seemed alright for the time being, he continued down the hall to the guest room. Entering in, he deposited his death eater robes and mask in the bottom of the wardrobe. On the bed was the letter Harry had written to Ron, but went unsent, and now Hedwig was back out hunting. That seemed like days ago instead of only 12 hours. He'd have to send it first thing in the morning.

As usual, he'd gone to update Albus about his summons and due to the nature of his report, an emergency Order meeting was called immediately afterwards. There had been some debate over if Harry should be moved immediately or stay put. Severus couldn't deny that moving him now could foil any plans the Dark Lord had, but it could equally play right into them. In the end, Albus decided that leaving Harry in the wards was the safest place for him and they would increase their watch on the house through Thursday night.

After splashing some water on his face and getting into more comfortable clothes, he went to go check on Harry. He could still hear the boys talking loudly and he wondered what his aunt and uncle must think hearing it too; luckily they seemed to be asleep.

He heard a soft, "come in" after he knocked.

Harry was sitting up in bed already dressed in a pair of emerald green pyjamas, and Dudley was sitting in the armchair also dressed in his bedclothes. He conjured a chair for himself finally admitting that he was exhausted, to which Dudley didn't even flinch.

"Everything ok sir? You were gone a long time," Harry sounded worried and had looked at the clock - 11:34 PM - as he asked.

"I am fine," the potions professor replied, "I had to meet with the headmaster and his group which held me up longer than expected."

"Prof-" Harry was interrupted by Severus's raised hand.

"There's nothing you need to concern yourself with at the moment," he said watching the two boys closely. "How are you feeling? Did you take your evening medicine?"

"I'm fine," Harry was looking away when he'd said it causing Severus not to believe him. "Yes, I took my medicine. I just... couldn't sleep right now, so I've been telling Dudley about dragons."

Severus turned and eyed Dudley. Neither boy appeared to be upset, so he was not going to get involved at this time. Maybe things could finally settle down between them and it would be one more thing to help make Harry feel more comfortable in this house.

"Alton will be here at 9am tomorrow. If you need me-," Severus held up the sphere and placed it back on the desk.

As he was closing the door, he heard Dudley say, "I told you-" but he closed it before he could hear the end wanting to maintain Harry's trust and privacy for however long he could.

* * *

While Harry hadn't had much experience with Chemotherapy so far, only three days of it, he absolutely hated the new medication. His body was given no time to recover before the next day's started, which meant that between the pain and vomiting, he'd barely been able to move from his bed both Tuesday and Wednesday, the only times being to visit the loo.

Dudley tried to spend time with Harry whenever he could to help out, however he learned to wait until Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were gone or asleep. Tuesday evening, Uncle Vernon caught Dudley walking into Harry's room and came crashing in as if the young wizard was holding his cousin hostage. His uncle completely pushed past Dursley, ignoring his son's protests, and practically ripped Harry from his bed by his arm. Harry will never know how Dudley managed to run fast enough to get Snape before he was too seriously hurt, but he was extremely grateful for his cousin. He wasn't sure how Snape handled his uncle, but he knew a silencing spell had to be used because it was oddly silent on the other side of his bedroom door. Later that night, Harry found a set of bruises on his arm from his uncle's hand. Snape had said how important it was to report any abnormal bruising because of his lower platelet count, but Harry figured it wasn't abnormal because he knew how he'd received it.

To make the week worse, he knew something was going on with Voldemort. Not only was his scar constantly tingling in pain, but Snape had been in and out of the house all week for both Voldemort and Dumbledore. Two weeks ago, he would have been happy to have the man gone so often, but now he just wanted the little consistency his potions professor provided. Dudley never complained about stepping in to help out when Snape was gone, no matter what time of day, and Harry finally stopped looking at him suspiciously. He was happy to have the distraction because whatever was going on, Snape wasn't giving him an ounce of information.

By the time of his last chemo for the week on Thursday, his whole body was in almost constant pain. It had been an extremely long week and he didn't know how he was going to manage the next two weeks of this. Yesterday, Healer Smithe finally added morphine to his regimen directly after each chemo when the pain started to feel like he was under a constant Cruciatus curse and the tablets were no longer working. It didn't last all day, but it helped get a little relief.

"Harry?"

There was a quiet knock on the other side of the lavatory door. Harry had finally decided a bath was needed regardless of how much his body was hurting. Knowing he'd feel the best before starting the chemo, he'd gotten up early and, grudgingly, with Snape's help made it into the warm bathtub.

He was now standing over the mirror looking at himself in both shock and horror. He knew he'd likely lost some weight, but wasn't prepared for how skeletal he was now. Even with his strange eating habits he thought he had to be eating more now than any previous summer at the Dursleys, but you'd never know it. His cheeks were sunken in and pale, his eyes no longer their bright emerald green instead dull in color, but the biggest change, and one he'd been trying his hardest not to focus on, was the small patches of his messy black hair that were now clearly thinning. Yesterday, when he woke up at some point during the day, he had seen the first strands of hair left on his pillow case. Based on how it looked in the mirror, he'd guess it had started earlier this week, but he hadn't noticed and no one mentioned it to him. That last part made him angry inside. It was like everyone was walking on eggshells around him. He lifted his hand and carded it through his hair, looking down at the strands that were left between his fingers.

"Harry?" he heard Snape call again as the door cracked open.

To avoid getting hit by the door in the small lavatory, Harry sat on the closed loo staring at the strands of hair in his hands.

Snape tentatively walked over and kneeled in front of him, a look of pain on his face.

"It will grow back once this is all over," he said, placing his hand on Harry's right knee.

"I know," the teen said sadly, "doesn't make it any easier to see."

"No, unfortunately it doesn't."

A deafening silence engulfed the room. Harry could hear the beating of his heart in his ears.

"We can shave it," Snape finally broke the silence, "if you'd like. It might make the inevitable feel a bit more comfortable if you have some control over it."

"Maybe," Harry shrugged, "I'll think about it."

Snape squeezed Harry's shoulder. Harry knew this week had been difficult for the professor too. On more than one occasion, he'd woken up to the sight of his professor asleep in the chair next to his bed. Snape probably slept there more than his bed in the guest room.

"Let's get you back. This week is almost over and then you'll be able to recover the next two days."

Once he was back in bed and seriously thinking about falling back to sleep, his door was opened.

"Good morning Harry," Healer Smithe said, walking into Harry's room with the last chemo bag of the week. Harry glared over to the man. "Ready for the last one?"

"Until we start back over again on Sunday," Harry was having a difficult time staying positive lately, but he didn't want to talk to anyone about it. Surely any normal almost-16-year-old would have a difficult time coping and Harry was far from normal before all this started. It felt justifiable to be upset.

"You're doing great Harry," the healer said sympathetically as he hooked up the bag. "I know it's hard, but you're handling it very well."

_I doubt he knows what this feels like._

Harry just nodded and closed his eyes again trying to pretend he was anywhere else besides here. Those thoughts lead him back to Hogwarts. He opened his eyes knowing Snape would be sitting in the armchair. Sure enough, the man was sitting there and appeared to be deep in thought as he looked out the window.

"Sir?"

Snape shook his head like he was clearing it out before meeting Harry's eyes.

"Erm," Harry nervously started, "what's going to happen when it's time to go back to school?"

Harry had been holding onto hope that he would get to start classes as normal, but this week had proven otherwise. Now he was just hoping he'd get to go back at all.

"A lot will depend on if remission is reached after this round or if another induction round is required," Snape carefully said. "Either way, with your lower immune system, you'll not be staying in the tower, at least to start. The Headmaster is looking into other arrangements for your housing in the castle."

Harry had assumed so, but hearing it out loud didn't help his mood one bit.

"What about classes?"

"You'll likely have individualized lessons for at least most of the first term," this time the professor gave a small sigh. "The details haven't been worked out yet, but there are regulations in the Hogwarts Code of Conduct for such allowances in the case of disability or illness. I'll make sure the Board of Governors follow it and you get the allowances you're entitled to."

A warm feeling spread through Harry's chest. No one had ever made sure he was being treated fairly and taken care of.

By late afternoon, Harry questioned if something serious was going on. All week, Snape had been in and out of the house mostly for either Order meetings or Death Eater summons, but today the man hadn't left Harry's side. He also seemed to be in high alert looking out the window more often than was necessary. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't left much capacity to think about what that was before he plummeted back into chemotherapy hell.

When evening rolled around Harry knew something was up, Snape wouldn't let Harry leave the room, even to go to the loo to sick up, which the young wizard always preferred to the pail. He eventually refused to let anyone into the room, including Dudley who up until this point had been Snape's unofficial assistant. Snape left only to get a smoothie for Harry's dinner and a bag of his medications and then said neither of them were leaving the room for the remainder of the night. Harry tried not to think about what would happen if he needed to pee.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus was relieved when Harry eventually fell asleep. It was difficult for the teen to get any kind of consistent rest, so it was a relief whenever he could sleep. When the sun set, he strategically left the lights out to prevent any potential watch guards from easily seeing inside. This left the only light in the room coming from the street lights through the window. The spy was planning to stay up as much as possible throughout the night so he could be ready should anything arise. Tonight was the night the Dark Lord had discussed with them all week and he wasn't willing to risk a surprise attack while he was asleep.

When Harry woke up again the clock read 12:24 AM, which was far less sleep than Severus would have hoped for him. He could hear the painful breaths coming from Harry's bed; they still had a long night ahead of them.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on? And don't say nothing, I can clearly see there's something wrong," Harry accused with less patience than normal.

"It's nothing you need to be concerned with right now," Severus replied knowing full well he was lying. "How are you feeling?"

Harry was silent for so long, Severus thought maybe he had fallen back asleep. Finally he saw the teen reach for the lamp on the desk to get some light. Severus quickly grabbed him by the hand.

"Don't... turn on the light," Snape warned in a low voice.

"Fine. I'm guessing you can't tell me why either, but I'm supposed to believe nothing is going on."

"You didn't answer me," the professor tried again ignoring Harry's accusation, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling tired of people asking me that," Harry mumbled angrily, "I'm feeling tired of being locked in my room, and I'm feeling tired of being sick for days on end."

 _There it is_. Severus thought to himself.

As if on cue, he heard some rustling and then Harry vomiting, luckily into the pail. He sat down on the bed, his insides knotted up, and pressed his hand against Harry's lower back. How much more could this young man endure? With any luck, he could at least prevent any attempts to lure the Boy-Who-Lived away from the protective wards tonight.

When the dry heaves were long gone, they both sat up against the pillows, side by side yet again. Harry slowly leaned over to rest against Severus's left side in complete exhaustion, both physically and mentally. After a second's hesitation, Severus lifted his arm and draped it across the back of Harry's shoulders. If anyone who didn't know the two of them walked in, it would look as if this was completely natural. Harry's shaky breath started to even out.

"Can I ask you a question professor?" He sounded completely defeated.

"Of course," Severus had assumed the young wizard was sleeping otherwise he wouldn't be sitting in this position.

"Why?" Harry's voice gave away the pleading behind the question.

The Potions Master thought hard, but wasn't following where Gryffindor was going with the question, "I don't understand."

"You've been different," Harry closed his eyes. "There have been a bunch of little things I've noticed. Even back at school, you acted differently."

Severus could blame it on lack of sleep, though he's used to running off little sleep this was crossing a line even for him; he could blame it on the pleading voice of the young man who has lived through more than any grown adult ever should; he could even claim he wanted to just stop the need to keep up the exhausting charade. In the end though, he knew it was none of that... in the end he wanted to tell Harry the truth to try to ease his own suffering; he wanted his child back and he couldn't keep it hidden any longer.

"That's because I am different," he finally said after what felt like an eternity.

Harry sat up suddenly, likely thoughts of polyjuice and Confundus Charms going through his head.

"Who are you?" The panic was thick in Harry's voice.

In one swift movement, the fastest he'd moved in a week, Harry grabbed his holly wand off the desk and turned on the lamp. Severus didn't need Legilimency to see the memory flash in teen's mind; when the professor first showed up in the bathroom during the nosebleed incident, did Harry verify his identity?

Severus didn't pull his wand to try and ease Harry's despair. He thought back through this reality's memories to find something only the two of them would know. It wasn't nearly as easy as it would have been back in his old reality.

"Your remedial potions lessons were a cover up for occlumency training," he finally settled on.

Harry was thinking back if anyone else would have known about their lessons. Hermione and Ron knew, which brought about another panic attack. What if something happened to them?

Against his better judgement, Harry closed his eyes and asked, "What happened at the last lesson?"

Severus took a deep breath to hold back anger, no idea where the anger was stemming from inside him. Yes, that was one of his worst memories, but it was also one he'd discussed at length with _his Harry_.

"You looked into my pensieve. The scene you saw was from my 5th year, after my defense O.W.L. when your father and his friends hexed me by the lake," he slowed down recognizing he was speaking almost too fast to sound in control of the situation. "It was the day I called your mother... I called Lily a... mudblood. I threw a jar of cockroaches at you afterwards."

Harry opened his eyes, "What is going on then?"

"I don't know how to explain it to you and even if I did, you likely wouldn't believe it," Severus answered honestly.

"Try me," the boy in front of him challenged, "I've seen a lot of strange things happen."

Severus contemplated what and how much to tell. He didn't want to scare Harry away from whatever little trust they've managed to build up to this point.

"I'm waiting," Harry impatiently said holding his wand back up.

"Last month I woke up with memories of events that no longer happened," Severus made sure to maintain eye contact so Harry would not think he was lying. "I woke up as a different version of myself, leading a very different life than when I went to sleep the night prior."

Harry creased his eyebrows in confusion. Things like what was being described don't exist; people don't just wake up in a new life.

"How did that happen?"

"In this other life something devastating occurred," he carefully explained, "and the Albus Dumbledore there gave me the chance to fix it. I shouldn't have done it, but in a moment of weakness I took the opportunity he presented and woke up here."

That was the simplest way to explain the convoluted event.

"That's not possible," Harry was staring almost through him.

Taking out his wand, Severus created a small ball of light that he set to float between them.

"Harry, we need to turn off the lights," he explained peering over to the window. "We can absolutely continue this conversation, but not like this."

Harry nodded, reached over to the lamp and aggressively clicked off the light.

"So, I'm just supposed to believe that you're from some other time or something?"

"I don't think physically," Severus thought back to the post-cruciatus shaking when he first woke up in this reality. No, physically he was the same here. "It's more like I lived a previous life, woke up in this one, but have memories from both."

"That sounds confusing," Harry said sarcastically, but willing to play along for the time being. "Did it work? Did whatever you wanted to change actually change?"

This time, Severus couldn't maintain eye contact and peered out the window.

"Technically yes," he answered; Harry _had_ chosen the different treatment option. "How it will all play out, I'm yet to know."

"Assuming I believe you, which is a stretch, did you ever think that maybe things are just fate and you shouldn't mess with them?"

"Like using a time turner to save-" Severus couldn't shut his mouth fast enough; he wasn't supposed to know that event. Harry would just assume he didn't want to talk about his Godfather after their last conversation, but it was too close for comfort.

"Finally figured that one out did you? That was different," Harry sneered.

"It was very much the same thing."

Professor and student sat in silence with the small ball of light flickering between them. Neither of them knew where to go from here.

"Was Voldemort still there? In your other life? I'd love pointers on how to finally kill off the bastard."

"Language," Severus reprimanded, "and no the Dark Lord hadn't yet returned."

He could see a look of pain pass through the Gryffindor's eyes; imagining a life without the threat of the darkest wizard hanging over him.

"So you weren't a spy there?"

Severus knew the child was curious, which meant he believed some part of what the professor was saying, but he was swimming too close to a line he shouldn't cross.

"I was," he cautiously explained. "Everything from the first war happened as it did here, the Dark Lord just hadn't been able to get his body back."

"Then my name wasn't called out of the Goblet of Fire?"

Severus gave a small chuckle, "Oh no, it definitely was pulled from that damn goblet, but you didn't compete after the first task."

Harry's eyes almost bulged right out of his head. "How did I get out of that?!"

"A well sought after loophole." Severus was quite proud of himself for that one, if only he'd thought about it early enough so Harry hadn't needed to fight the dragon.

"Well, that all sounds like an upgrade to me, can't imagine why you'd want to come here," it came out a little to whiney, but he didn't care.

"First, I didn't get to choose where I ended up," Severus felt ridiculous explaining it all, "second, I lost something that was more important than the Dark Lord returning."

Harry couldn't miss the grief that filled the response. What would be worth having Voldemort back? His friends, yes. His parents, definitely. But his professor didn't have friends and he didn't want to think of the man's parents, so what _did_ he have to lose?

"So, you think that gave you the right to screw over my life to fix yours?"

How could Severus argue against that? From _this Harry's_ point of view, that's exactly what it looked like. The clock read 2:43 AM, still a while until dawn; when he could assume that whatever lure Voldemort was planning hadn't happened as expected.

"So what did you lose?" He heard a small, weak voice ask; Harry's steam having settled greatly.

"Not what... whom."

That was something Harry was very familiar with, he'd lost a lot of people in his young life. So instead of jumping in, he sat back and quietly waited for his professor to continue.

"My son," Severus finally said almost in a trance, "from the same cancer you have."

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry sat in silence. A soft rain had started and he listened to the hypnotic drizzle hitting the roof above his head. He remembered the conversation they'd had about the boy with cancer Snape had known. He was from this other life. He'd tried the magical treatment. He died.

_What are the odds?_

Cancer is rare in the wizarding world; Healer Smithe explained it to him at that first appointment. Harry was confused, something was missing in this story. Something was definitely off about it, but he couldn't think straight right now.

"It's the boy you were talking about last week," he didn't expect an answer, but Snape nodded anyway. "But where is he now? In this life?"

He didn't need the light back on to see the cold stare from Snape's obsidian eyes. The man was deeply bothered by that question. If he was supposed to change something, then where was this boy? Maybe in this life, the boy just never existed. He'd be bloody angry if he'd risked changing realities only to find out what you wanted to fix was gone. In the back of his mind he was putting together connections without consciously realizing it.

"How old was he?" He decided to change tactics; his need for information greater than his self-preservation. Nothing new there.

"Your age when he was diagnosed and he died less than a year later. He was just shy of 17," Snape said far away in a memory and Harry felt like an intruder listening to the man, "We were going to spend the summer at the beach because he absolutely loved the sea more than anywhere else. It was going to be a celebration of both his cancer remission and coming of age. I even had a new pocket watch picked out for him for his birthday.

"I would have given anything to switch places with him... I wish I would have known how quickly those 4 years would go by, how much could happen in that short time."

"Um, sir? Why only 4 years?" Now Harry was thoroughly confused.

Snape looked at Harry like he hadn't expected him to be sitting there, "I guess it was technically 5 years since he lived with me for almost a year before everything was official."

There was a pregnant pause and noticing Harry's still confused look Snape added, "He was adopted... on the 5th of March, 1993... you were twelve."


	14. The Fall Out

Harry unceremoniously fell straight off the bed and flat on his face with a loud _umpf._

_What did he just say?!_

When he stood up, Snape was cradling his head in his hands. Harry thought something had to be seriously wrong for the man to look so vulnerable.

"No that can't be... Did you say-" Harry started but was interrupted a second later.

"Yes."

With that one word his world came crashing down. It was almost as bad as hearing Leukemia for the first time. He started trembling as he sat back onto his bed. This couldn't be right. In what world would he allow _Snape_ to adopt him? The man who hates him and has made his last 5 years at school a living hell.

"Wait," Harry thought of something, "you said your... Erm, I... um, was almost 17. That's not possible."

Snape lifted his head to meet Harry's eyes and the teen couldn't help thinking yet again how exhausted he appeared. This man _looked_ like he had lived two different lifetimes; and suddenly all the little things started to connect in his mind.

"It was 1997 in my old reality; mid-May to be exact."

"And we were... I mean, I was..." He couldn't bring himself to say it even if he had no choice but to believe it. There was no other explanation for why Snape - the acerbic Potions Professor _Severus Snape_ \- would have done everything he had these last couple of weeks otherwise.

This time, Snape didn't have to confirm it. His face said enough. In wherever Snape had come from, he had been Snape's son.

"This is insane you know," Harry managed to yell in a whisper. "So you knew all along? About the cancer?"

The professor took another deep breath. Harry saw him peek at the clock, 3:26 AM; why did it always seem like these conversations always happened in the middle of the night?

"I did," Snape admitted. "Which is why I was so insistent you see a healer."

_Great, now he's lecturing me._

How could this have happened? Why was it always him that had these rare occurrences - surviving the killing curse, speaking parseltongue, getting muggle cancer, why not add being part of a time/reality change with Snape? What did it really matter anyway; they were in this life where he hated Snape.

_But that's not really true anymore, is it?_

He thought back to the last couple of weeks again. Yes, he could honestly say he didn't hate Snape anymore. Though he didn't really like him that much either at the moment; he felt deeply betrayed by the man. The professor had played him this whole time, waiting for the right time to...

All of a sudden a burning question sprang to his mind.

"Did I live with the Dursleys?" he blurted out as if the answer were the air he needed to breathe. "You said everything was the same in the first wizarding war and obviously my parents died otherwise you wouldn't have been able to... you know... so then did I live with the Dursleys?"

Snape was struggling with the answer, which told Harry everything he needed to know. If he'd been with Snape since before 2nd year, then he had likely been removed from the Dursley's care.

"What about the blood wards? Dumbledore said I _have_ to live here, think of it as my home, because of blood protection from my mum. How did you get around that?" His stomach was knotted up like it was tied around a rock; sitting there in the middle of his core waiting to drag him down.

"He simply wasn't given a choice in the matter. I was not about to let you come back here to these people." In the dim light, Harry could see a look of disgust on Snape's face as he said the last two words. So he knew back there and he knows now. And just like that the rock in his stomach plummeted and anger filled him up instead.

Actually, to say Harry was angry would be an understatement, he was furious. The way his mind oversimplified it, because he happened to live in the world with the arsehole version of Snape, he was left to live with his neglectful relatives and battle Voldemort time and time again. He could feel the start of tears creeping up from the edges of his eyes. He swiped them away before Snape could see. Was it possible for someone to grieve a life they'd never lived in?

"Get out" Harry said, his voice bitter and full of hurt. "I don't want you in this house anymore. I don't want you anywhere near me anymore."

"Harry-" Snape tried to say and Harry ignored the grief the professor couldn't hide.

"No!" Harry yelled picking up the sphere he used to call Snape when he was sick and threw it at his bedroom door. "Get. Out. Now!"

Snape reluctantly stood up, and Harry couldn't look the man in the eyes. How could he feel so empty and numb, but full of raw emotion at the same time?

"As you wish," the Potions Master said, opening the door to leave. He looked back over his shoulder before he left and added, "Someone from the Order will be here tomorrow to stay with you."

Just like that, the door closed and Harry was once again truly alone. This time he didn't stop the tears from falling.

* * *

After staying up until the sun started to rise, Harry slept until well after lunchtime. He missed his morning medications and both breakfast and lunch. He woke up with a migraine, nauseous, and pain throughout his body that radiated down into his bones. Looking through his window, the rain that started early that morning hadn't stopped. In fact, it was now raining so hard he could only guess it would continue to rain the rest of the day. He thought about just staying in bed, but in the end his bladder won out and he got up to use the loo.

He couldn't see anyone from the hallway, but he could hear Aunt Petunia mumbling gleefully in her bedroom. The door to the guest room was closed and a wave of sadness washed through Harry. He couldn't muster the courage to see if Snape was still there.

_Some Gryffindor I am._

Instead, he continued to the next door into the lavatory. He could use a shower, but his body was in too much pain to even attempt one. After brushing his teeth and splashing some water on his face, he grabbed his medicine bottles trying to remember which he was supposed to take, counting as he pulled them out - steroid, antibiotic, antiviral, pain reliever, vitamin, antiemetic. Using the glass next to the sink, he filled it and took each one carefully.

Next he needed to try to eat something since he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. He walked slowly down the stairs, a little embarrassed to still be in the pyjamas from yesterday, and was relieved to see only Dudley in the sitting room watching the telly.

"Morning Harry," Dudley called to him, "or I guess afternoon."

Harry nodded and passed him into the kitchen. Looking through the refrigerator, nothing seemed appetizing so he settled on a banana from the counter. He then unceremoniously plopped himself into a chair at the table.

"Everything ok?" Dudley asked sitting down across from Harry.

"Why?"

His cousin was nervously wringing his hands, "Your professor left in a hurry this morning."

Harry's heart plummeted to his stomach. Of course, for the first time ever Snape actually listened to him and left.

"Well he probably won't be around here anymore." When he saw Dudley's skeptical look he added, "Don't worry, someone else will be coming to stay in his place. Was he angry?"

"Yeah, he seemed it. Sorry."

Instead of answering, he just laid his head on the table willing it to stop aching. He could hear his aunt's shrilling voice talking as she was coming down the stairs; her high heeled shoes click-clacking with each step.

"Oh Diddy! He did it!"

Her voice grew louder when she entered the kitchen. Harry groaned from his headache pounding with her voice.

"He got the Ryan account!"

That was the client Uncle Vernon had been working on closing for the last two weeks. At least his uncle couldn't blame a single thing on Harry and his "freakiness", which was the only good thing about Uncle Vernon doing well at work - Harry was only blamed for the bad stuff that happened.

"We're going out to celebrate with them tonight," she continued completely ignoring Harry. "Will you be ok here? Maybe you can ask Piers to come over? I'll order some pizzas."

Dudley peered over at his cousin, "Pizza sounds great Mum, but I think I'll just hang out alone tonight."

"Anything you want my baby."

Harry snorted from the table; he couldn't keep that one in.

"Enough from you," she spat at him. Harry didn't even have the energy to open his eyes at her. "You just stay in your room where you belong."

"Not a problem there Aunt Petunia."

Once his aunt left to go buy a new dress - because all of hers just wouldn't do - Dudley placed his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Don't worry Harry, I'll hang out with you tonight."

"Thanks." Harry lifted his head and went back up to his room.

Harry was surprised that no one had come to replace Snape at the house. He kept expecting Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, or even Mad-Eye Moody to knock and announce themselves as his new chemo-babysitter. He still hadn't gained the courage to go into the guest room; seeing it cleared out would only cause more pain inside of him. He managed to convince himself the only reason he cared that Snape was gone was because without another wizard in the house, how long would his relatives continue to leave him be?

He heard Uncle Vernon get home at half past six that evening, as usual, his normal grumbling replaced with elated banter about his latest deal. Harry was relieved when the man didn't even try to open his door. Less than an hour later, he heard the car driving away to take his aunt and uncle to celebrate the deal with the Ryan's. Harry watched the car drive off and continued to watch the rain pouring down thinking that it was perfect weather to match his miserable mood.

As promised, Dudley came into his room shortly after Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia departed, which at this point had almost become their routine. This time, his cousin also brought in the telly from his bedroom along with the VCR and a handful of movies. He left briefly and came back with a smoothie Harry knew had to be freshly made.

"Want some pizza too? I can bring you a plate from downstairs," Dudley asked sitting in the chair at the desk.

"No, s'ok. Thanks for this."

"I thought we could watch a movie. It might give you something else to focus on then homework and... well, everything that's going on," while Dudley was getting more comfortable with Harry's illness, but he didn't really like talking about it out loud.

"Sounds good Dudley. You pick; there's no movies in the wizarding world," Harry gestured to the pile of movies on the desk.

"Seriously?!" Harry laughed for a brief second as his cousin continued, "How about Shawshank Redemption? Mum doesn't like me watching it, which of course makes it one my favorites."

He handed the movie case to Harry who read through the back. He normally wasn't allowed to watch anything, regardless of the content, but the fact that Aunt Petunia didn't like it was a good enough reason for him to want to see it.

"That's perfect," Harry said leaning back against his pillows when the movie started.

Every so often, the room would flash with lightning and a little while later he'd hear the crashing of thunder. As a kid, Harry always loved thunderstorms and he'd never admit it, but those were the times he loved laying in his cupboard. Everything sounded distant from the middle of the house, so he would imagine the clouds rolling in a field with thunder in the background and it would almost instantly relax him. Tonight though, laying on the bed next to the window, the sound was anything but relaxing.

It was almost 11pm when the movie ended, but Harry had barely been able to pay attention. Not only was he sure he'd fallen asleep at least once in the middle, his scar had a constant aching feel. Every so often, the pain would get bad enough that he would press it against the cold window just to help get some relief.

"Why does your scar hurt," Dudley had asked him when he'd had a spike of pain so bad they had to pause the movie.

"Remember that dark wizard I told you about? Sometimes I can feel when he's angry or happy...it comes through this," he pointed to the scar.

"So... He's angry now?"

"Something like that," was all Harry replied and then they went back to finish the movie in almost silence.

"Shouldn't your parents be home by now?" Harry asked. The last thing he needed today was to be accused of stealing the telly from Dudley's room by Uncle Vernon.

"They never mentioned when they'd be home. Probably doing some good celebrating."

Harry's breathing rapidly increased as he had a flashback to the conversation with Snape the night before -

**_We were going to spend the summer at the beach because he absolutely loved the sea more than anywhere else. It was going to be a celebration of both his cancer remission and coming of age. I even had a new pocket watch picked out for him for his birthday._ **

He'd never been to a beach. The Dursley's never took him when they'd go on holiday in the summer. Apparently not only had Snape taken him in this _other life_ , but he knew the _other Harry_ loved the sea.

_I bet I'd love it too. If the cancer doesn't..._

No he wouldn't go there, but it was getting harder to stay positive today about beating the cancer and Voldemort. It was like finding out about this other, better life had sucked everything from him, much like a dementor.

Dudley was still talking, but Harry hadn't heard a word the other boy said or even noticed he was talking until he stopped mid sentence.

"Everything ok Dudley?"

Dudley shook his head, "I thought I heard something."

Harry sat still listening for anything that might sound out of place.

"Maybe thunder?" He suggested having heard a small booming noise from his window...

O _r was it a cracking noise?_

He tried to look outside the window, but couldn't see a thing because of the heavy rain pouring down.

Before either boy could move, the window burst open spraying glass over Harry's face and arms once he'd moved them to block. Rain whipped into the room through the broken window. Instinct took over and Harry reached for his wand beside him.

"Go!" He yelled at his cousin, "stay in your room!"

The house started trembling as what had to be close to two dozen flashes of colored lights were steaming in through the broken window hitting the ceiling and walls trying to connect with one of the teenagers in the room. Harry ducked Dudley down as chunks started to fall upon them. At this rate, it wouldn't be long before it collapsed down completely. Harry quickly wondered if that was how they planned to get through the wards, by knocking the house down. He didn't have time to think about that though.

"We have to get out of here!" He yelled towards Dudley who was being much calmer than Harry would have ever expected.

"C'mon," Dudley grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him across the room to the door.

As Harry was crawling across the floor trying to avoid the curses and hexes coming through the window, a large beam came crashing down onto him. His wand was knocked out of his hand.

"Arrrrggg," he screamed in agony, his legs now pinned under the ceiling beam. Dudley's grasp was pulled away from his arm.

He searched around for his wand only finding the sphere he threw after his argument with Snape. He squeezed it tightly willing the man to know how desperately he was needed back on Privet Drive. His heart broke when nothing happened... No light was emitted from the sphere as it had when he previously used it.

"Dudley, go to your room and hide! It's me they're after. If you're quiet, they won't even look for you," the young wizard lied. They'd kill Dudley the first chance they got.

To Dudley's credit, he argued that he didn't want to leave Harry alone. Only after reassuring his cousin that his Headmaster would know the moment the wards had fallen and would be here any second did Dudley leave.

Harry could hear his heart beating in his ears louder than the crashing coming from around the room and outside. There was still rain coming in from the window and now through the ceiling above his head, soaking him from head to toe. He was shivering, but strangely didn't feel cold at all.

He laid his head down trying to hide beneath the debris pinning him to the floor and could hear quick steps coming from the floor below him. The Death Eaters made it inside the house. If the Order didn't get here soon, it was only a matter of time before they'd get to him. Where was the watch that was supposed to be outside his home? Silently, he hoped no one was hurt when the attack started.

The sound of thick footsteps climbing the stairs could be heard and he'd never tell a soul that he closed his eyes in fear of being discovered. Then, what sounded like a duel was happening outside his door. Someone was out there for him!

Loud blasts could be heard from all around him - outside his window, on the other side of his door, from the floor beneath him. With each loud blast, the walls and ceiling would start to crumble some more.

Then one big _BOOM_ , an explosion from the bathroom that shared a wall with his bedroom, opened the wall allowing the Death Eater access to his bedroom. It also was the last piece supporting the ceiling above him and the rest of the ceiling fell into the room completely covering Harry.

He couldn't hear anything; not any of the battle that was going around the room, not his heart beating, not his labored breathing. His glasses were broken, leaving his vision blurry in one eye. He could only see reflections of red, green, orange, and yellow on the wall he was facing. His body felt broken and he would give anything for it to stop.

He couldn't tell how much time had elapsed, but his adrenaline was running out and he just wanted to go to sleep. The last thoughts he had before the black seeped in around him was that he hoped someone would be able to find him under everything.

~~~~SS~~~~

This was his fault; he shouldn't have left without notifying the Order. He was summoned first thing that morning and spent the day at the Dark Lord's side making what he now knew were last minute arrangements for the attack and then working on menial tasks. He'd have to answer to the Order for his lack of contact, something he was not looking forward to doing.

Severus had been up for over 2 days straight and he wasn't about to leave until they found Harry. The house had been practically demolished by the death eater attack. Albus was outside reinforcing the house so it didn't completely collapse before they could get Harry out and setting up new wards so they could work without any further attacks.

"Harry." Severus called walking into the bedroom he was all too familiar with. It looked nothing like the room he'd been in the previous night. "Damnit!"

"Severus," he turned to find Lupin standing in the doorway. His eyes went wide as he looked at what was left of the room. "What happened?"

"I don't have time to go through it all. Who knows how long this house will stay up."

"Is he in here?"

"Dolohov never made it in and the idiot who blew up the wall blew up half of his body in the process, so he has to be here. No one else could have gotten to him."

The two wizards started levitating pieces of furniture, drywall, and wooden beams out of the way. Two small fires were immediately put out with a quick _Aguamenti_.

"What are the odds he survived this?" Lupin asked in a dark tone that made Severus nervous and angry at the same time.

"He's stronger than you'd think," Severus replied as Albus came into view.

"Kingley's finishing up the wards and we've done the best we could on the structure," the headmaster explained, holding his illuminated wand out in front of him. "In any case, we should work fast."

They were working mostly in silence when another person came to the door.

"We found his cousin," Tonks said, her hair now a fiery red. "He's in the room across from this one. Alive, but totally knocked out. Can't tell if it's from a stray hex or debris. Can we get some help moving him?"

Lupin nodded and walked out of the room to assist. It was strange for Severus to see them separately as in his other reality, they had already been a couple for some time at this point and got married the fall before Harry had died.

"The bed was over there," Severus said pointing towards the window that had been repaired. They started carefully vanishing debris away, mindful that at any moment removing the wrong piece in the wrong order could be disastrous.

"Severus," the older wizard said, "I don't doubt that had you been in a position to alert us of the attack, you would have."

"I should have known something was wrong when nothing happened yesterday," the Potions Master explained, angry with himself. "I was going to report into you, but I was summoned this morning."

"Where does this leave you now?"

He looked over at the man that was the closest thing he ever had to a father, Severus hated to disappoint him.

He shook his head, "I duelled Dolohov in front of Harry's bedroom. There's no good way to recover from that...it leaves me useless to the Order now."

Albus paused, blue eyes full of empathy meeting angry black ones.

"In time, you'll see your true worth my boy. Just have some patience."

Severus didn't believe the old wizard one bit. He finally made it into the room and saw the sphere roll out from a pile of debris. Harry had to physically squeeze it to activate, so he had to be close.

"I found something!" He called to the headmaster, holding up the sphere. "Harry!"

He continued to call out to the missing teen, worry filling his voice when each call went unanswered.

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry heard someone calling to him; or calling for him. It sounded like he was at the bottom of a lake and the person calling was outside of it. He heard his name, but couldn't make out anything else from the muffled words. He wanted to call out to whoever it was looking for him. They sounded scared or angry. On second thought, maybe he wanted to stay hidden. He could feel something above him shifting and a white light was shining in from somewhere.

"He's here!"

Harry felt a wave of relief pass through him. He tried to call out but it was only a whisper. His throat was dry and coated with dust and his chest hurt every time he drew in a breath.

 _I must be dying_ was the only thought crowding his mind. He would never get to apologize to Snape for what he'd said, say goodbye to his friends, or have a serious conversation with Remus over his guilt for killing Sirius. He always figured Voldemort would eventually kill him at some point; however this wasn't how he'd thought it would go.

The young Gryffindor was still conscious when finally his face was freed from the rubble. His vision was still too blurry to make out any details around him. All he saw was a blurry figure with long dark hair. Instantly, he felt calmer than he'd been all day. Maybe there was still hope he'd get out alive.

"...hear me?"

Harry shook his head back and forth. Everytime this person moved the pieces from the ceiling covering him, a sharp pain raced through his body so intense he saw white throughout his vision.

"Harry!"

There it was yelling at him again. This wasn't his fault, he didn't blow up the house. His uncle was going to be furious with him. Maybe he should have run away before they got home.

"Harry! Can you hear me?"

He furrowed his brows. "Yes," he managed to say, but wasn't sure it would be loud enough to hear.

"We're going to get you out," the voice said in a less panicked tone.

_I guess I was loud enough after all._

"Just stay still while we get the rest of your free. We have some more help coming"

_Definitely not going anywhere._

"Severus," the Headmaster said, "keep him talking."

By now, he was aware of at least three other bodies around him working on getting him out. His chest was now free, but after sitting in the rain on the flooded floor, he was convulsively shivering. The people around him must have noticed because a warm cloak was laid over him. He instantly relaxed, feeling it's warmth spread throughout him to his core as only a good heating charm can do, and it had a distinctly familiar smell of spices; maybe cloves?

"Is that better Harry?" The voice, Harry finally figured out had to belong to Snape, asked him.

" Y-y-es," he stuttered wondering why he was still shaking if he was no longer cold. "M'tired."

"I need you to stay awake Harry," Snape was kneeling on the side of Harry's head. Every so often he would look down towards Harry's lower body and then Harry would feel pain as the remnants were being moved. "You'll get plenty of time for that once we get you to Hogwarts."

"M'sorry s-sir," Harry mumbled.

"We needn't discuss that now."

"I shouldn't've told you t'leave," he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to stay awake. "I wanna hear more 'bout all that... Y'know."

Even if his glasses weren't broken, he couldn't focus enough to see Snape's reaction. What he did hear was another familiar voice that filled him with calm.

"How're doing Harry?," the kind voice of Healer Smithe was next to his ear.

"Alive," it wasn't funny but Harry didn't care at the moment.

"Celebrate the little things, that's what I always say," the healer joked. "We've almost got you cleared out of there and once we get you back to Hogwarts you'll start feeling loads better."

Harry doubted that, but nodded anyway.

"I need to run a diagnostic scan," he continued. "It's to see if there's anything that needs to be fixed immediately before we can move you."

"Like what?" Harry asked not sure he wanted the answer. If he was in this much pain, he could only imagine what was causing it.

"I'm sure it's nothing." Harry didn't miss the deflection of his question.

" 'k... do what you need to do." He felt the tingle of the diagnostic spell go through him. "Anything exciting?"

"You're doing great," Snape answered this time and again Harry didn't miss the deflection of his question.

Healer Smithe and Snape were standing, turned away from Harry, likely discussing his condition. He was very tired of getting into these situations.

"Professor?" Harry asked as he felt a significant amount of weight lift off his waist. "I was thinking about what you said yesterday... morning," he added at the last second.

Snape kneeled back down, "Which part?"

"I think I want to just shave my head. Think it'll be cold?" He hadn't really put too much thought beyond their discussion yesterday morning, but he figured it didn't really matter in the long run.

"I'll get you some hats or beanies, but I think that's a smart idea," Snape placed his hand on Harry's shoulder trying to ignore the wince of pain the young teen gave.

"How bad is it?" Harry gestured over his body. "You never sugar coat anything, so don't start now."

"To use your words, you're alive and right now that's all that matters."

Harry didn't like how that sounded. He heard someone yell from the other side of the ceiling debris by his feet.

"Harry," Snape said looking him intently into his green eyes, "they're getting ready to move the last piece. I need you to listen carefully... A lot of things will be happening at once. The beam is likely holding in some of the bleeding which will start again once that beam is lifted. Understand?"

Harry nodded that he understood. He worried his bottom lip holding back his fear when Healer Smithe placed a solid muggle wrap around his neck, telling him it was to protect him without using magic when they could finally move him.

"Shacklebolt, Lupin, and Professor Dumbledore will be lifting the last beam; as soon as it's safely off of you, Healer Smithe will wrap the damage and then I'll port key you straight to the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey is already waiting for us. All I need you to do is try your best to stay awake," Snape said all that with an authoritative voice that not only had Harry nodding again, but received verbal confirmation from all the others involved around him.

"On the count of three," Kingsley Shacklebolt called out. "One... Two... Three."

Just like Snape described, everything happened at once. Harry felt a tingling pain down his legs which he hadn't realized had been completely numb before, Healer Smithe practically crawled under the wooden beam with with rolls of muggle cotton wrap and started feverishly wrapping his right leg, and Harry did his part with staying awake although he'd much prefer sleeping to avoid the pain. He couldn't hold back his yell and tears when it felt like he was literally getting ripped in half.

He could feel Snape lift his upper body onto his lap and a cold sweat was running down his forehead. Harry reached out and Snape grabbed his hand as the teenager squeezed down as hard as he could.

"They're almost done Harry," Snape said quietly into Harry's ear. "You're doing great, but if you fall asleep you'll be in detention every day for the first month of term."

Harry tried to chuckle, but it was more of a groan, "Oh sure, those are always the worst cauldrons to clean."

"Exactly. _Don't_ fall asleep."

It felt like an eternity before he heard Healer Smithe say he was ready to be moved. He started to tremble all over his body even while wrapped in the charmed cloak. This was from a combination of fear and pain, not the cold.

"It's ok Harry," Healer Smithe said, "Severus will get you to Hogwarts. I'm heading there now to get Poppy ready."

Harry couldn't say a word even if his life depended on it, so stayed silent watching his healer port key back to his school.

"Ready?" Snape asked. "Don't worry about staying awake for the port key, I've got you and when you wake up, you'll be feeling much better."

Harry thought those were the best words he'd ever heard, especially coming from Snape. He closed his eyes as a crushed water bottle was placed in his left hand and he felt the familiar hook behind his navel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter officially starts what I call Part 2 and I hope you all enjoy where it's going to take you! I took a recommendation and added in flashback scenes starting in part 2. You'll know it's a flashback because it's italicized and in ~AU SS~ point of view. They'll be tied to what was going on in the story, so they'll jump around the AU timeline.


	15. A New Place to Stay

~~~~AU SS~~~

_Severus woke up that morning far earlier than he needed to and blamed it on wanting to be as prepared as possible, but in reality he was simply too nervous to sleep. They filed all the right paperwork, went through over half a dozen interviews - together, separate, friends and colleagues, anyone the ministry thought they could get away with asking. The Ministry of Magic Department of Children's Services had stopped in unannounced more times than he thought possible; luckily he had completed the renovations at Spinner's End early in the summer holiday - otherwise there was no way he would have allowed Harry to stay there in the first place, even before the thoughts of adoption were in his head._

_They asked him about his career plans, examined his all financial statements, questioned him every which way on why he wanted to adopt the Boy-Who-Lived, and more specifically why they should allow a "supposedly-former" Death Eater to adopt the Boy-Who-Lived. He had no idea what they asked Harry in his private interviews because he respected his, hopefully, future son's privacy and never asked. All that mattered was that after all the grueling work, he was able to circle the 5th of March on his calendar as the day it would all be worth it and that day had finally come._

_He was dressed in a new set of dress robes, appropriately colored black and white and had bought Harry a new set for the occasion. Even though it was a weekday, he had Harry sleep in his room in their dungeon quarters the previous night so the 12-year old had plenty of time to get ready that morning. Both of them had been excused from classes for the day. Severus walked into the kitchen to a table already set for breakfast with a wide assortment of foods and a note next to it all saying:_

**_Best of luck today Severus and Harry._ **

**_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore_ **

_Severus shook his head, but silently thanked his mentor for thinking ahead about such a small detail. He heard Harry's door open, announcing the young Gryffindor awake, and then the start of the shower proving that he was indeed getting ready. Severus poured himself a cup of tea while helping himself to some porridge and fruit from the center of the all the food._

_"Morning Severus," Harry called as he entered the room still trying to tame his black, wild, damp hair, wearing his new set of navy dress robes._

_"Good morning," the professor greeted pouring Harry a glass of pumpkin juice. "Have some breakfast; the Headmaster arranged it."_

_Harry picked up the card, read it quickly, then started making up a plate with eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. When the small boy first lived with Severus, he was underweight even after a year of Hogwarts large and balanced meals. It was a constant battle of how much he should be eating and even now, when Harry was at a much more acceptable weight for his height and age, he sometimes needed prompting to eat._

_"I promise I will only ask you this one more time, though I'm sure you'll get it much more throughout the day," Severus said calmly, "are you sure this is something you want to do? It's not too late to change your mind, but after today it will be permanent."_

_Harry smiled, "Yes Severus. I really want to do this."_

_"Perfect," that was the only word he needed to say to explain all the feelings flowing inside of him, most of which he thought dead long ago._

_As predicted, the day had been long and tiring. Each section of the adoption proceedings had to be reviewed in-depth yet again. And though no one said so and he didn't ask, he guessed the extra measures had more to do with him having the dark mark than Harry being the Boy-Who-Lived. In the end, the recommendation from Albus Dumbledore had been one of his solicitor's best decisions because no matter what objections the Ministry came up with, Albus had previously negated them in the memory shown of him giving his recommendation. It was the first time in the whole process Severus had gotten to see the recommendations they had received from Albus, Minerva, and Pomona. It was also the first time he'd seen the testament of Arabella Figg on Harry's treatment at the Dursleys. By the end, it was the closest he'd ever come to crying besides Lily's death._

_They were both brought back into a large airy office where Severus sat with Harry by his side, and they signed what had to be dozens of documents. Some needed his written signature, where others needed his magical signature as well. Each one was read prior to him signing it by his solicitor and it was all going smoothly until they reached one titled "Petition for Official Name Change of a Magical Child"._

_"Will there be a name change with the adoption?" their case worker, Marie who was an older woman in her 60's with short grey hair and a kind smile, asked directly to Harry._

_Harry furrowed his brows in deep concentration; they had not discussed if Harry would take the Snape surname._

_"Oh... Erm," the young Gryffindor stuttered._

_Noticing his young charge's discomfort, Severus immediately spoke up with, "No, he'll still remain Potter. If that's ok?" The last part was meant for Harry._

_"Yes," Harry said relieved, "thank you."_

_Marie nodded her head and asked Severus to sign one more document. Then with a last wave of Marie's wand over the documents, all the ink dried, the parchment was duplicated into five copies, and then they were rolled and tied. Just like that, it was official; Harry was adopted and he was now Severus's son._

~~~~SS~~~~

Harry had indeed passed out when the port key was activated, which didn't surprise Severus one bit. The teenager had to be completely exhausted both physically and mentally. He was exhausted as well, but running pure on adrenaline at this point that he hardly noticed.

The hospital wing at Hogwarts was surprisingly well lit for being after two o'clock in the morning and Severus was oddly aware of how often he'd seen these early hours of the morning. Madam Pomfrey and Healer Smithe were both waiting by a bed surrounded by an IV stand with several bags hanging when Severus and Harry arrived. The moment he placed the young Gryffindor on the bed, they immediately jumped in. Alton started by connecting Harry's port to a bag of red liquid hanging on the IV stand then proceeded to insert another IV site into the top of his left hand for the others. Poppy was running a diagnostic scan and comparing it to the parchment from the one that was run back at Privet Drive presumably from the healer. Both were working completely synchronized; you'd think they always worked side-by-side together.

Harry started moaning and Severus cautiously approached the bed, scared to reach out to the young wizard not wanting to cause him any more pain. A chair was conjured next to Harry's right side and Seveus met Poppy's eye where she gave an almost imperceptible nod. The professor sat down in the chair and hesitantly took Harry's right hand in his own. As he was running his thumb mindlessly over the top trying to help calm the teen he felt smooth ridges under his fingertip. Confused, he looked down at the thin hand and saw healing scars that clearly said _I must not tell lies_. His heart pulled again trying to imagine why and where these could have come from. Yes, Harry had a rough year with most of the wizarding world thinking he was lying about Voldemort's return, many of whom were fellow students, but how this could have occurred; who did this to him? Images of Harry being held down and having this carved into his had passed through his mind, or worse... Harry sitting alone and doing it to himself. He gently squeezed the Gryffindor's hand; unfortunately, this was at the bottom of all the things to worry about right now, but he resolved to ask him about it later.

Poppy paused with her wand hovering over Harry's body, turned towards Severus and asked, "Severus, you're Harry's medical proxy correct?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"You need to decide how we should proceed with healing him - by magical or muggle means," the matron explained with an urgency in her voice showing how dire the situation was.

He frowned. Yes, he was responsible for making these decisions, but if he was honest with himself he had no idea what Harry in this reality would want. He knew the cancer meant they weren't supposed to use magical healing on him because the extra stress on his medical core could cause the depletion faster, however this seemed like an extreme circumstance where it may do more good than harm. He looked at the frail boy laying on the bed in front of him. For all he knew, Harry would wake up hating him again, but Severus would always do whatever it took not to let him die; he would not fail Harry again.

"Use magic for any potentially life-threatening injuries," he said confidently. "The rest can be treated by muggle means."

Healer Smithe nodded and started to get to work, again working in perfect synchronization with Madam Pomfrey while Severus tried his best to stay out of their way. On the other side of the curtain he could hear Professor Dumbledore speaking with Moody and Lupin and he was already dreading the interrogation he'd be receiving once Harry was stable; he'd made mistakes that would have to own up to. Luckily, Albus was able to convince Moody to hold off on the grounds that as he was Harry's medical proxy, he would be needed to make possibly life saving medical decisions as quickly as possible. No matter how much Moody would take pleasure in interrogating the now-former spy, even he wouldn't do it at the possible expense of The Chosen One.

In the end, Harry's broken ribs and resulting punctured lung, as well as his internal bleeding were healed by spells, potions, and salves. His broken leg was set in a muggle cast, they'd have to wait to see about the concussion, and the cuts from the glass were cleaned and bandaged; what was the most concerning to Healer Smithe was the high fever. Harry had been given a fever reducing potion, but with his lower immune system it wouldn't clear out the infection that could quickly sweep through his body. He was given morphine, a larger range of antibiotics than he was regularly taking, and a wide variety of other medications through his IVs - something about white blood cells and platelets - and now the healers had done all they could for the time being. It was a waiting game for Harry to wake up. Severus carded his hand through the young wizard's wispy hair, ignoring the strands that were left behind between his fingers. He then brushed the thinning fringe that was covering Harry's scar, which was swollen and an angry red color against his pale forehead.

* * *

He knew it was coming, but that still didn't lessen the anger building up in his chest. Albus finally had to agree to let Moody interrogate Severus, but under the requirement that it was done in Madam Pomfrey's office. By doing so, Severus would be able to know the instant should Harry's status change, but it still didn't make the current situation any easier, especially since his adrenaline was now gone and he was completely exhausted. If nothing else, it may prove to be entertaining.

"I find it curious that the date you provided the Order was off by a whole 24 hours," Moody accused.

_As do I._

"I've given you no reason not to trust my intelligence previously," the Potions Master simply explained, "I don't know why Pettigrew reported Thursday. Had it been incorrect, I'm sure I would have heard his punishment."

"Because you were there? What were you doing all day yesterday?"

"I already told you I was." This was anything but a friendly chat. "After the summons meeting, the Dark Lord had me brewing a range of potions. Mostly pepper ups, invigorating draught, fever reducer, pain reliever, and one explosive which had obviously been used on the wall between Harry's room and the next door lavatory."

"Why does he need all those potions," the ex-Auror had always been skeptical of Severus's explanations.

"Since he's not big on gossip, your guess is as good as mine. I'm told what to brew and I do it... No questions asked. Death Eaters learn that last part pretty quickly; or at least the smart ones certainly do, and I like to think of myself in that category." He'd much rather have Shacklebolt or even Tonks questioning him with his current mood; he was a half a minute away from hexing the man in front of him and that definitely wouldn't help himself at all. Albus really should have stepped in to save both men from this antagonistic agony.

"Why weren't you part of the team to retrieve Harry?" That seemed like a stupid question and Severus seriously doubted the man still knew how to properly interrogate someone. He leaned back in his chair to demonstrate how little this process meant to him.

"I had always made it clear to Albus that this was not a mission I was involved in. I invite you to find the Dark Lord and ask him yourself if you're insistent on a reason," the black haired man explained. "Dolohov was running it and I was left to brew."

"You weren't left alone at all?"

"Obviously," Severus slowly answered looking up with disdain in his eyes, "or I would have sent word immediately. Pettigrew was with me almost constantly; plus I didn't even know they were ambushing until after it started."

"So how _did_ you know what was happening?"

This time Severus couldn't hold back the eye roll, "I made Harry a way to contact me when he was sick-"

"That's right-," Moody interrupted placing the sphere on the table, yet again, not hiding his skepticism, "-this thing."

"Yes, that _thing_ ," Severus continued. "Once Harry squeezed it, I was alerted and when the message that came through said "mortal peril", I left immediately.

"When I arrived at Privet Drive, there were Death Eaters sending hexes and curses every which way through his bedroom window and the house had been breached. As a Death Eater, no one gave a second glance at my arrival. Dolohov had just gotten up the stairs when I started to duel him," Severus stopped, looking over at Albus who had just walked into the office.

"If that's all Alastor, I'm sure Severus can use a good night's rest," the headmaster said, finally ending the interrogation. Moody grumbled and shook his head.

 _He left me there long enough_ Severus thought walking back to the chair next to Harry's bed. He quickly transfigured it into one much more comfortable and sat down. Pulling his cloak over him, he gave one more check on the small boy in the bed hoping he'd wake up soon.

~~~~HP~~~~

As Harry started to come back into consciousness the only thing he could think was how much he ached from head to toe; even his insides ached and in a different way than the post-chemo pain he'd become so accustomed to. He could smell the familiar scent of the Hogwarts hospital wing - not as sterile as the hospitals he's been in recently, but still enough to recognize it as a place of healing. He tried to think back to what happened to land him here. Maybe a Quidditch accident again? No, it's summer holiday, so why was he at Hogwarts to begin with?

_I think I was watching a movie with Dudley._

That was the last thing he remembered, watching a movie with his cousin after his aunt and uncle went out celebrating; then there was the fight with Snape from yesterday.

He finally cracked his eyes open and based on the small amount light filtering in through the windows, it had to be after dinnertime. He tried to push himself upright, but became aware of several things at once - his right foot couldn't move at all, his port was hooked up to some kind of muggle medicine, and he also had an IV in his left hand. He ended up abandoning the idea of sitting and instead reached over to where he knew the side table would have his glasses. Unfortunately, one lens was still broken but he only needed one to see. Looking down, he noticed he was not in the standard infirmary issued pyjamas, but a pair of button down black flannel ones with the top 3 buttons undone for access to the port.

His curtain was closed for privacy, but someone was asleep in the large armchair pulled up on the right side of his bed. On second thought, asleep wasn't quite the right word, it was more like passed out. Leaning over, his heart leapt, it was Snape!

His curtain was opened causing him to jump. Of course, it was Madam Pomfrey, who else would be notified that he had woken up.

"Good Afternoon Mister Potter," the medi-witch whispered peeking over at Snape. "How are you feeling?"

Harry wet his lips and then tried to say "fine" but nothing came out. Frustrated, he tried again, this time a scratched "water" was heard.

Madam Pomfrey nodded in understanding and handed Harry the glass of water from the bedside table. She then repaired his glasses with a quick _reparo._

"Better?" she whispered again.

"Yes, thank you," he croaked. "What happened?"

"I'm afraid there was an attack at your home in Little Whinging last night," Madam Pomfrey started explaining in her typical no-nonsense manner. "Unfortunately, most of the home was destroyed, but several members of the Order were able to get you out. You'll be here for at least a couple of days."

Number 4 Privet Drive was destroyed? There were so many questions running through his mind.

"What happened to Dudley?" At Madam Pomfrey's confused look, Harry added, "My cousin. The last thing I remember is watching a movie with him."

"Oh, yes he's just fine. Knocked out real good, but he went to a muggle hospital and will be staying with an aunt or someone like that."

Harry shuddered, "Aunt Marge? What happened to his parents? My aunt and uncle."

"I believe so dear. You don't worry anymore about it, Professor Dumbledore will fill you in on all the details when you've gotten your strength back."

Harry tried not to dwell too much about what he couldn't remember as Madam Pomfrey did a wide range of checks on him; it proved to be almost impossible though. His right leg was in what he now realized was a cast from the bottom of his foot up to just below his knee, clearly due to a broken bone that wasn't healed magically, serving as a constant reminder of what had happened.

Once the medi-witch was finished, she brought him a bowl of chicken soup with bread for dinner. He picked at the food thinking about everything that had gone on in the last couple weeks. From the Department of Mysteries to now, his life looked nothing like he was used to and now with the house on Privet Drive gone, he had no idea where he would end up staying this summer.

* * *

Harry got his answer about where he was going to be living for the summer only three days later. Madam Pomfrey and Healer Smithe refused to even consider letting him leave the hospital wing until his fever was completely gone and his blood levels back to as close to normal as they could be considering the Leukemia and chemotherapy. Healer Smithe explained that due to the infection, he couldn't continue on his normal treatment schedule and he would present the new schedule at a later time. Harry thought that sounded rather ominous, but no matter how much he pleaded, the healer wasn't budging, claiming he needed to review the protocol with his oncologist consultant.

By the time he was cleared to leave the hospital wing, he was feeling the best since starting the chemo and the only lasting effect from the Privet Drive attack was his broken leg and sore muscles. He would be in the cast for no less than 6 weeks, which would be right before classes started back for fall term. To get around, he was required to use a set of muggle crutches which looked completely out of place in the castle and he was secretly happy no one would be around to see him.

Snape had not been to the hospital wing as much as Harry had hoped since he had so much to discuss with the professor. A lot had happened since he found out about Snape's _other life_ and even after Harry kicked him out, the man had come back to rescue him. That wasn't something he could just ignore. Snape stopped by at least twice a day, but Harry suspected the Potions Master was there more often, especially seeing as he slept off the fever most of the day. He could tell Snape was in a state of panic, or at least as much as a man with that much pride and stoicism could show, because he was constantly on alert especially whenever the headmaster stopped by at the same time. Harry could only assume it had something to do with Voldemort, but no one was giving him any information.

There were two topics that were consistently avoided - anything that had to do with whatever reality that Snape had come from and the details of the Privet Drive attack. No matter how many times Harry asked, everyone managed to avoid answering his questions with not-so-subtle diversions. Harry spent his time sorting through all the information he did know either inherently or by the eavesdropping he'd managed to do... the wards fell around his relatives' house Friday night, Dudley wasn't seriously hurt but had now gone to stay with Aunt Marge, Snape showed up after the Death Eaters entered the house, someone blew up one of his walls, the Order showed up and the battle eventually ended. He was getting extremely frustrated with the adults around him and at this point would almost take going back to live with his aunt and uncle just to get away from everyone.

"I bet you're ready to get out of here, aren't you Mister Potter," Madam Pomfrey cheerfully said coming around the curtain.

"You have no idea. I'm pretty sure I was fine last night though." Harry was always hating staying in the hospital wing and he was more than ready to get out of there. Remus had been by with whatever they could salvage from his bedroom which at least included a pair of his own pyjamas. He was wearing a set of green and black plaid bottoms with a green long sleeved t-shirt.

"Yes, well an extra day never hurt anyone," she busied herself running one last diagnostic charm. "I see your healer has been by to remove the IVs and delivered your crutches."

Harry nodded, looking over to the side of his bed where the crutches were leaning; thinking how interested this was going to be. Snape and Dumbledore walked around the curtain just as the diagnostic test was finishing and Snape picked up the crutches holding them out to Harry.

"Is anyone going to tell me where I'm bloody going?"

Dumbledore took control of the conversation, "Of course, Harry. You'll be staying with Professor Snape for the time being-" hearing this, Harry took a sideways glance at the potions professor who didn't react at all, "- he'll still be overseeing your care at least until the start of term."

"What will happen to me then?" He was twisting a thread from his blanket around his fingers as he nervously asked, relieved the professor still wanted to help him.

"We'll discuss that as we approach the start of term," the headmaster explained and Harry felt like he was an inconvenience being passed off from one person to the next.

Harry nodded. "And what about my aunt and uncle?"

Snape and Dumbledore turned towards each other as if they were having a silent conversation. For all Harry knew, they actually could be.

In the end, it was Snape that spoke up, "Harry, the blood wards... What do you know about them?"

"Oh," this was an unexpected question, "well, it's an extension of my mother's sacrifice. As long as I call the same house _"home"_ as my aunt, I'm protected from Voldemort and the Death Eaters or at least I was _supposed_ to be."

"Exactly," the younger professor said. "Last Friday, the wards fell completely leaving you unprotected which is how the Death Eaters were able to attack you.

"After a thorough investigation, we found that the Dark Lord discovered that by eliminating your aunt, the wards would then fail, giving them complete access to you."

Harry felt like all the air was sucked from the room and straight out of his lungs. His aunt was _eliminated_ ... killed... to get to him. While he should have been more affected by their deaths, he found he wasn't sad at all. What he was upset about was that he was finally starting to get along with Dudley and now the boy was an orphan too; and it was all Harry's fault, just like Uncle Vernon used to yell about. Once again Voldemort managed to completely screw up his life.

"Oh," was all he could think to say. "But how? Sir?"

"It appears the clients your aunt and uncle were visiting that night were part of an elaborate ruse," Snape was speaking slowly, but confidently. "Once they were on their way home, there was a car accident and neither survived."

"A car accident?" It was ironic, really, but Harry wasn't going to express that now. "Are you sure it was Voldemort then? Could it have been a coincidence?"

"Based on the scene, there is no question," Dumbledore spoke this time. "In fact, quite a few muggles had to be obliviated afterwards for witnessing such unique circumstances."

"Oh. I need to see Dudley," Harry started to stand up with the help of his crutches. He didn't know where he was going, but he needed to move.

"You're not leaving the castle," Snape said, placing a hand on the teen's shoulder. "Once you're settled, he's expecting a letter from you. We'll send it to Mrs. Figg and she will make sure he receives it."

Harry didn't sit back on the bed, he was ready to leave and didn't want to wait any longer.

"Can we please go now sir?"

"Of course," Snape said, gesturing with his arm for Harry to start walking.

It was a tedious journey down to the dungeons trying to navigate the staircases on crutches. He was so focused on not falling face first down the stairs that he didn't really think about the fact that he would be staying with the professor he kicked out of his house less than a week ago. Not to mention that said professor somehow came here from a different world where he had adopted Harry. They definitely had a lot to clear between them, but it couldn't be much worse than living with the Dursley's could it?

After an eternity of hobbling down the corridors, Harry was exhausted and relieved when Snape stopped in front of a blank section of the stone wall. Harry nearly commented on if the professor forgot where he lived, but luckily stopped himself at the last second remembering the entrance to the Slytherin common room from second year. Snape waved his wand in a complicated pattern Harry hoped he would not need to remember then turned to the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Place your right hand here," the potion master said pointing to a depression in the stone.

Harry obediently placed his hand and immediately an extravagantly carved wooden door appeared to the left section of the wall.

"I don't expect you to be out wandering alone," Snape glared down at him as if to say that Harry would be in a heap of trouble for doing so, "but should you find yourself needing to come back without me, I've keyed you into the wards. All you need to do is place your hand in that space again and the door will appear."

Harry had visions of himself wandering the dungeons placing his hand on every section of the walls trying to find the right one. Without waiting for Harry to respond, Snape pulled the door open and ushered Harry inside. To the Gryffindor's surprise, and delight, the door did not disappear upon entering the inside of the room; otherwise he would have felt trapped.

He'd never put too much thought into where any of the professors lived while at school, but if he had, this was as far away from what he'd expect Snape to live in as possible. Instead of the cold, dark dungeon with bats hanging from the ceiling, he was met with a bright, comfortable space. Ron would be highly disappointed.

Directly in front of him was the sitting room. He made his way over to an enchanted window which showed the midday sun over the black lake. The window brought in the same amount of natural light as a regular window would have caused Harry to briefly forget he was underground. The walls were made of stone, but colored in a brighter grey than the regular dungeon stones. A modern-looking sofa that appeared rarely used sat in front of the large fireplace, with two comfortable looking armchairs on either side of the sofa, and a low coffee table was in the middle of them all. There was a desk next to a hallway off the left side of the sitting room where he could see a couple of doors and then a doorway to the left of the hall leading into a small kitchen. Finally, the right side of the sitting room was completely covered in tall bookshelves filled with both muggle and magical texts, and another closed door.

"That's my office," Snape said pointing to the door by the bookshelves, "which also leads to my personal potions lab. You are not to go in there alone for any reason."

"Yes sir," Harry replied. He could not think of a single reason why he would ever want to step foot in that room alone, but Snape had made it perfectly clear that should he find a reason, he likely would not survive the ordeal.

"Your room is this way," the professor gestured for Harry to follow him to the hallway. They stopped in front of the first door on the right. Pointing further down the hallway he continued the tour, "My room is at the end down there on the left. This-," he gestured to the door next to the one they were in front of, "- is a lavatory that you have access to directly from your room."

Something about the way Snape said _your room_ made Harry feel warm inside, like he was a welcomed addition to the normally private professor's space. The door to his bedroom opened to reveal an inviting room with the stone walls colored a light blue. A desk on the left wall sat next to a door leading to the lavatory Snape showed him from the hall. The wardrobe was on the wall flushed with the door and Harry thought the first thing he should do is unpack his trunk. The bed in the far right corner of the room sat under another enchanted window showing the same view as in the sitting room. The four poster bed was made up with blue and green sheets and bedspread making it look not only comfortable, but welcoming.

"This is brilliant sir," Harry said, truly grateful for a room that actually felt like it could be his. "Thank you."

Snape merely brushed off the gratitude as he always did, "You should have everything you need in the wardrobe and lavatory. If anything is missing, please do let me know."

Going further into the room, he found his wand on the bedside table. He'd been wanting to ask if anyone had recovered it, but since no one was discussing the attack with him he hadn't had the chance. Even though he wasn't supposed to use magic, he relaxed just holding his wand knowing should he have to use it, it was there.

"Alton will be stopping by within the hour to discuss the rest of your treatment schedule," Snape said before slowly leaving, the intention clear that Harry was expected to be there.

There was not quite enough time to get started on school work or take a nap, so he went over to the desk and found it already filled with all the supplies he could ever need - parchment, quills, ink, and an assortment of muggle paper, pens, pencils, and markers. He pulled out some paper and a pen to write to Dudley. How do you write a letter to the person whose parents you got killed?

_There's nothing I can say that he'll want to hear... I've now gotten 3 people killed in only a month._

After four failed attempts to write the letter, all of which now sat crumbled at his feet, he gave up and went to find Snape. He moved slowly on the crutches, but made it out to find his professor sitting in the closest armchair by the fireplace, a roaring fire keeping the air warm in the cold dungeon. He made a note to check if his slippers or warm socks made it here from the house.

Snape was reading through a large sheet of parchment and appeared not to notice Harry enter, which the Gryffindor didn't believe for one second. Just in case though, he went around the room so as not to surprise Snape from behind. Of course, as a spy he didn't really think the man could ever actually be surprised by such a thing. He decided to sit on the other armchair since the three-person sofa looked rarely used.

"Can we talk about, y'know... where you came from?" Harry was beyond nervous to bring up the topic that had been unofficially off limits since the day before the attack.

Snape put down the parchment and narrowed his eyes at his young charge, "I am not physically _from_ anywhere else."

_Why does he have to make this harder than it already is?_

"Well, it's the best way I can think to describe it. Seriously, though... " Harry trailed off slightly embarrassed.

"What is it you would like to know?"

"How did it happen?" Harry was relieved Snape didn't need anymore prompting; he instinctively knew Harry wanted to know how he'd ended up in his should-have-been hated professor's care.

"It wasn't an overnight occurrence," the professor was being intentionally vague; trying to provide the least amount of information that would satisfy Harry's curiosity. "Let's just say that an event occurred over the Christmas holiday of your first year that caused me to reevaluate my initial opinion of you."

_Am I imagining things or does he sound embarrassed?_

Harry could tell this was a topic the Potions Professor did not want to discuss, but the young wizard couldn't imagine why. Harry would have thought the man would be happy that Harry was at least taking him seriously and deep down Harry thought maybe this could start to change his views of Snape after all.

"And that was it? You were just nice to me after that?"

Snape paused before answering, "I was certainly more tolerant of you going forward."

Harry thought hard about that statement, maybe his other self hadn't realized the paradigm shift in the professor. He still couldn't see how they went from mutual hatred to father-son.

"Did I still accuse you of trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone?"

The professor actually laughed, "Yes, unfortunately all of that still occurred up to Quirrell's death, however I believe that was also the moment you realized I was no longer an enemy to you. While my opinion of you had been consistently changing throughout the end of first year, yours to me _was_ a bit of a sudden leap."

Snape sighed as if he decided that he could not get out of the conversation, so he would give in a little more than he wanted to.

"What _was_ different between our realities Harry was that in mine, I spent most of spring term determined to get you away from your relatives. In hindsight, I can now say that it was not only because it was the right thing to do but because I truly wanted what was best for you. At the time I told myself that it was what any responsible teacher would do for their student. It wasn't, however, nearly as easy as I would have hoped, but I should not have expected otherwise. Albus was insistent that the blood wards were of the utmost importance and your life inside that house, while not ideal, was also not endangered."

Harry listened to the story as if he were getting pieces of a memory back; as if he'd had amnesia or something and he was now trying to fit pieces of two different puzzles into one. It was a whole other life of his that actually existed without him knowing it.

"By the end of term, after the Philosopher's Stone debacle and you were unconscious in the hospital wing, the Headmaster informed me that he had decided to send you back to them. I refused to let him, telling him I'd take you under my care and if he didn't agree then he could find another former Death Eater to spy for him should the Dark Lord return. He finally agreed and put my already heavily warded home under a Fidelius Charm. Honestly I think he put up a big fuss just to get me to do exactly what I did. It worked out for us, so I cannot hold it against him."

He could hear the endearment in Snape's voice talking about events perfectly relevant to the man, but not at all to Harry. Instead, Harry closed his eyes wishing it had been him. He had so many questions he wanted to ask. How did he react being told he'd be living with Snape of all people? Was he excited just to be away from Privet Drive that he would have gone with anyone?

It didn't matter either way because apparently Snape had deemed the conversation closed, picking up his parchment to continue reviewing whatever it was. Living with the professor meant he'd get plenty of opportunities to ask about this _other life_ and he intended to take full advantage of it.

"What is that you're working on?" Harry asked casually, but in true Snape fashion he completely ignored the question.

"Have you put any more thought into shaving your head?" Snape asked bluntly, not even looking up from the parchment he was reading.

Harry flinched at the abrupt question.

"Erm... yeah," he started, this causing Snape to look up, "I might as well just get it over with right?" He ran his hand through the black mess again coming back with more hair in his fingers as if to prove a point.

"It's completely your decision," Snape replied, going back to his reading, "would you like some assistance?"

Harry took a deep breath considering the offer, "Erm... I don't think so."

"Ok. I'll leave the clippers Alton brought by for you in the lavatory after dinner," the professor casually said as if he were talking about going to buy potions ingredients.

Harry stared down at his feet just to have somewhere else to look besides Snape, feeling oddly out of place. Suddenly, the older wizard looked towards the door and a couple seconds later a piece of parchment appeared on the coffee table in front of them that just said _Alton Smithe_.

"Your healer is here," Snape called standing up and heading towards the door.

Harry could only assume that it was some kind of Wizarding Doorbell he'd just experienced. Not for the first time since entering the wizarding world he was amazed with what magic could do.

Grabbing his crutches, Harry stood up and started to head with Snape to the door before he was stopped.

"Sit down," Snape scolded him, "we'll have tea in here."

Harry sat back down, but this time on the sofa. He laid down sideways with his legs resting on the cushions next to him, really hoping Snape wouldn't mind his casual position. The sofa was quite comfortable and as long as he didn't get lectured by Snape, he determined this was going to be his spot.

A tray filled with tea, cups, and biscuits came hovering into the sitting room, practically over Harry's head. Sitting up a little further, he saw Healer Smithe walk in and take the armchair Harry had been previously sitting in. Snape hadn't followed and when Harry turned to find the potions professor, he saw Snape standing by the kitchen doorway staring at him as if he'd seen a ghost. He shook his head when their eyes met and entered the room taking his seat as well. Snape served tea for the three of them.

"So Harry," Healer Smithe started, "you had quite the weekend."

Harry frowned, "Something like that sir." He took a sip of his tea, which was surprisingly flavorful.

"I wish I could say the rest of your summer would go smoothly, but it at least won't be as bad as this weekend," he pulled out a folder from the bag Harry just noticed he brought with him, "I've reworked your treatment schedule due to the infection you had. Luckily, your blood work is stabilized again, but we'll continue to take blood everyday to monitor it. "

"Everyday?" That sounded far from pleasant.

"Unfortunately yes, we'll do a blood sample every morning until your induction chemo is completed. Which brings me to-" he handed Harry a schedule which might as well have been written in German, " - the schedule. It's been recommended, and I agree, that you start a continuous round of chemo to finish off the induction phase."

Harry looked down at the paper, shook his head and handed it over to Snape. "Continuous? Like, as in all the time?"

"Again, unfortunately yes. On top of having to miss several doses due to the infection, your blood samples weren't where we'd hope they would be at this point of induction, so we're going to go more aggressive to finish it off. Hopefully that will give it an extra push to remission. Starting Friday, you'll be on a 22hr on, 2hr off, schedule for a total of 7 days. Thursday I'll be by to do another Intrathecal, which should have been done this past weekend."

Harry could feel both sets of eyes on him gauging his reaction. He resisted the urge to complain, knowing it wouldn't matter in the end anyway, and decided to keep whatever bit of dignity he could.

"So, nothing tomorrow?"

"You should rest," Healer Smithe explained. "You're still recovering from the attack and you should gain as much strength as possible."

Harry nodded - that's all he ever did lately - and zoned out the rest of the conversation between his professor and his healer thinking about the fact that his blood work did not look promising to reach remission. It was a depressing thought. He didn't pay attention to the conversation around him until he heard Dumbledore's voice from the floo.

"Severus," the Headmaster's floating head greeted, "can you spare a few minutes?"

"I'll be right through," Snape replied standing up and Healer Smithe mirrored him once the headmaster was no longer in the floo.

"I'll be by tomorrow morning for a blood sample," Healer Smithe said while he readied his bag to leave. "Severus, please consider my suggestion."

Harry perked up at that statement, of all the times not to pay attention, he missed the chance to eavesdrop on something good.

"I'll consider it Alton," Snape walked the healer to the door and bid him farewell.

"I need to visit the headmaster," Snape said, coming up to the sofa. Harry had laid back down across and expected to be reprimanded for it, however the professor had that far away look again. "If you need me, I've recovered the sphere."

He handed Harry the sphere from his bedroom on Privet Drive. Harry lowered his eyebrows remembering the last time he tried to use it.

"I think it's broken sir. When I squeezed it during the attack, nothing happened."

"That's because it recognized you had intruders after you," Snape smirked. "You wouldn't want your enemy to know you had called for help, correct?"

Harry's mouth dropped open. That was the most Slytherin-thing he'd ever heard and yet totally brilliant. He was legitimately impressed by the idea. Before he could say anything to his professor though, the man placed his potions textbook on the table and then floo'ed to the Headmaster's office.

Harry picked up the potions book, assuming he was to start reading for his summer assignments. He'd been avoiding this subject because living with the professor - when he had every intention of reading over his assignments - meant he would get the inevitable tongue lashing early and he just didn't want to subject himself to that. Plus, without knowing his O.W.L mark for potions, he didn't think working on an assignment for a class he might not take was a good use of time. Now though, he'd either have to start the reading or get up to get another book and he just didn't want to move at that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the story starts bringing in the AU reality and comparing it to canon. I'm trying to keep the AU as canon as possible besides obviously the adoption and then the decisions I think would have changed based on that. I have read all the books but it was back when they were originally released. Recently I re-read 5-7 in preparation for writing this fic (because that's the timeframe this takes place) and I'm now reading the series with my daughter but we're only in CoS. All of that to say, I am trying to be as accurate as possible to the books up to HBP but could obviously miss some things or accidentally incorporate a movie-only fact.


	16. An Emotional Rollercoaster

Potions theory just wasn't captivating enough to keep Harry's attention that afternoon, so it didn't take the teen long to fall asleep. He dreamed the strangest dream of the Pivot Drive attack; of Snape threatening him detention of all things during the whole ordeal. When he awoke, it was to a feeling he'd long lost and was happy to experience again - hunger. Sitting up, he reached for his glasses finding them on the table beside him. Snape must have removed them when he came back from meeting with Dumbledore. Once his glasses were on his face, he noticed a soft green and silver blanket was covering him and he couldn't contain the small smile at the warm thought of his professor doing such a thing as covering him with a blanket.

The clock on the fireplace mantle read half past four and the enchanted window brought a soft glow of the pending sunset, so grabbing his crutches, Harry headed towards the kitchen. He could hear pots and pans moving around when he came through the doorway.

"You need to learn Occlumency," were the first words Snape said without even turning away from the small stove.

"Why are you cooking? I always took you as having a house elf to do that kind of stuff or are there no house elves around in the summer?" Everyone else seemed fine to ignore his questions, so he didn't feel bad at all about ignoring Snape's statement.

"As a matter of fact, no the house elves are not working per se. During the summer months they focus on things that cannot be done when there are hundreds of teenagers around," he turned to face Harry, arms crossed over his chest. Harry was getting too used to seeing the professor without the billowing teachers robes and he wasn't nearly as intimidated by the man anymore. "If need be, they are here, but I prefer not to have them in my quarters and to handle my own cooking. Plus, I generally don't spend the summers at the castle; at least not exclusively."

That made sense, in fact Harry should have assumed the professors had somewhere besides Hogwarts to call home. He wondered what Snape's house was like. The man's quarters in the castle were nothing like he expected, but he had a hard time imagining his house was anything but dark and dreary.

Snape gestured for him to take a seat at the four-person table in the small kitchen area. A plate of dinner consisting of roasted turkey with gravy, potatoes, and peas, was placed in front of him. Snape sat down at the settings across from the young wizard.

"As I was saying," the professor lectured, "you need to finish learning occlumency."

"Why now?" Harry picked up his fork and poked at the food. It smelled delicious, but he was wary to eat it.

"It is not poisoned. I thought we've been through this already."

"It's just weird," Harry took a tentative bite.

"Elaborate please," Snape seemed way too comfortable to Harry.

"Well, I've never been in a professor's quarters before," Harry started explaining, "and then, I don't know... Having you cook for me in your kitchen just seems... Odd."

"Unless you plan on starving yourself this summer," Snape said dramatically, "get used to it."

They let an awkward silence fall over the table while they both ate their dinner.

"Care to explain why you don't wish to discuss occlumency. Besides the obvious?"

Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice so he could delay his answer as much as possible. "Well, I just don't see the point. Voldemort wasn't successful last year when he possessed me, or whatever that was, and frankly from what I've seen, you're not a spy anymore so there's not much he can gain from me."

"Have you thought that maybe learning about your current... ailment would be less than ideal for the side of the light?" Harry could hear the doubt in the former spy's voice as he considered what would happen if Voldemort found out. "Besides, there is another, more pressing reason why you need to learn."

"What's that?"

Snape raised one eyebrow, "I can't provide that information at this time, but once term resumes, be prepared to start again."

Harry frowned, "Are you sure that's wise sir? I mean, last time-" Harry trailed off, having a hard time looking his professor in the eyes.

"As I said previously, you put as much effort into learning as I did in teaching and... I apologise for my part in that."

Harry almost audibly gasped. An apology from Severus Snape! Ron would never believe this... But then, this isn't the same Snape is it? This Snape has memories from a completely different life, so did that even count? Harry decided to take the opportunity to continue asking about his other life.

"Did I know occlumency where you're from?" He had to ask the burning question in his mind. Had Sirius...?

"Yes," Snape answered quietly. "I taught it to him, or rather you, in fourth year."

"So, then the Department of Mysteries... And Sirius?" Harry couldn't ask it out loud and was relieved when Snape understood.

The Potions Master looked uncomfortable, "It didn't happen. Even if the Dark Lord had been around to invade your mind as he did this past year, you already knew occlumency by then. The summer before your fourth year, you started to see visions of a graveyard. Once you finally explained to me what was happening, we were able to stop them using occlumency."

Harry shifted in his seat showing how uncomfortable he was with this discussion. This confirmed it was his fault Sirius died. Had he been able to learn from Snape last year, he never would have gotten the false vision.

"Remember Harry, by that point you'd been in my care for over 2 years and trusted me much more than my counterpart here. While I don't expect that level of trust now, I do hope we can at least gain some sort of working trust so you can protect your mind from a very real threat in this world."

Harry bit his lower lip, that was a lot to ask. Could he really trust Snape? If he was honest with himself, it didn't seem as much of a stretch now than it would have last year or even last month. He wanted to trust the man, but he didn't know if he could go through with it.

"So, then what happened with Sirius?"

"Are you looking for something specific?" Snape asked and when Harry shook his head he continued,

"Ironically, he was in this very room the day I left there and woke up here. Everything from your 3rd year happened as it did in this reality, even that damn time turner from the Headmaster," Severus never understood why Albus would trust that to a set of 13 year olds and the Potions Master threatened his resignation with Harry's unenrollment over that event, "but you managed to convince me to question his conviction and we were able to prove his innocence. Unfortunately, we never did find Pettigrew.

"Your Godfather and I eventually came to a truce with each other. At first, he had a hard time adjusting to the adoption, given our history and his status as your Godfather, but he learned to respect it; more for your benefit than mine."

Harry closed his eyes trying not to think how unfair it was that in this world he was alive, but not Sirius and in that one Sirius lived while Harry had died. It's like they were destined not to coexist together. He found himself wishing he could wake up tomorrow in that other world, before the diagnosis. Maybe then he could make different choices than he did and live a life surrounded by people who cared for him with no Voldemort instead of his lonely world where he's destined to kill or be killed.

"Don't," Snape said threateningly.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't go down the _what if's_ ," the professor explained. "Life here happened as it did and the best we can do is keep moving forward. You have enough to focus on ahead of you."

"Like saving the world from Voldemort?" Harry knew it sounded petty, but he didn't care one bit.

"I think you should start with trying to see some worth in yourself, maybe try to forgive yourself, and be confident in who you are as a person and a wizard. The rest will fall into place."

While all that sounded fine and good, Harry didn't exactly know what it meant or how to accomplish it.

"How did I get out of the Triwizard Tournament? You mentioned a loophole before?" Harry had deemed that as the turning point for Voldemort's return here which did not occur in the other world, so knowing why and how he managed to stop it felt important.

Snape turned away from Harry momentarily before speaking, "Well, as your parent I tried to refuse to give consent. I went as far as the Wizengamot, but was told parental consent was not needed and therefore not a valid reason to break the contract. At that point, there was only a little over a week before the first task, so I focused on training you the best I could. I don't think I'd ever been so scared in my life; watching you with that dragon.

"Once that was behind us, I continued to spend as much time as I could searching for a way to get you out of it. Finally discovering that the contract - the one that did not require my consent - was written for Harry James Potter. When you were officially adopted, we never considered changing your name; I didn't want you to think I was in anyway replacing James. However, there was no contract requiring a Harry James Potter-Snape to compete. Since you legally had a right to take my surname, once we filed the paperwork, the contract was broken automatically."

"So... Where you come from, I went by Harry Snape?" That sounded very wrong and Harry could feel his heart rate increasing.

"Potter-Snape. And you didn't need to. I told you I didn't expect you to use it, but once it was official you just did. I never asked why," the professor didn't say he'd overheard Harry's reason when he was discussing it with his friends and it was one of the few memories he most cherished.

So, Snape had been the only reason he didn't get to the third task and Voldemort's resurrection. To Harry, that was a hard truth to swallow.

"Ok professor," he finally conceded, "I'll try harder to learn Occlumency this time. But I still think you should at least tell me why it's so important that I learn it."

Snape gave a frustrated sigh, "In time I will, but for now take it as your first test of trust in me."

Nothing in that statement made Harry feel comfortable.

~~~~A/U SS~~~~

_As usual, Severus and Harry had a very casual Christmas at Spinner's End this year with a relaxing morning just the two of them, followed by dinner at Grimmauld Place with Sirius, Remus, and Remus's new girlfriend Nymphadora Tonks, who refused to go by her first name and only answered to Tonks. They had a much more vibrant New Year's celebration at the Burrow with more people in attendance than Severus was comfortable to be around, but it made his 14-year old son happy so he endured it. The kids spent most of the night playing a pick up game of Quidditch before they all rang in the New Year with some questionably legal fireworks courtesy of Fred and George._

_They had just resumed classes after the Christmas holidays and Severus was feeling infinitely better now that he'd managed to get Harry out of that blasted Triwizard Tournament. He mentally kicked himself for not having thought of it before the first task, but it was done and now behind them._

_"Oh Severus," Minerva said on the first morning before classes started back, "I see there was an official change to my house roster for a Mr. Harry Potter-Snape."_

_"Don't get too sentimental," Severus said realistically, "it was a means to an end."_

_Minerva smiled, "I guess we shall have to wait and see what the young man himself decides. I have a feeling you'll be pleasantly surprised."_

_The potions professor simply shook his head. No matter what anyone else thought, had Harry actually wanted to use his last name they would have changed it much sooner than this._

_Severus didn't make it a habit of listening in on his son's conversations, but in Potions class that day, Ron and Harry were seated in the front row and their topic of conversation caught his attention immediately -_

_"Are you really going to start using Potter-Snape?" He heard Ron ask Harry once they started their work for the day, "I mean, it was all just on paper to get out of the tournament right? It's not like you're required to use it now."_

_Harry put down the stirring rod and turned to Ron, "I know, but technically it's magically binding, so all of my school documents automatically updated. It would be a constant battle to keep correcting professors, so I think I'm sticking with it."_

_Severus watched discreetly as Harry went back to stirring the potion; proud of him for keeping a close count on the clockwise and anticlockwise steps. Once the Gryffindor finished with the required three in each direction he looked back at his friend and added, "Not only that, why can't I have the same last name as my dad... Everyone else does."_

_Severus quickly took interest in the papers on his desk, while taking a large cleansing breath. Harry had never referred to him as "dad" before, at least not in his presence. Two things happened that day - from then on, Harry went by "Harry Potter-Snape" and he started calling Severus "dad". Severus didn't care what anyone else would say about him, but at that moment couldn't keep the smile off his face._

~~~~SS~~~~

Deep down Severus knew that conversation wasn't going to go well. Knowing Sirius hadn't been killed was difficult for Harry to hear and he definitely did not want to think of himself as a Snape even if it wasn't in this lifetime. As expected, the Gryffindor promptly got up from the table and took his plate to sink before leaving the kitchen. Severus was surprised that the bedroom door wasn't slammed any harder than normal.

He had just finished cleaning the dinner dishes and left over food when he heard banging from the hallway. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked to go deal with the sullen teenager. For the briefest moment he almost thought this could have been any normal day in his old world.

"Harry?"

Getting closer to his bedroom door, he heard the banging again but coming from the adjoining lavatory. Starting to worry, he tried to open the lavatory door carefully but was met with resistance on the other side.

"Harry," he called out, "are you ok?"

Pressing his ear to the door, he heard sniffling and a muffled "yeah". Not believing for a second that he was indeed ok, Severus changed tactics and walked to the bedroom door. He slowly cracked it open wanting to provide whatever privacy he could for Harry, but not at the expense of his safety.

Once in the room, he walked to the open lavatory door. Leaning against the doorframe he looked down at the small teen. Harry was slumped against the door leading to the hall, his head resting on his arms on his one propped up knee. Between them was a stool in front of the sink with the muggle hair clippers sitting next to the sink. It wasn't a stretch to figure out what had occurred.

"I can't do it," Harry said, finally looking up to meet Severus's eyes.

"You can always wait for... nature to take its course," Severus said calmly, "or if you'd like, I can do it for you."

Harry just blinked at him and Severus started to question to himself if he'd suggested that out loud or not.

"Would you mind?" The small voice asked, his eyes pleading for help.

"I would not have offered if I did," he held out his hand to help Harry off the floor, "I don't know how you even managed to end up down there."

Harry hobbled up and sat down on the stool facing the mirror. He ran his hand through his thinning hair one more time.

"Other way," Severus said, lowering his eyebrows. "This way you don't have to watch, that is unless you want to."

Harry rotated on the chair, "Oh, that's a good idea. I don't want to see it."

Severus grabbed a towel from the shelf and draped it over Harry's bony shoulders. Turning on the clippers, he waited for Harry to get used to the sound in case he changed his mind. Harry gave a small nod and Severus started to run the clippers as carefully as he could from the front of his head to the back. Slowly, black locks of hair started to fall and collect on the towel and tumbled onto the floor.

Once it was completed, Severus ran his hand over Harry's smooth head.

"Looks good," he said trying to act like nothing had changed.

"I don't think _good_ is what I'm going for," Harry said, intending to be sarcastic but it came out sad. He was about to turn around, when Severus stopped him.

"Wait a minute," he walked out of the lavatory into the bedroom. He'd placed some beanies in there the other day in preparation for when this moment arrived. Grabbing one, in green to match Harry's eyes, he also summoned a blank piece of parchment then made his way back to the lavatory. Harry was still sitting with his back to the mirror, his eyes currently closed.

"Here," he said softly, handing Harry the beanie. "You should look before putting that on."

Instead of turning around, Harry opened his eyes, took the beanie and looked down at the hair all around the floor.

Snape gestured to the hair and held out the parchment, "Do you mind?" he asked.

After Harry's confused look, he bent down and picked up a lock of hair and placed it on the parchment. He waved his wand, placing a sticking charm on the lock of hair, then folded it and handed it to Harry to keep.

The young wizard took the parchment and simply said, "Thank you," before turning around to look in the mirror.

Severus placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, "It will grow back once all this is over."

~~~~HP~~~~

_I'm a coward._

Even though he really had no reason to be, Harry was in a foul mood after the haircut. It didn't help that he was finally able to bathe, but with the bloody cast on his leg it was awkward and he grudgingly needed Snape's help yet again. Even though the professor placed a waterproofing charm on the cast itself, Harry was still hesitant to test it out submerged in the water which made for an uncomfortable experience all around.

Tomorrow was supposed to be considered a "rest day", but now that he knew what to expect with the chemo coming up, he really wanted to use this newfound energy to see Ron. He's always had his friends by his side and even though at the end of term he was ready for some space, being cooped up with his potions professor had gotten to him. The only problem was he had to ask Snape to arrange a visit and that's exactly why he was calling himself a coward.

He probably should have been in bed at least an hour ago, but he was anything but tired so he was laying across the sofa in Snape's sitting room attempting to read through his potions textbook yet again. What he was actually doing was thinking of all the ways Snape would humiliate him for asking to visit with Ron; none of which ended well for the Gryffindor.

"Are you planning on teaching next term?" Snape's monotone voice broke through his thoughts.

"What are you talking about?"

Snape gestured to the textbook, "The only reason I can imagine you would be reading the same page for almost a half hour is if you planned on teaching the lesson."

Harry felt his face flush. "Oh, erm. I wasn't really reading it."

"Obviously," the professor paused, "what is on your mind?"

"It's nothing." The young wizard dramatically flipped the page in the textbook as if to make a point.

Snape put down the book he was reading, _Powerful Potions of Ancient Asia,_ on the coffee table. He crossed his right foot over his left knee and stared questioningly at his young charge.

"Is it about your O.W.L. marks?"

Harry frowned and replied full of sarcasm, "Actually, I kind've forgotten about those. Thanks for the reminder though, another disappointment to look forward to this summer."

He knew that wasn't exactly fair to throw back, but he really hadn't been thinking about them and it wasn't like the scores mattered that much anyway. Without being able to cast spells, he was bound to fall behind. Did O.W.L. marks expire if you don't take the N.E.W.T. course right away? He made a mental note to ask Hermione; it was something she would know.

"Sorry sir," Harry finally said. "It's just... I was thinking... Never mind."

_See, you're a total coward._

Deciding just to go to bed and forget the awful day, he reached for his crutches meeting the professor's eyes in the process. The man appeared upset, but at what Harry couldn't even start to guess.

"Fine," Harry conceded angrily, "I was hoping to see Ron now that I'm at the castle for the summer, but _clearly_ that's a bad idea."

"And why is that?"

Harry swept his arms around the sitting room as if that explained it all. To further prove his point, he added, "I'm living in the dungeons for one. I could just imagine how _that_ conversation would go."

"Are you finished?" Snape asked a moment later. For some reason, that infuriated Harry even more.

"Yes... No! I don't know!" He yelled, "Why does it matter?"

"First," Snape leaned forward steepling his hands together, "I don't care where we stood in the past, but you will respect me in these quarters.

"Second, before you work yourself into a deeper anxiety attack, Molly Weasley will be here tomorrow anyways. If you'd like the youngest Mr. Weasley to visit, you needn't go further than simply asking."

Harry felt like an idiot. How was he supposed to know Mrs. Weasley was going to be here?

"Why is Mrs. Weasley going to be here?"

The Potions Master narrowed his eyes clearly thinking before replying, "I'm needed by the headmaster tomorrow."

"So she's babysitting me." It wasn't a question and he was highly offended at the thought of a babysitter.

"Don't think too hard about it," Snape brushed off the offended tone, "she is going to be in the castle anyway and I simply asked if she could check-in on you. Would you like me to request the youngest Mr. Weasley to accompany her?"

As much as he hated to admit it, spending time with Ron was more important than his pride.

"Yes sir," he mumbled, "that would be great if you could." There... he swallowed his pride, "I take it there's no chance of me meeting him outside on the grounds is there?"

"None at all," Snape confirmed picking his book back up, "you're still immunocompromised, which means you have to stay in these quarters. Now go to bed."

Harry gave a hard sigh, but picked his crutches up and left for his bedroom.

* * *

"It's totally barmy," Ron exclaimed once they were alone in Harry's bedroom in Snape's quarters the next day.

Harry was sitting across the bed actually dressed in clothes that couldn't be classified as pyjamas; a nice quality plain blue t-shirt and a pair of trousers that actually fit. There was a whole set of new clothes like these in the wardrobe and he suspected Snape had gotten them which was more than a little embarrassing.

Mrs. Weasley was making them all lunch, to which Snape not so nicely declined to stay. Even though Mrs. Weasley had seen Harry back at Pivot Drive, he was extremely self-conscious now that his hair was gone. Add to that, the idea of seeing Ron for the first time and he almost cancelled the whole thing. Luckily, Ron was more distracted by Snape's quarters than Harry's lack of hair and cast.

"Your room is nice though," his friend continued, "I'm sure Dumbledore made sure he didn't put you in a cupboard or something like that."

"I wouldn't go that far," Harry commented quietly letting Ron interpret that as he wanted. After all, he didn't know that Dumbledore had left him to _literally_ live in a cupboard for 10 years. "How's your summer been?"

"Oh, it's been awesome," Ron said, not picking up on the subtle change of subject, "Fred and George have brought home all these new things to test. It's driving mum mad, I wouldn't be surprised if she starts searching them before they come over to the house from now on."

Harry laughed, a real full laugh which felt good compared to the gloomy mood he'd been in recently. No matter what they'd been through in the past, he could always count on Ron to help lighten things up.

"I wish you could see the new shop," Ron exclaimed. "It's bloody brilliant! How long do you think you'll be stuck down here?"

Harry shrugged, "Not sure to be honest; doubt I'll be able to leave as long as this-" he pointed to his cast, "- is still on. And that's at least until right before term starts."

"Rotten luck Mate, I'll be sure to bring you something from their shop next time. If you get caught though, you're on your own with Snape," Ron gave Harry a terrified look. "Then once you're feeling better you, me, and 'Mione will go check it out."

Ron went on to continue telling him all about the twins' shop and what he's already decided to sneak into the school next term. He didn't seem to care that there was no way Hermione wouldn't find out about it especially since she was staying the rest of the summer at the Burrow starting next week.

"I'm sorry about your relatives. I know you didn't like them much, for good reason," Ron finally said after they'd gotten through a handful of other topics.

Harry looked down into his lap. He hadn't talked about the attack with anyone yet. "Thanks Ron. I don't really know what I feel about it yet. I guess it's still sinking in... If nothing else, I feel bad for Dudley."

Ron looked very uncomfortable with the conversation, "Your cousin, right? Why would you feel bad for him?"

Harry frowned. Ron grew up in a big family, with both his parents alive, he would never understand what it felt like not to have them there for him.

"Well," Harry started, "besides the fact that I know what it's like not to have parents and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, he knew his parents... He knows what he lost. Yes, I miss my parents all the time, but it's still different because I don't really remember them. Not only that, Dudley changed a lot this past year."

"Wait... So you're not saying you guys actually got along?!"

"Something like that," Harry knew he would never get Ron to understand. Hermione might, but Ron couldn't. "I have to write to him at some point."

Ron just gave a small nod, clearly not sure what else to say about the topic.

"Do you know anything that's going on with Order?" Ron finally asked to fill the silence.

"No, nothing at all," Harry honestly answered, "you?"

"No," the redhead's face fell, "something's going on though, I can just tell it's something big too. Bill and Charlie have even been home, which is just strange. Y'know, since you're living with Snape..."

He trailed off as Mrs. Weasley approached the doorway.

"Ronald, you will not get involved in things that are none of your business," she lectured directly to Ron. Then turning towards Harry she said, "Lunch is ready dear. Do you need any help getting to the kitchen?"

"I'm alright Mrs. Weasley. Thank you though," he said, "for making lunch too."

"You're very welcome dear. Don't take too long," she said to Ron before leaving.

"I swear she likes you better than any of us," Ron complained.

Harry laughed again, "Well, in your defense, she doesn't actually live with me. I'm sure she'd get tired of me after a while too."

"I don't think so Mate," Ron said grabbing Harry's crutches and handing them to him. "You know, Dad's going to want to learn all about these; just warning you now."

* * *

Lunch was comfortable, even though they were sitting in Snape's kitchen, a fact that Ron had a hard time grasping. Mrs. Weasley made plates of ham sandwiches, watermelon and strawberries, crisps, and pumpkin juice. Harry was happy to still have his appetite from yesterday and ate a full lunch.

"So Harry," Mrs. Weasley asked about halfway through lunch, "have you received your O.W.L. results yet?"

Harry took a sip of pumpkin juice before answering, "No, not yet. Honestly, I'm not sure they'll know to send them here."

"Don't you worry about that, they'll get them to you," Mrs. Weasley patted his forearm as she said it.

"I'm sure 'Mione is freaking out over getting hers," Ron laughed.

The rest of the lunch was spent discussing only neutral topics like the twins' joke shop with all the new products they've been working on (Harry made a mental note not to eat _anything_ he received from them without questioning it first), plans after Hogwarts (Auror for both of them), Hermione's plans to stay at the Burrow starting the following week (which made Harry more than a little jealous), the Chudley Cannons season, and what Harry had learned living the 24 hours in Snape's quarters (since he wasn't suicidal, he didn't say a single thing). What they didn't talk about hung over the conversation like a thick fog; the attack at Privet Drive (Harry still didn't know if anyone from the Order had been hurt or killed), Harry's cancer (though he could clearly see they had loads of questions), Voldemort, and the upcoming school year.

After lunch, Harry and Ron spent the afternoon playing wizard's chess in the sitting room until Snape returned around dinnertime. Mrs. Weasley wouldn't take no for an answer when Snape said she didn't need to prepare dinner, so they all ended up eating together at the kitchen table.

As they were finishing dinner, Snape surprised them all by asking, "Mr. Weasley, I hear you have an excellent game of chess, care to test that?"

Harry almost spit out his pumpkin juice laughing as the blood completely drained from Ron's face.

"Uh, me sir?" Ron managed to reply.

"I sure hope you didn't think I would call your mother _MR_. Weasley," the fact that Snape seemed amused only caused Ron to become more terrified.

Standing up, Snape waved them all into the sitting room, "Come in the sitting room, I have a very nice set handed down through my family."

Still recovering from the Privet Drive attack, Harry was exhausted but was having such a good day that he didn't want to miss this by going to bed. Chemo days would be coming back to haunt him and he wanted to soak in all he could before that started.

Ron was too nervous to say " _no"_ once Snape set up the chess set and he gave Harry a face as if to say this might be his last night alive. Harry sat with Mrs. Weasley on the sofa, who was reading a new wizarding cooking book, while Ron proceeded to start the game with several moves even Harry knew were bad. Once he became comfortable sitting across from his most hated professor, casually playing a game of chess, he was too far gone to recover.

"Next time," Ron said with confidence as Snape put the pieces back, "I'm going to start more focused; I think I could have taken you if it weren't for the start of the game."

"Challenge accepted," Snape smirked as he replied.

"Thank you for the wonderful evening Severus," Mrs. Weasley said as she and Ron were preparing to floo back to the Burrow. "I'll see you back here on Saturday."

Harry lowered his eyebrows considering what he'd just heard but he was too tired to put much thought in that tonight since it was already half past ten o'clock. To Harry, it was a perfect day and exactly what he needed to refresh before the chemo started again; technically tomorrow with the Intrathecal.

He left to brush his teeth and then dressed in a set of comfortable red pyjamas. Everything took him longer than normal with the cast and crutches, but when he finally made it back to his room, Snape was sitting on the chair at his desk.

"I need to ask you about something I saw the other day in the hospital wing," the professor asked the moment Harry entered the bedroom.

Sitting down on the bed he asked, "Ok, what's wrong?"

Snape looked exceedingly uncomfortable which actually calmed Harry's nerves more than he expected. The older wizard spoke in a very calculated manner, "I noticed some... marks, on the top of your hand."

Harry immediately covered his right hand with his left as if that would stop this entire conversation. His breathing shallowed thinking about the detentions with Umbridge.

"Where did they come from?" Snape asked confidently.

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry mumbled. "It's really not a big deal."

"I'll be the judge of if it's - as you say - a big deal or not."

This was not how he wanted to end such a great day. Why did Snape care where the words came from?

"Did you do it to yourself?" He heard the professor ask.

"What?" Harry asked quickly. First Dudley, now Snape. "No! Why would you think _I_ did this?!"

Snape steepled his finger clearly trying to keep control of the conversation, "I know last year there was a lot of talk throughout the school about your claims with the Dark Lord's return-"

"Yeah, there was! Even the _professors_ didn't believe me!" Harry yelled then mumbled a moment later, "or at least one didn't."

"Professors?" Snape raised one eyebrow in question. "Are you saying a professor did that?"

Harry didn't answer, but he knew he didn't have to. Snape was smart enough to figure it out on his own. He tightened his lips into a scowl as if to show he wasn't going to complain.

As realization hit the professor's eyes, he simply said, "Umbridge I take it?"

He didn't want to answer, but staring into the professor's eyes filled with rage that for once wasn't directed at him, but instead for him, he finally nodded. "In detention, she had this quill," he added, "and whenever I did lines, it would scratch what I was writing into my hand as the words appeared on the paper."

"A blood quill," Snape sounded defeated. "Of course she'd use dark magic on students."

Snape reached out and grabbed Harry's right hand and closely examined the scars. They would never go away, a permanent reminder to the young Gryffindor about one of his most horrific years at Hogwarts.

"How many detentions did you have? And why didn't you tell anyone?"

_Of course it's my fault._

"I told Ron and Hermione," he admitted, "and yes they told me to go to McGonagall or Dumbledore, but I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of hearing me complain about it. Hermione used Murtlap Essence on them, but this is what was left."

Neither professor nor student made a sound, however Harry could see the rage still behind Snape's dark eyes. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about the situation that had already happened. Harry really just wanted to ignore it altogether.

"I have to tell the Headmaster," the professor said, sad that this was yet another example of how the adults in Harry's short life had failed him. "He needs to be aware of the situation and he can handle it how he sees fit, even if that means going to the ministry."

There was nothing Harry could say to change Snape's mind. Had it only been himself subjected to the blood quill, he'd argue if that was really necessary, but he'd lose that argument now that Snape knew it was done in detention. Instead, he just moved to stare out the enchanted window.

"We'll be meeting Healer Smithe in the hospital wing at half past nine o'clock tomorrow morning," the potions professor said. Even now that they were away from Privet Drive, Harry still thought he looked exhausted and silently questioned if he would get more rest now that we're back at Hogwarts.

"We can't he do it here sir?"

"Since the intrathecal is done into the spinal cord, he would be more comfortable with it being done in the hospital wing."

"That's fair," Harry commented, not looking forward to the morning. "I'm pretty sure Ron almost had a heart attack playing chess against you. I swear he's usually better than he was tonight."

"I don't doubt that," Snape said casually, standing up, "where I'm from, we were usually pretty evenly matched. I wouldn't expect any difference here."

"So that's what you meant before; it had nothing to do with the Philosopher's Stone." Of course Harry was referring to when the professor alluded to Ron's chess skills only a couple weeks ago.

"Yes. Mr. Weasley and I have played many games of chess throughout the years," Snape walked away to the door. "Good night Harry."

"Good night, professor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot this in the last chapter's note - The story is listed as AU post-OOTP for obvious reasons, but I wanted to point out specifically that this fic only includes the unintentional horcrux in Harry (the diary too since that still happened), no other horcruxes will be involved - they simply do not exist.


	17. The Side You're on Now

"So what have you been meeting so often with Dumbledore about?" Harry asked casually.

They had just finished breakfast; Harry opting for a lighter meal of porridge with fruit and granola along with a glass of orange juice which was such a pleasant surprise - since he'd never seen any at the castle during the school year - that he didn't care how awful it would be to sick it up later. He had a suspicion that Snape purchased it himself from a muggle shop.

"Why do you think it's any of your business?"

Harry frowned. In the short time he'd spent with Snape, he quickly learned the professor liked to answer a question with a question. It was outright annoying sometimes.

"Since I'm the one with a prophecy about me to kill Voldemort, I'm pretty sure anything about the war involves me. It's not like I expect you'll tell me anyway, but it _was_ worth a try."

"Au contraire," Snape started, putting down the _Daily Prophet_ , an interesting choice Harry hadn't expected his professor to be caught dead reading, "if this last year has taught us anything, it is that you do better with _select_ information than none at all."

Harry would have gotten angry if Snape hadn't practically admitted, for the second time this summer, that he would tell Harry some information if it was warranted, which was better than Dumbledore telling him none at all. It was almost worth living in the dungeon quarters; maybe Ron was on to something.

"This, however," Snape continued taking a careful sip of coffee, "does not concern you nor your prophecy."

Harry thought the Potions Master seemed nervous and for some reason guessed it had to do with his spying duties. While no one flat out told him Snape was discovered as a traitor to Voldemort, he knew enough to guess something like that had probably happened. Every time Snape needed to leave now it was always to see Dumbledore and to Harry's knowledge he hadn't been summoned since Privet Drive. Before the attack, Snape was called at least every week. Something was up and if he didn't already have enough to focus on, he probably would have pushed harder to find out. As it was, he had plenty to keep his mind from wandering too far.

"Fine," Harry cringed just knowing that Snape would not like that response. "Can we please go and get this over with?"

Snape gave a hard sigh, "Absolutely, after you."

With his leg in a cast, Harry couldn't floo to the hospital wing, so they walked upstairs in silence. He really couldn't imagine having to navigate this every day, so he was silently thankful that if something like this had to happen, it was over the summer. Of course that didn't stop the school ghosts or Peeves from watching and commenting - not so silently in Peeves' case - on him hobbling throughout the castle.

By the time he got to the hospital wing, where both Madam Pomfrey and Healer Smithe were waiting near a bed with a tray of medical equipment on the left side, he remembered that the only time he'd had this particular procedure done was when his port was put in. This time, he wouldn't be sleeping for it. Suddenly, where he was usually anxious to get treatments over with, he was now so nervous he thought he might see his breakfast earlier than expected.

"Good morning Mister Potter," Madam Pomfrey greeted him with an apologetic look in her eyes, while showing him to the bed. Harry thought this must be strange for the matron, having to do so many muggle procedures.

"Morning," Harry mumbled, taking a seat and feeling like he was in a fish bowl with everyone watching him. Facing his healer, he asked "Can you walk me through this one again?"

"Of course," Healer Smithe stepped up to the side of the bed. "This will be done almost exactly like the spinal tap we did before you started treatments, but instead of taking fluids out I'll be injecting them in. For this one, you'll be laying on your left side in the fetal position, which will be much more comfortable when fluids are going in."

Harry went to lay down, but was stopped by the healer.

"Before we start," he explained, "we need to do a blood test and I'd like to get you started on the antiemetic. You didn't take the tablet this morning, correct?"

Harry had started back on his daily medications once his fever broke in the hospital wing, but he hadn't restarted that one yet. He luckily hadn't needed it and the dread immediately returned thinking that he would once again be sick.

"No sir, I haven't."

"Good. If it's ok with you," Healer Smithe continued while taking out the supplies needed for the blood sample and his antiemetic medication, "I'd like Madam Pomfrey to help out specifically with the port. She'll be giving me a hand with the chemo this week and throughout your school year."

It wasn't like he really had much of a choice, but they had warned him that she'd be involved at some point, so he didn't complain. He just nodded and leaned back on the pillows allowing the healer to walk the medi-witch through how to draw blood and hook up the medications. His cheeks flushed when Madam Pomfrey started cleaning the port and flushing it out with the saline solution, which was done each time before it was used. At this point Harry was comfortable with the whole process, but he was still a little embarrassed about it all, especially when someone saw him or his port for the first time.

In hindsight, he was happy he had been asleep during the first Intrathecal chemo because it really was an awful feeling. Having been through everything this last month, he now knew what to expect and that seemed to make it harder to sit still during the procedure. Eventually, Snape had to hold his neck and legs and when they finally made it through, Healer Smithe recommended the next time to use a type of muggle light sedation medication on him beforehand. Harry was again required to stay flat to allow the medication to distribute, which was a visual he could have done without.

By the time he'd made it back to Snape's quarters, it was past lunchtime and he picked at the scrambled eggs Snape had prepared. According to Healer Smithe, scrambled eggs was one of the best foods to try during chemo, the next being the smoothies.

"I think I'm going to lay down for a bit," he finally said, giving up on his lunch.

"I'll help get you settled," Snape said, standing up holding a muggle cup with a lid and straw full of water and a smoothie to supplement the uneaten lunch. Harry did not like being treated as a toddler, which was exactly how he was feeling right now.

"I don't need help," Harry complained. It was a second too late because he went to grab the cup, but couldn't figure out how to take both cups into his bedroom using the crutches. This would not be an issue if he could use magic, of course he wouldn't have the bloody cast to begin with if he could use magic anyway.

"Fine," he conceded, sounding defeated, leaving the kitchen for his bedroom.

Harry had just gotten settled into bed, with the pail next to him just in case, when a piece of parchment popped up in front of Snape. Harry tried to sneak a peek to see who had arrived at the door and was able to catch _Dumbledore_ and what he thought was _Malfoy_ before Snape incinerated the parchment - nonverbally and wandlessly, of course. After making sure Harry had the sphere for emergencies, he abruptly left. The Gryffindor resisted the urge to go eavesdrop, he was far too tired anyway.

~~~~SS~~~~

Thursday evening after getting Harry settled from the IT chemo, Severus was in his personal potions laboratory trying - and if he was honest with himself, failing - to prepare the new stock of potions for the hospital wing. He'd uncharacteristically let the calming draught he was working on boil too long in the cauldron and was now on his 3rd attempt. His mind kept going back to the last several days he'd spent with Albus and unfortunately Moody.

At first, they had been focusing on strategizing ways to get Severus back in the Dark Lord's good standing. Without someone on the inside, to not only ascertain information on Voldemort's plans but also feed strategically misleading information to him, they were at a disadvantage they could not afford this early into the war. However, without knowing exactly what Dolohov reported back, it was an extremely dangerous mission; one that neither he nor Albus were ready to attempt yet. Then there was the fact that he had not been summoned since the failed attack, which was definitely not a good sign for his future in espionage. He would almost rather have gotten summoned, taken his punishment, and worked his way out with an explanation for fighting against one of their own. He could have easily turned the situation around in his favor, but everyday that went by without getting that opportunity, the more hopeless that situation became.

In a matter of only a few weeks, he'd managed to derail his counterpart's position and that made him furious with himself. He couldn't tell if his allegiance had been discovered prior to the attack, but even if it had, he could have handled the situation better. He hadn't been thinking straight that night and now their side was being penalized for it.

At the top of all his thoughts, at least as high as Harry at this time, was the Malfoy situation. On Monday, Severus was called to Grimmauld Place where he was surprised to see Draco Malfoy bound to a chair with Albus and Moody standing on either side of him. It took a second to read this situation and not react to it immediately, just in case it was somehow a test.

"Severus," the headmaster greeted him, drawing the professor into the dining room, "young Mr. Malfoy contacted me last night with an interesting proposition that we'd like your expert opinion on."

Narrowing his eyes, he quickly went through the recent memories he had of Draco Malfoy in this reality and sighed in relief that their relationship was more or less the same as his old reality.

"And what proposition is this," he asked, meeting Albus's sharp blue eyes.

"Mr. Malfoy has told us that he's to take the dark mark at the start of next month," Albus explained with calculated words. Severus looked warily at Draco trying not to feel sympathy for his Slytherin student. Unfortunately, it was not surprising to hear no matter how much he wished to prevent such an occurrence in any of his Slytherins. "And apparently he has heard of your position, or now lack thereof, and has offered to fill in your place."

Severus didn't trust any of the Malfoy's and did not have any qualms stating so, "My expert opinion on the matter is that knowing the Dark Lord as I do, he would likely orchestrate this exact scenario as a way to infiltrate the Order. Do not forget, he lost what he assumed was his informant as well. He would go through great lengths to get another in my place."

Draco didn't flinch when Severus came to meet him nose to nose and in his dark baritone voice the professor asked, "Why should we trust a single thing you tell us?

"You're absolutely right," Draco called out, confidence dripping from his voice, "he wants me placed here to spy for him, but I don't want to do it! He's going to lose and then what? He won't come and help when all his followers end up in Azkaban."

Severus couldn't help thinking back to how he must have appeared to Albus on the night he asked for help protecting Lily. Why had Albus eventually trusted him? How was that any different than what Draco was claiming now? Was it because he was trying to save someone else and Draco's was pure self-preservation? In the end, even after using targeted Legilimency, the simple fact was that it could be detrimental to trust Draco. Until they could know for sure, Draco was to stay at Grimmauld place under strict guards.

That was where Severus spent the day yesterday, while Molly and Ron visited with Harry. Albus finally consented to the use of Veritaserum, which Draco had been asking to use to prove his true intentions. After a grueling interrogation - even one Severus would not want to be subjected to - they could not find any reason to believe the blonde teenager had been dishonest. While it was true that Draco's first mission from the Dark Lord was to gain the Order's trust, Draco indeed believed that Voldemort will be defeated and he didn't want to go down with him. Not the best or most stable reason to trust Draco, but in the end Severus didn't think Draco would have been able to withstand the last couple of days plus the interrogation if he hadn't truly wanted to help them.

It left Severus exactly one week to work with Draco and get him ready to stand beside the darkest wizard of their time with every intention to betray him, all while not getting himself killed; and of course it had to be the same week Harry was starting the continuous chemo. Just thinking about it all gave him a migraine; it was no wonder he couldn't concentrate on brewing a potion he taught to his fourth years.

It didn't take long to come to the conclusion that he needed to ask for help. Since only he could get Draco up to the standard he needed to be, and that was going to be a stretch to begin with, that left few options for Harry. He hated the idea of leaving Harry at the hospital wing under Madam Pomfrey's care - and Harry would hate it even more - so he had asked Mrs. Weasley for help. He figured that she was probably the only person Harry would feel comfortable around him during his chemo, however no matter how much Severus tried to justify it to himself, it still felt like he was passing off his responsibility for Harry.

"Severus," the Potions Master heard from the doorway bringing his thoughts back to the present. It was Draco coming down the stairs into the lab.

"Come in Draco," he said pointedly. "Take a seat and make yourself useful."

There wasn't another student, besides maybe Hermione Granger and one or two seventh years, he would trust to assist in his professional brewing, giving him no doubts Draco could help. The list of whom he could tolerate brewing with was practically non-existent, but Draco was here and he needed to get started on the hospital wing supplies being already so far behind.

"Do you think the headmaster believes me?" Draco asked much more nervously than either of his parents would want to hear from their child.

"I think had he not, you'd still be bound in that chair or worse, handed over to the Aurors," he wasn't going to start sugar coating things for Draco Malfoy. "Do you understand what you're getting yourself into?"

"Well, I don't really have much of a choice do I?"

"Of course you do," he sternly replied, stopping Draco from using too much lavender for the calming draught. "If you cannot concentrate, do not touch anything."

"He'll kill my mother and you know it," Draco continued, "if I don't take the mark."

"We can hide you both. The Order can," Severus explained solemnly. "He'd never find you."

Draco shrugged which was again not a gesture acceptable for any Malfoy. It showed the professor how disturbed his Slytherin was with the situation.

"You wouldn't do that," Draco was staring down at the mortar he was using almost too aggressively.

"You, Draco, are thankfully not me," Severus said honestly. "There's no shame in waiting this out; having a sense of self-preservation."

"That's interesting coming from the head of Slytherin," Draco spat back. "Why didn't you hide then?"

The former spy took a deep breath and ran his hand across his forehead wishing he could physically push his headache back, "My reasoning is between myself and the Headmaster."

A strained silence fell upon the room as Severus assumed Draco was running down the possible reasons he could have had to defect from the Dark Lord.

"No one knew," Draco broke the silence, "what side you were on." He added quickly.

"Well, that _was_ the point of it all."

"I don't even know if the Dark Lord believes it now or not."

"Until I'm summoned, which after this long I would probably choose not to answer, there's nothing I can do about it either way."

Draco finally met his Head of House's eyes, "That's the only reason you're not fighting me about this right? You know you need someone on the inside."

" _We_ \- Draco - don't forget what side you've placed yourself on now," he warned the young blonde in front of him, "and yes, I do believe we need someone on the inside. However, I'm hesitant to think a 16 year old boy should be that person."

"But there's no one else! I'm in the perfect position to do this. Plus you weren't much older than I am now when you started."

Severus didn't reply to that statement, no good could come from agreeing or disagreeing with the teenager.

Instead he changed the subject, "While the room you'll be staying in this week is technically connected to my quarters, remember you'll be under the Headmaster's watch at all times. Take that seriously. Where does your mother think you will be staying?"

"She hardly keeps track of me anymore, usually just leaves that to the house elves," Draco grumbled, "but she knows about my mission for the Dark Lord, and thinks I'm with Zambini before taking the mark."

Severus thought about what that implied about Narcissa, but in the end he knew she'd do anything to protect her son. So even if Draco's excuse was weak, at best, she wouldn't turn him over to the Dark Lord should she discover his change of allegiance.

The potions were finally completed and ready to bottle only a short time later. Draco stepped in to help bottle and cork each one then affixed the labels appropriately. That task alone was a tedious one, which Severus was grateful for the assistance.

Draco put away the last empty phial, turned to Severus and asked, "What's wrong with Potter?"

The potions professor looked at his student skeptically not giving away how heavy of a question that was, "Why do you think something is wrong?"

"Well, he's staying at the castle isn't he?"

"Obviously. His home was destroyed only last week," Severus held his hand up to prevent the younger Slytherin from interrupting him. "It does not concern you. Lesson one, do not get involved in things that do not directly concern you; it will only distract you from your actual goals."

Draco clenched his teeth, then went to speak, but the sphere that had been sitting on the table turned bright orange. Severus looked down at the sphere, then dismissed Draco to his room before the blonde could make a single comment. This was going to be an extremely complicated week.

~~~~HP~~~~

There was one thing Harry hadn't considered since arriving at Snape's quarters; with his broken leg he could not get to the loo quickly when he needed to sick up. It made for an extremely uncomfortable day for the young wizard. Fortunately, Snape came up with the idea to charm the pail so once vomit hit it, it would immediately clean itself out. This definitely made things a little better because the first 2 times Harry needed to use the pail, he'd accidentally dropped it trying to carry it to the lavatory with his crutches. This week was not looking good for him.

He spent most of his time awake thinking about which Malfoy had visited Snape's quarters. Since Lucius was in Azkaban, it was either Draco or Narcissa and in the end, he was certain it had to be Draco. What he couldn't figure out was why his nemesis would be here in the middle of the summer holiday. He went through about half a dozen scenarios in his head, none of which sounded plausible. The Gryffindor had no idea that just that afternoon, another door was added to the sitting room next to Snape's office and potions lab for Draco. It was hidden within the bookcases with hope that neither boy would have any reason to know of the others presence.

By midnight, although no closer to solving the Draco question, he finally finished his letter to Dudley. He placed the letter on the edge of his desk as a reminder to ask Snape to send it in the morning. In the letter, he apologized to Dudley for his role in his parents' death which was awkward; it probably would have been easier in person, but he doubted he'd see his cousin anytime soon. He also made sure to tell Dudley he appreciated their new found friendship, and that he hoped to keep in contact. Harry genuinely wanted to be able to visit with his cousin again since he was actually missing the time they had spent together.

He was able to fall into a restful sleep, which is exactly what his body needed before the week ahead. By seven o'clock the next morning, Harry was up and at the kitchen table trying unsuccessfully to avoid breakfast yet again. Snape was back to making him smoothies and was intent on watching him finish most of it. Mealtimes were easily becoming his least favorite part of the day.

"Take these," Snape said, sitting down the small cup of medications when a piece of parchment popped onto the table announcing Healer Smithe's and Madam Pomfrey's arrival.

"Here we go," Harry complained going back into his bedroom after taking his tablets.

Healer Smithe was once again going to walk Madam Pomfrey through how to administer the chemo using his port so that they could rotate who would come by throughout the week, at all hours of the day, to change the bags. The healer explained how it was important for the medi-witch to always wear special gloves when handling the medication because they were extremely toxic if it made contact with her skin. After all this time, Harry hadn't known that fact and suddenly the awful side effects made a bit more sense to him when envisioning what was happening when it entered his body.

"Will I be able to move around?" Harry asked what was sure to sound like a stupid question.

"Technically... yes," Healer Smithe tentatively answered, "but the stand has to go with you, so you'll need someone to help because of the crutches."

"That figures," Harry mumbled. Leave it to him to need a shadow all week and just like that his mood plummeted.

"I don't anticipate you'll want to, but just in case - you can't bathe during the actual treatments," his healer added. "You should plan on doing that in the hour break you get between sessions."

Harry didn't even nod an acknowledgement for that one. Where he currently stood, he couldn't care less if he bathed at all throughout the week.

"What comes after this week?"

"Well," Healer Smithe started, "you'll get one more intrathecal after this chemo round is completed and we'll do another bone marrow biopsy at the same time to see if remission has been reached. Then you'll get a week off to recover and get your blood cell counts back up. Assuming I don't see any more cancer cells in the biopsy, then we'll move to the next phase."

Harry looked over to Snape for some reason unknown to himself. It was like having someone beside him during this was helping make him stronger, "And what if there are still cancer cells?"

The healer paused working on getting Harry set up, to give the teen his full attention, "Then we start the induction phase again, likely with different medications this time."

Oh, that sounded frustratingly like starting over. Honestly, there wasn't much he could do to impact it one way or another though, so he tried not to dwell too much over it; he would cross that bridge when he got there.

By nine o'clock that morning, he was hooked up to the first bag of chemo medication having finished the antiemetic. His schedule for the next seven days was 9am - 7am chemo, one hour break, 8am - 9am supplemental medications such as the antiemetic and morphine, before starting back on the chemo. From his experience, the supplemental medications would not last anywhere near the full 24 hours and luckily Healer Smithe anticipated his unspoken question - should the tablet versions not help, they would add a separate IV line for those. While it was nice that a contingency plan was ready, Harry didn't like the fact that they thought he would need it.

Once Healer Smithe and Madam Pomfrey left, Harry was laying across his bed without much else to do. For as busy as the morning was, now that everything was set up and all the questions were answered, it was very quiet with only himself and Snape.

"Since you can't get around on your own," Snape broke the silence, "someone will be in the quarters with you at all times. I've changed the charmed sphere to be a general alert to whoever is here as well as a duplicate alert directly to me."

_Wait, so Snape doesn't plan on being here?_

"Where are you going to be?"

"Unfortunately Professor Dumbledore has time-sensitive work for the Order I need to complete. I'll be in the castle at all times, but I may not be in our quarters.

"I've arranged for Mrs. Weasley to be here tomorrow as unfortunately I'll be gone most of the day. I'll know more about the requirements once tomorrow is completed."

Harry couldn't help but feel a little twinge of regret that the professor wouldn't be here through all of this. He didn't know when they had crossed the line from pure hatred to - well, whatever this was; Harry couldn't put a name to it exactly - but deep down he wanted Snape here.

The professor and student spent the morning playing chess and going over Harry's summer assignments he had started so far. He grudgingly thought it was nice to have someone to look over his work before handing it in. Yes, Hermione always looked over his essays, but he couldn't help feeling bad because she had her own assignments to work on plus Ron's and his to read through. Conveniently, neither mentioned the Potions assignment.

By lunchtime, Harry was feeling like he was going to die. Yes, he knew that was an exaggeration, as Snape pointed out, but that didn't help him work through the nausea, vomiting, and pain. A piece of parchment popped up alerting them to Madam Pomfrey's arrival. Harry barely noticed her presence to change out his medication, but managed to fall asleep shortly after her departure.

~~~~SS~~~~

Each night since starting the continuous treatment had been worse than the last. Harry was either in too much pain, too nauseated, or too worked up to sleep, and even though he never asked Severus to stay up with him, he could tell the young wizard was grateful for the company. So together they would spend every night moving from Harry's bedroom to the sitting room and back trying to find ways to pass the time before Harry would finally be too tired and fall asleep.

The delicate balance Severus had put together came crashing down on Sunday night, or technically it was early Monday morning. Harry had just completed his 60th hour of chemo and yet again they found themselves moving from the bedroom back into the sitting room for the third time that night. Severus settled his young charge onto the sofa, lifting his casted leg up onto the coffee table - something he would normally not allow - and wrapped a blanket around Harry's upper body trying to help keep him warm.

"Why does everything in me hurt?" Harry had been trying to be so positive about this whole process, trying not to complain, but Severus could tell he was now at the end of his resolve.

"Let's play some chess, it will help distract you until the morphine starts working again," Severus pulled out the chess board and started to set it up knowing it was futile.

"I don't want to play anymore bloody chess!"

"Harry," he said sitting down next to the teen on the sofa, "you've got this. I'll call Healer Smithe and he can put the IV line for the morphine if you need it."

"No," Harry said so quietly the professor almost didn't hear him; his body trembling. "I want this to stop; I'm done, I can't do it anymore."

Harry had his head cradled in his hands and Severus could hear him struggling to keep the tears away. This left Severus with a heavy heart reminding him of those last couple of weeks in his old reality, but he kept reminding himself that at least this time they were actively fighting against the cancer, not just waiting for Harry to die.

"You can't stop now."

"It's my body," Harry lifted his head, meeting Severus in the eyes and there was no hiding the fact he'd been crying. "I don't want to do it anymore."

"You're still considered a minor child," Severus explained carefully, "you cannot make a decision like this solely on your own."

"So you're going to force me? What are you going to do, drag me to the Healer?" Harry spat back, not too dissimilar from the way the Harry from his reality fought against the muggle treatment. "Are you going to hold me down while he stabs the needle into my chest? It's so easy for everyone else to say I can make it and I'm doing great, but you guys aren't doing this! You have no idea what this feels like!"

Severus used his Occlumency to remain focused on what needed to be done; to get through the night. In his old reality he had parental consent over Harry and here being his medical proxy gave him some rights but he had no idea how much, especially because Harry was already 16.

"All I ask of you is that you do not make this type of decision at your lowest point. If you still feel strongly when you're feeling well again, then I promise we can discuss other treatment options with your healer."

Severus didn't know what from his answer triggered it - maybe the fact that he would eventually get a choice - but Harry hung his head in his hands and started crying. When Severus saw the small, almost imperceptible nod, he let go of the breath he'd been holding for far too long. It was in that moment, when he laid his arm across Harry's back, that Severus felt his Occlumency shields crack and a single tear escaped his eyes representing all the grief, frustration, and now relief he had locked up inside of himself. They may have made it by this hurdle, but how many more were coming up.

* * *

By Monday evening, Severus didn't think there was a time he had been any more exhausted than at that moment. Trying to coordinate between Draco's training and Harry's health was becoming too much for the normally well put together, stoic man. He couldn't continue training Draco during the day and then be up all night with Harry. Molly was already coming over most of the days during the late morning and into the afternoon to stay with Harry while he trained Draco and he couldn't ask anymore of her. He considered skipping a day training with Draco, but if this afternoon was any indication, Draco couldn't afford to take any time off, which left Severus with few options.

Draco was having a difficult time concentrating that afternoon during their advanced Occlumency lesson, which caused an already irritated Severus to completely lose his patience with his student. He knew Draco had been given more than the basic Occlumency lessons at home, which caused Draco to be far more arrogant than usual. When he badgered Severus to really test his limits beyond what they've practiced and, as expected, his defenses absolutely crumbled, he then accused Severus of not giving him a realistic test. In the end, Severus stormed out of the office and Draco knew better than to follow.

He came back into his quarters later than usual. Most days, he tried to be back by half past three which is when Harry's medication was changed and then he would immediately start dinner, primarily for himself as Harry was surviving off smoothies and the odd snack here or there. Today he wasn't back until ten past five o'clock and hoped to Merlin Harry was asleep. He didn't think he could keep a clear head after the frustrating afternoon he'd had. To his delight, he found Molly in the kitchen pouring bowls of stew for dinner.

"Severus! Perfect timing," she greeted him cheerfully, "dinner is ready; sit down."

She waved her wand and a chair moved back making room for the professor to take a seat as a bowl of stew was levitated over to him.

"Thank you Molly," he said, picking up his spoon. "I'm sorry for being late."

"It's not a problem," she waved her hand at him. "You have plenty of other things on your mind right now, I don't need to be one of them."

Molly sat down at the other end of the table with her own bowl of stew and bread. They sat in a companionable silence and Severus thought it had to be odd for the witch as it's not something his counterpart would have done. If she had any suspicion about him acting differently, she never mentioned it; of course Molly probably wouldn't.

"How was today?" Severus asked, no other explanation needed between them.

"It was rough," she said honestly, "but we managed. Healer Smithe came by to add the other line."

"Hopefully that will help. Has he eaten?" The last week of chemo before the attack was hard on Harry's eating, so he'd been very aware of how much or little he was eating now.

"I managed to coax enough into him," she smiled. "Did I tell you Charlie came home for the summer?"

The professor frowned, while they'd been friendly with each other for Harry's benefit, they definitely were not small-talk level friends.

"No, you hadn't," he wasn't sure where this conversation was headed, but he knew the 2nd eldest Weasley rarely visited.

"After the Department of Mysteries, when Ron and Ginny were..." She sighed as if it actually hurt her to explain it. Severus nodded his understanding to spare her. "Well, it seems he wants to fight now."

Severus gave a small chuckle, "We can use all the help we can get. I'm sure Albus is happy to have him join."

"Oh, he definitely is," Molly explained a look of sadness crossing her face, "but that's not why I told you. We've got a full house back home right now, with him plus Bill and Fleur, so if you'd like I don't mind staying tonight to help you out. No offense, but you look like your candle is completely burnt out at both ends."

The professor rubbed his forehead, "Are you sure?"

"Of course Severus," Molly smiled at him, "Harry is as good as one of my own children. I just hate there isn't much else I can do for him."

"Thank you Molly, I would very much appreciate that."

She stood up and squeezed his shoulder and said before walking out of the kitchen, "Wonderful. I'll go firecall Arthur now and let him know."

Severus tried not to feel guilty, but it didn't work. The Severus of this reality had spent most of his time hating and avoiding people at any and all costs and yet the Weasley matriarch had no qualms helping him out. He was so grateful, more than he'd ever be able to express to her in words.

He started the dishes washing and went to Harry's room giving Molly some privacy at the floo. Harry was thankfully sleeping and appeared peaceful for once. Whenever Severus asked Alton if Harry's reaction to the Chemotherapy was normal, the healer always came back with each person reacts differently plus with Harry being a strong wizard, there could be a chance it's exacerbating the side effects. To him, that sounded like he had no idea, which was almost more frustrating.

By 7pm, he was sitting in the armchair by the fireplace with Molly on the sofa. He was working on next year's curriculum which was due to the Board of Governors next week and Molly was knitting, when the sphere glowed orange. Severus was about to get up but Molly immediately scolded him to sit back down.

Placing the curriculum work down he leaned back and closed his eyes. He could fall asleep almost instantly right there on the armchair, but not only would it be extremely inappropriate, he had heard a door open from across the room.

"Who's there?" He knew who it was; only one other person had direct access into his quarters without using the front door, which would have alerted him, or the floo to his left.

"Um, sorry to bother you Severus," Draco sounded nervous, which was unbecoming of him.

The former spy opened his eyes to Draco standing behind the sofa, "You cannot simply enter my quarters unannounced. Please give me the courtesy of knocking or using the front door."

"I just wanted to ask you a question about our lesson today."

Severus stared at the blonde Slytherin and then gestured Draco towards the kitchen. On his way there, he glanced down the hallway where he could hear Harry vomiting once again. Not remembering if had told Molly about the ginger ale he bought yesterday on a quick trip back to Spinner's End, he went to the cabinet to grab a glass of it.

"Take a seat," he told Draco, summoning a bowl that he filled with stew and heated with a warming charm before placing it at Draco's setting. "I'll be right back and then we'll discuss what you failed to understand this afternoon."

Maybe he was being too harsh on the teen, but if he couldn't handle a little push from Severus, he'd break apart in front of the Dark Lord. Severus justified to himself that everything he did was to keep Draco alive. One day, unfortunately, the Slytherin would understand.

"You're supposed to be resting," Molly lectured when he walked into Harry's room. The young wizard's face was drawn and pallid with dark circles under both eyes and he was sitting up leaning over the edge of the bed taking short, shaky breaths.

"I wanted to drop this off," he held out the glass. "It's a muggle drink made with ginger. It seemed to help a bit the last time."

Molly took the glass and sniffed it, only slightly offending the Potions Master. She then handed it to Harry.

"Thank you sir," Harry said just above a whisper. "I'll be ok, go get some sleep. You look awful."

"Like you should talk," he argued back. "If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen."

Harry nodded, which turned out to be the wrong thing to do because just as Severus was walking out the door back to Draco, he started vomiting once again. Severus closed his eyes hoping for some relief for the young man soon.

He was calmer than he had been when he'd left Draco alone in his office after their training session, so with any luck he'd at least get something accomplished with Draco today. As much as he didn't like the idea of Draco spying, it was really the best option for the Order and the least he could do was get Draco in a position to succeed.

"So there's nothing wrong Potter huh? Sure doesn't sound it... and why the hell is Potter staying _here_?!" Draco asked the moment Severus walked into the kitchen.

"It doesn't concern you," he replied, taking Draco's empty bowl to the sink.

"I don't know about that. I am risking my life for him; I feel like I should at least have all the information," Draco said smugly.

"With your abysmal occlumency, you're lucky to get the small amount of information you already have," Severus warned, getting worked up yet again, "What do you think would happen if the Dark Lord saw something detrimental to _our_ side all because you _thought_ you had the _right_ to know?

"Get that righteous notion out of your head immediately Draco. From now on you're entitled to absolutely nothing, but you'll be expected to give everything; you'll do things that you will regret, that will make you sick, but have to turn around and appear to enjoy it all; you'll wish you could forget, but no matter how hard you try, you'll remember every face and every name of those you couldn't save. You'll be criticized and ostracized from both sides and the more that happens, the better the job you are doing. You'll need to be able to tell just enough of the truth not to get killed while protecting the important information with your life, and at the same time you will need to lie in a way that makes your audience believe they never had a reason to doubt you to begin with.

"If you _don't_ think you can do all of that without knowing everyone else's business first, then you better walk out of here right now and stop wasting my time," Severus slammed his hand on the table directly in front of Draco once he finished.

"Merlin Severus," Draco said startled, "I was just asking since he's the pillar of _our side_ , you would think if something were wrong with him, we should know."

"You're not to ask again, do you hear me? If you do, I'll go right up the Headmaster's office and tell him you're the wrong person for this job. Now get up so we can discuss just how much your supposed Occlumency skills were lacking today. "

"Yes sir," Draco finally said with a scowl on his face.

He followed his Head of House out of the kitchen back into the sitting room, realizing without a doubt that whatever was wrong with Potter was not only serious, but something the Dark Lord definitely shouldn't know about. Naturally, Draco was determined to find out exactly what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will not be a Drarry fic nor will it involve Snape adopting Draco, but he does play an important part of where the fic is going. Overall I haven't really thought about including pairings yet and if I do how much (if any) different they would be from canon.


	18. Malfoy

**_30th July, 1996_ **

Harry woke up Tuesday morning to the sun shining across his bed from the enchanted window and feeling the best he had since restarting chemotherapy. Mrs. Weasley had graciously stayed up with him until he finally fell asleep sometime around one o'clock in the morning mostly talking about the upcoming school year and when Ron would come by to visit again. Harry could barely remember the conversation thinking back on it now, but he thought she said Ron would be back with her tomorrow. She left shortly after breakfast, which Snape had prepared for the two of them as a show of his gratitude for her staying overnight. Harry even managed to eat about half of his yoghurt and toast; so as far as days go, this one was starting out great.

During his one hour reprieve from all the medications, he managed to take a quick bath - after all the sweating through the pain and vomiting, he was really starting to feel gross - which also helped tremendously with his mental outlook of the day. He was even getting used to his limitations in the cast and it didn't seem as much of an issue now overall. Madam Pomfrey had recently left ending her turn of the night shift and Harry was casually leaning against the arm of the sofa working on his Transfiguration assignment; summarizing their work on vanishing charms from the previous year. He figured it was a responsible use of his time feeling well.

The sofa was now practically imprinted with his body shape and Harry was surprised how comfortable he was becoming in Snape's quarters. In fact, in the little time he'd been here, it was already starting to feel more like home than Privet Drive ever did. He couldn't explain why that was; it had nothing to do with his chores and it wasn't as if the bedroom actually was all that different after Snape fixed up his old room before his first chemo treatment. Something here was causing him to feel as if this was where he belongs; maybe even belonged this whole time.

"Did we live here?" Harry asked, his voice filling the otherwise silent room. He was staring into the fireplace that always seemed to be lit because of the cold dungeon air, he shivered even though he was covered in a blanket.

If Snape was surprised by Harry's question, he did not react to it; he simply placed down what Harry thought were lesson plans the professor was working on. Harry almost laughed at the sight because every year he always assumed the professors simply taught the same lessons as the previous year - besides the Defense professor who never lasted longer than a single year. However, the parchment had what appeared like a detailed outline that had far too many markings on it for that to be the case.

"You had a room here, of course, but during the school year you stayed mostly in the tower," Snape tentatively said. The professor paused as if trying to determine if that amount of information was enough to have answered Harry's question.

The Gryffindor was pleased when Snape continued, "The first week or so of summer holiday we'd stay here in the castle while I closed up the classroom. We'd then go back to my childhood home in Cokeworth for the reminder of the summer holiday... Occasionally we'd go home for the Christmas or Easter holiday otherwise we'd stay here."

Harry closed his eyes trying to imagine what it would be like to have a place outside of the castle walls to really call "home". What had his room looked like at their home? What would it be like to not pack up all his worldly possessions every time he came to school? What did they do on a typical day? Did he ever have his friends over? Did they have a Christmas tree and Christmas lights? If so, did they decorate it together every year? There was a whole other life about him that, had he obviously not died, he would almost prefer to this one.

"Is my room now the same as what you left?" The teen could hear his heart beating in his ears as he continued to ask about the life they had built elsewhere. This one was an awkward question, but for some reason important to Harry.

"Yes, it is the same. No point in recreating the broom, so to say. Although if there's anything you would like changed, I'm sure that can be arranged."

"No, that's not what I meant. I love my room here-" Harry trailed off. He had a whole range of questions cross his mind, but instead of asking any of them he simply said, "I'm not him, you know. I don't know if I can be him."

Snape leaned forward so his arms were resting on the top of his legs and he gently stared into Harry's emerald eyes, the brightest they'd been in a week, "I don't expect you to be him, Harry. You have had a whole range of other experiences in this world that have drastically shaped who you are as a person.

"Please don't think I expect you to be him. All I ask is at the same time, you don't expect me to be the Severus Snape you knew here either as I am not him any more than you are the other Harry."

"Besides the whole not hating me thing, you're not really all that different," the Gryffindor said boldly, letting a smile cross his face.

Snape didn't respond to that, but the younger wizard hadn't expected him to. There was no point in denying that the Potions Professor Harry knew the last 5 years had, indeed, hated him.

"Wait a minute, if we lived in the house you grew up in, then my mum must have lived near there too," Harry was connecting the dots to things he thought he should have made a long time ago. In this other world, he essentially grew up in the same place his mum had.

"That's correct," Snape said quietly. "While she lived in a different part, I often walked to her house."

Harry could see the odd look of grief on his professor's face, but he suddenly had this longing to know more.

"I thought you hated my mum? You called her a... you know," Harry felt himself getting angry for the injustice against his mother even though it was not even in his lifetime.

"I did call her that and it was one of the worst days of my life," Snape hesitantly said with a heavy heart. "Before that day though, she was my best friend; my only friend really. We were practically inseparable."

Harry's breath hitched, but he stayed silent to allow the man to collect his thoughts.

It took about a minute, but Snape continued, "I was the one who told her she was a witch."

"Really?!" somehow Harry had forgotten that like himself, his mum would have had accidental magic and no idea why. He would have loved to have someone explain it to him before Hagrid managed to track him down, even if that person was Snape.

"Yes. Even at nine, I could tell she was going to be a powerful witch. She had such control over her magic even then," Snape said lost in the memory.

"So did you guys stop talking because she was sorted into Gryffindor?" Harry naturally assumed that was what drove them apart and given the environment between the houses now, he wouldn't blame either of them.

"Not at all," Snape explained, "In fact we managed to stay close friends despite the inter house rivalry. The memory you saw was what broke our friendship apart. I said what I did out of frustration and anger, but not towards her; I never thought of Lily like that even when I said it... Understandably, she never forgave me and that was it."

He could have been reading too much into the situation, but Snape sounded... almost... heartbroken; as if his mum may have been more than a friend to him.

_Was his Patronus a doe?_

Harry immediately tabled those thoughts for later, he had a lot of other things going through his mind to sort through. It was easy to be angry at Snape when he'd thought the Slytherin called her that name and they had hated each other, kind of like Hermione and Malfoy - but if they were close friends? It made the black and white situation a little more grey. He would never call Hermione that and if, for some reason he did, she would have every right to never forgive him. So then why was he feeling sorrow for Snape losing his best friend; he should have deserved it right? Of course, friends make mistakes too; what about the way Ron acted fourth year when he thought Harry had entered into the Triwizard Tournament? He forgave Ron for how he'd acted and they had known each other less time than Snape and his mum knew one another. It was all very confusing.

"Did I ever see it? Where Mum grew up?"

"Of course you did," the Potions Master said as if questioning why Harry would think he hadn't seen it. "I took you by there along with Godric's Hollow the first summer you stayed with me. Godric's Hollow is where your parents are buried; I take it you have not been to see your parents' graves."

It wasn't a question. Why would his relatives even consider taking him there? Harry shook his head.

"I'd like to go sometime," the Gryffindor said lightly. And it was true; he'd had this longing to visit his parents' final resting place, to feel close to them even in death. "Once I'm no longer held hostage indoors."

"Hopefully, this will be over soon and you'll rejoin your obnoxiously loud Gryffindors," he paused with a slight smirk to his face, "but I promise you, I will arrange a visit for you then."

"Sir? With my aunt and uncle... gone, what's going to happen with me? I doubt they assigned me another guardian." The unknown in front of him was sometimes overwhelming and he wished he could know what would happen in the end with him.

"I don't think Professor Dumbledore has had a chance to address that yet," Snape said carefully choosing his words.

A wave of anger hit Harry like a herd of hippogriffs, "Why does Dumbledore have so much control over me? Is he this involved with other orphaned students? Or is it only because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Snape's eyes narrowed, " _Professor_ Dumbledore is responsible for all the students' welfare in this school, but you do have certain... circumstances that require his involvement beyond that which might be considered normal."

Harry opened his mouth several times to start what was sure to be an immature response, but in the end he held it back. He'd said plenty in the Headmaster's office last year, which seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Because of the prophecy? Do you know about the prophecy sir?" Now that Harry thought about it, he'd mentioned it the other day and Snape never said anything one way or the other.

The professor's breathing shallowed, "Yes, I know of the prophecy, the majority of which comes from my other memories. And yes, I believe that has something to do with the Headmaster's interest in your placement." Snape leaned back in the armchair again silently hoping Harry would move on; neither of them would be able to handle the story behind the prophecy right now.

Another silence enveloped them as Harry tried to navigate his own wandering thoughts. How did he feel about technically being orphaned for the second time by the same person? Maybe he could get away without needing a guardian; simply become emancipated? He'd been taking care of himself his whole life anyway, what difference would this be? Could he find a place to live on his own that would protect him from Voldemort?

"If you have no other questions, I have to get some brewing done this morning," Snape explained tidying up his lesson plans. When Harry nodded he continued, "Molly won't be back today, but I'll still be very easily reachable here with the sphere should you need anything. This afternoon, I'll be working on the project for the Order in my office here instead of my classroom's office."

"That's fine sir," Harry said confidently, "It's probably the best day for it, I'm actually feeling loads better this morning."

"Then the medicine is actually working." Snape walked over and lifted Harry's chin to get a better look. Satisfied, he continued, "As I told you previously, you don't have to call me sir. While you're living here, if you'd like, _Severus_ is fine."

Harry thought about that and while he wasn't 100% sure he was completely comfortable with that, he couldn't deny the man had earned that right. Meeting his professor's eyes he said, "Yeah, that's ok. Thank you si- Severus."

Snape nodded in appreciation and summoned a glass of water which he placed on the table in front of Harry where a stack of school books and novels sat. "Do not try to get around on your own. Unless I hear otherwise, I'll be back at lunchtime."

Harry gave a small smile. As odd as it was for the teen, it felt good to have someone who cared how he was doing. For the first time since learning about Snape's other world while at Privet Drive, Harry could understand how a version of his 11-year old self could have ended up with this version of Snape.

"Trust me, I'm not going anywhere on my own."

Once Snape left, Harry tried to double down on completing at least one of his summer assignments. The problem was, he had a hard time staying focused; even after changing subjects to both Charms and DADA, he still didn't get much progress done. He switched gears to try to write to Ron and Hermione, but he didn't really have much to tell either of them in a letter.

Finally, after about two hours had gone by, he lowered himself further down the sofa and closed his eyes to try and sleep. Breathing deeply, he tried to clear his mind and not think about what was going on with his body. He went back to thinking about flying since that worked well before the biopsy. He was up on his Firebolt high above the trees feeling almost weightless zooming through the air. He could almost feel the wind against his skin.

It was working up until he heard the door close in front of him, somewhere near Snape's office.

"Severus?"

Harry's eyes shot open when he heard the one voice he would never expect or want to hear at this exact moment.

"Malfoy?" Harry tried to get up, but instead fell ungracefully to the floor with a hard _plunk_ and then called out "Shit!"

~~~~SS~~~~

It was amazing how much more a person could focus after only one good night's sleep. He went to bed much earlier than normal after telling Draco they'd go over his Occlumency training again this afternoon; he was nowhere near the right state of mind to discuss it with the young Slytherin. Each day, he got further from believing Draco could pull off such a subterfuge and not get himself killed in the process. He knew Albus was biased against his house, but surely the old man wouldn't send Draco to an early, and what was bound to be a painfully slow death - ironically a death Severus, himself, was currently avoiding.

The Potions Master finished up the first batch of potions for the infirmary with still about an hour to spare before lunchtime. He started to inventory his own supplies when the door to his lab was pulled open. Immediately on alert because no one should be in his quarters besides Harry - who was on strict orders not to move around alone - he quickly walked towards the stairs where he saw Draco at the top.

"Severus!" Draco called out his voice laced with panic; very unusual for the teen.

"What are you doing in here? Did I not make it clear last night that you were not to just show up in my quarters?" Harry had been left laying on the sofa and, unless he was sleeping, there was no way Draco came to the office unnoticed and even if Harry was sleeping, Draco would have clearly seen the Gryffindor.

"This is not the fucking time for a lecture," Draco ran his hands through his blonde hair. "It's Potter, he's on your floor bleeding everywhere."

Severus pushed Draco out of the way as he hurried up the stairs, out of his office, and into the sitting room. Harry was sitting up against the sofa holding his bleeding left hand which used to hold the IV of the antiemetic.

"I'm fine!" Harry called out when he saw Severus come through the door. "I fell off the sofa and the IV pulled out."

"Ripped out is more like it," Draco called from behind as if he had any idea of what was going on. "What is that thing and why was it stuck in your hand?"

"Stop," the professor warned Draco. Kneeling in front of Harry, he summoned a pair of gloves and examined the chemo line. "The port's still attached... that's good to see. Let's take a look at your hand."

Given Harry's lower than normal platelet count from the chemo, his blood was less likely to clot, thus his hand was indeed bleeding quite profusely.

"Draco," Severus called out, "Go firecall Madam Pomfrey. There's floo powder on the mantle. Tell her she's needed in my quarters immediately."

To Draco's credit, he only mildly sneered at the demand before walking over to the floo. Severus transfigured a couple pieces of parchment from the table into bandages and started wrapping Harry's hand.

"That was my Charms essay!" Harry complained, but stopped abruptly at the look Severus gave him. "It probably needed to be rewritten anyway."

"What happened?"

"Erm... I was caught off guard when Malfoy walked in," Harry said angrily. "What's he doing here and how did he get in?"

"We'll discuss that at a later time," he said as Madam Pomfrey came in through the floo. The bandages were already soaking through with Harry's blood.

"Healer Smithe should be here any minute, but let me have a look," she grabbed his hand and examined where the IV pulled back a chunk of his skin. Turning to Severus she asked, "I take it you don't want to heal this with magic?"

"No," Severus and Harry answered in unison. Severus peered over his shoulder at Draco who was intently watching this exchange. There was no way the Slytherin missed that statement; Occlumency was becoming more important by the minute for both boys.

"What do we have here?" Alton announced as he came through the floo.

"I fell," Harry explained scowling at Draco when he said it, "and my IV pulled out. I think most of the bleeding has stopped by now."

"The chemo line is still intact, I take it?" The healer asked, putting on a pair of gloves and just like Severus checked that first.

"Yes sir, I believe so." Harry held out his hand as the healer examined it.

"I'll just get this bandaged up for you and we can move the IV to your other hand. I'm going to give you something to help the clotting just in case." The healer took out all the necessary equipment and got to work bandaging Harry's hand.

"Severus," Draco called out, still standing out of the way by the fireplace. The professor walked over to his Slytherin. "Are you still going to claim there's nothing wrong with Potter? Just look at him."

"If you remember correctly, I did not tell you nothing was wrong," Severus corrected, "I told you it was none of your concern."

"Are you kidding me?" Draco called out. "He's going to get me killed."

"Unless you advance in your Occlumency, you are probably correct," the professor was running through different scenarios in his head, none of which ended well for Draco.

"I can do this," Draco called out. "You haven't even given me a chance yet."

Severus watched Alton restart the IV in Harry's right hand this time and then got him started on the next batch of chemo while he was here anyway.

"Let's go into the kitchen and get out of their way," Severus said, pushing Draco against his will.

Later that afternoon, the two Slytherins found themselves back in Severus's office after a grueling Occlumency lesson that left them both sweating and finally gave Severus a small sliver of hope that Draco can actually do this.

"Tomorrow, we'll be going over your observation skills. You need to be able to read a situation the moment you enter it and do so without the people around you even aware of it. That skill can easily save your life someday," Severus explained, "Then on Thursday we'll go over deceit, but I don't anticipate you having any issues with that."

"How very kind of you to say," Draco retorted, not sounding even a little insulted.

"Come to my quarters for dinner tonight," Severus said, "we'll discuss what happened earlier today with Potter because as much as I'd like to ignore it, neither of you will let it go." He could feel a headache coming on and wanted to get this day over with. When Draco nodded he added, "I have a meeting with the Headmaster to update him on your progress."

"And what will you be recommending?" He could hear Draco hold his breath in anticipation.

"That if you still want to go through with this, instead of going into hiding as I recommend, you will be ready."

It pained the professor to admit that. He never would have thought he'd be preparing to send a 16 year old into battle like this. Even when he had taken the dark mark himself a full two years older than Draco, he never imagined he'd end up risking his life as a spy. It was a difficult, thankless position that he risked his life for every time he stood before the Dark Lord. If someone had told him before he had the mark where he would end up, he probably would not have done it. His Slytherin self-preservation wouldn't have allowed it.

"Seriously Severus," Draco said leaning against the office wall, "How can Potter be The Chosen One if he can't use magic? Is he a squib now?"

He knew the question was coming and while he was determined to maintain as much of Harry's privacy on all his medical issues as he could, the lack of magic toed the line in what would be considered Order business. The Wizarding Savior can't very well save the wizarding world with no magic regardless of if Severus thought he should be the one to save it to begin with.

"We will discuss it tonight after dinner," Severus opened the door dismissing him. "Go get cleaned up."

Severus followed Draco out of his office and watched him walk back to his room while the professor continued on to Harry's bedroom. When he'd left after lunch, Harry was asleep in his room and he hadn't heard anything from the teen. He knocked and entered after hearing the soft, "come in" from inside.

Harry was sitting on his bed reading a book on defensive spells that Severus knew was not part of the Hogwarts curriculum.

"Doing a little light reading?" He asked sitting down at the bottom of the bed.

"Since I'm going to have to eventually not only face Voldemort, but actually win against him, I figured I should read all I can."

"From Miss. Granger no doubt?"

Harry smiled and nodded, "Yeah. When we started teaching the D.A. last year, she got this for me. It's really interesting."

"That's a highly recommended book on defense even if it's a bit above your level; it will definitely challenge you," he paused, "Are you still feeling ok tonight?"

"Not as well as this morning. I can tell when the pain medication is reaching the end and even after sleeping, I'm still completely exhausted. I just can't wait for this to be over and hope to Merlin himself I don't have to go through this again."

"Unfortunately, all we can do is wait and see," Severus said quietly, then carefully added the question he'd come in to discuss, "Do you want to stop the treatment?"

Harry immediately lifted his head from the book, worrying his bottom lip while taking a deep breath through his nose. Severus could feel the anxiety coat the room around them.

"No, I don't want to stop," Harry said not confidently but it was enough. "It's hard. So much harder than I ever expected it to be. But when I think that my other choices are not doing any treatments, which I'll still be in pain, and will definitely kill me or switching to potions where I may not feel so bad, but they have a high chance of killing me...

"I don't really have a choice if I don't want to die - which I don't - but in those worst moments, like yesterday... sometimes dying feels like the better option," Harry paused to collect his thoughts from his admission, "You're right though, I can't make a decision like that at my lowest point."

"It's good you can see that now," Severus said taking what he'd heard to heart and make a promise to check in with Harry more often, "we need to find some way to help you through those worst times because I'm sure we'll run into at least a couple more."

Observing how embarrassed Harry was, he added, "I'm... sorry for not telling you about Mr. Malfoy being in the castle."

Harry's face immediately closed up at the mention of his school nemesis. "Why's he here?"

Severus didn't answer immediately, "It's complicated."

"You can't trust him," Harry accused as Severus knew he would, but he also thought he sensed a touch of jealousy in the Gryffindor's voice.

"As the head of Slytherin, do you really think you need to tell me such a thing?"

Harry thought seriously about the question, then the teen smiled and said, "Could go either way."

"There are circumstances beyond my control, that brought him here," he was honest, "and I'm not, with good conscience, going to turn him away if he can provide any assistance to our cause."

Harry gave him a grim look.

"Let's go get some dinner. I've given in and ordered from the house elves tonight."

Harry grabbed his crutches and with Severus behind him navigating the stand, they made it to the kitchen. Severus noticed Harry was breathing harder than normal, so he helped the ill teenager over to the sink just in time before he could vomit onto the floor. Severus supported his weight all the way until the dry heaving was done, then helped Harry back to a chair, where the teen laid his head onto the table.

"I don't feel like eating," Harry mumbled into the table.

"Oh good, more for me," Draco said casually as he entered the kitchen. "Nice haircut Potter. It really brings out your scar; looks more like a scribbled _N_ then a lightning bolt though."

"Don't," Severus said to Draco. Harry just gave the blonde a murderous glare. "Sit down and eat, I want to get this over with."

~~~~HP~~~~

The day had started out so promising. Most of it had been relatively pain free and while the nausea and vomiting were awful, it was the pain that made everything feel unbearable, so it was nice to get some pain free time to catch up on school work, do a little reading, and get some restful sleep. Then Malfoy had to show up. What the bloody hell did they think letting him get involved in anything related to the Order? It was clear as day he'd been planted by the Death Eaters to spy on them and now he's got access directly to Harry.

_I'm the one with prophecy hanging over my head and they won't let me in the Order but they let Draco bloody Malfoy in?!_

He had assumed when Snape managed to get Malfoy out earlier today, he'd get the hint that they should not be allowed in the same room. Apparently not though because only a minute after sicking up, in the kitchen sink of all places, Malfoy strutted into the kitchen like he owned the place. Harry questioned to himself if Draco had been in Snape's quarters before.

Harry went to stand up because the last place he wanted to be was sitting next to a Malfoy; the scenes from the Department of Mysteries came flashing across his eyes. However, the moment he grabbed for his crutches, Snape pulled them away.

"Stay sitting right there," the professor said clearly angry. "I don't want either of you to say a word to each other, understood?"

"Yes sir," Harry mumbled at the same time Malfoy spat out "Fine by me."

"Draco," Snape glared over at Malfoy, "you are to stay out of these quarters unless I give you explicit permission to enter and I am present."

"But-" Harry started before he was interrupted by Snape.

"His door will be warded against entering unless I am physically in the sitting room," he explained, giving Harry just a little more comfort with the situation. At least Malfoy couldn't ambush him now.

"I don't understand how I'm the one risking my life and yet getting treated like a common criminal," Malfoy spat back.

"What the hell is he talking about?" Harry questioned looking between Snape and Malfoy, fury burning inside him.

"You didn't hear?" the blonde taunted, "I'm your newest informant."

"Oh hell no-"

"ENOUGH!" Snape finally shouted his eyes shifting between both teenagers.

Harry was watching Malfoy as if he would leap over and attack him right in the middle of the kitchen. Instead, he was surprised to see the ferret go about eating his dinner of Shepherd's Pie as if nothing had just occurred. Taking the hint, Harry started to slowly eat his bowl of chicken soup. It was an awkwardly silent dinner; the tension could be cut with a knife.

When all three of them had finished dinner, Snape left the kitchen and returned with a glass of what looked like firewhiskey and then stared between the two teenagers clearly not sure how to handle them. Harry felt like a child about to get scolded.

"Draco," the professor finally said with his mask of calm in place, "as I mentioned yesterday, get used to always being treated like a potential traitor on both sides; it comes with the territory. If you can't handle it, get out now while you're still clean." Harry didn't miss Snape eyeing Malfoy's left arm. "Under no circumstances will you mock Mr. Potter's current ailments."

"Yes, sir."

"Harry," Snape didn't sound as disappointed as Harry had expected him to, "in times of war, you have to take calculated risks. Right now, not only are we in a time of war, but we're not exactly leading in it either. We cannot afford to turn away the opportunity Mr. Malfoy is offering to provide us. He will only be in the castle until the end of the week, you can survive for this short period of time."

"Understood, sir."

"Good, now that that's out of the way let's move on."

The rest of the evening was spent going over what happened at the Privet Drive attack, which Harry was finally happy to hear did not involve any deaths for the Order, however Mundungus Fletcher was seriously injured, and Draco's new role in the Order including what to expect when receiving the Dark Mark. Harry shivered at the details Snape provided from his own initiation, but didn't feel an ounce of sympathy towards Malfoy. When Healer Smithe stopped by to adjust Harry's medications, Harry could tell Snape wanted him to say something, but the Gryffindor refused. If Malfoy wanted to know what was going on, he could either ask Harry himself or do some research on his own. Harry would pay a whole lot of galleons to see Malfoy looking through muggle textbooks; extra if he asked Hermione for help!

By the time he should have been going off to bed, he was too wound up to sleep. With people coming in and out throughout the day and night, sleeping on and off whenever he was tired, and constantly staying in the dungeons, it was hard to keep normal sleeping cycles. He wondered how long it would take him to go back to normal once all this was done.

It was quarter to midnight when there was a light knock at his door and Snape walked in.

"I saw your light on," the professor said, taking a seat at the desk. "I figured you'd be exhausted after everything today."

"I slept a lot this afternoon, plus the morphine is wearing out and I'm not ready for more yet," Harry said only telling half the truth; the other half was because being so close to midnight, he wanted to wait up to see his 16th birthday. "Why should I trust Malfoy?"

"I never said you should."

Harry hadn't expected such a blunt, honest answer. He gave a half smile, "Definitely not what I expected."

Snape pulled out a deck of playing cards silently asking Harry if he wanted to play. Harry nodded; it wasn't like he was going to be sleeping anyway.

"What I said," Snape continued, "was that he's the best option we have right now. Trust me, Moody put him through a thorough interrogation and while I don't completely trust him, I do believe he won't do us intentional harm."

"Why?" Harry asked with more of an attitude than he probably should have had, "why the sudden change in him?"

"A person revealing his or her reason for defecting from the life they've grown up apart of is as personal as you revealing your own issues about your health. I cannot be the one to tell you; if you're that curious ask Mr. Malfoy yourself, but be prepared for him to want something from you in return."

Explained like that, Harry could almost understand. While he has never had issues distinguishing the moral from the immoral, he did have plenty of things he preferred not to tell anyone about himself.

"Does he know about your other memories? Where you came from?"

"No," Snape said, meeting Harry's eyes, "As of now only you and Albus know about that and I plan to keep it that way. While there is not much I can do hiding at Hogwarts, I can even less locked up in St. Mungo's."

Suddenly, the clock in the room rang that it was midnight. Harry looked over at it happy to be 16. While he would never be returning to the Dursleys, it felt good to know he only had one more year until he was finally an adult.

"Happy birthday Harry." The Gryffindor was beyond surprised that Snape of all people would know it was now his birthday. At Harry's confused look, Snape added, "I may be in a different reality, but I still remember spending 5 years with you, waiting up until midnight on the 31st of July."

"Thank you Severus," he said, genuinely grateful and equally amazed.

"You are welcome. Mrs. Weasley asked me if she could bring Ron and Hermione over tomorrow for your birthday. She wanted to have everyone, but I told her this was not the time for a gathering like that," he started to clean up their card game since neither one was paying any attention anymore, "but obviously that will depend on how you feel tomorrow. If you're not up for the company, we can always wait until closer to term."

Harry sat back into his bed. It would be nice to have his friends there for his birthday especially if he was feeling as well as he did today. His birthday was so often overshadowed, at best, or simply forgotten, at worst, while living at the Dursleys.

Deep in thought about Ron and Hermione, while trying to keep away thoughts of Malfoy, he hadn't noticed, at first, that Snape was handing him a conservatively wrapped gift. It was wrapped in royal blue paper and the size of a large book; he felt his face flush.

"Sir, you didn't have to get me anything," the Gryffindor said, taking the gift from his professor.

"It's not much; go ahead and open it."

Harry carefully started unwrapping to reveal a plain brown box. Inside the box was a high quality wand holster for his arm and a leather notebook with _Harry J. Potter_ inscribed in the lower right corner. Harry was speechless; not only did he not expect a single thing from his professor, but these were gifts that clearly the man put a lot of thought into. He pulled the wand holster out, tracing his finger over the straps.

Understanding the unspoken question in the young wizard's eyes, Snape simply said, "I believe you'll still have plenty of magic when all of this is over."

"You can't know that," Harry said sadly.

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_Harry had already been living with him for about a month and Severus was surprised at how quickly they'd fallen into a routine together. It now felt completely natural to be walking upstairs to check on Harry before he turned in for the night._

_The renovations to his childhood home took up most of their first couple of weeks since Harry was adamant that if he was living here he wanted to help. With magic taking care of the most demanding parts and a bit of sweat equity on the rest, they had a respectable, if still small, home and managed to do a little bonding in the process. Severus learned that Harry liked the color blue, closely followed by green - but not Slytherin green - and that he genuinely liked to read. Harry learned that Severus naturally loved to cook because of how much it's like potions and he hated the taste of coconut. Against all odds, in those first few weeks Harry had started to trust and depend on Severus._

_One night after dinner when the last of the painting had finally been completed, it felt natural to tell Harry about his friendship with Lily. He told Harry about when he first met Lily at the playground, not far from their current home, when they were nine and about how he introduced her to magic. Harry had told him that he wished someone would have done that when he had started doing accidental magic. Instead his first introduction to magic was the Dursley's severe punishments for it; for something that was normal and beyond any young wizard's control. Severus resisted the urge to comment on the young boy's statement, choosing to squeeze his hand into a tight fist hidden from view._

_He told Harry all about his mother; how kind hearted she was, about her infectious laugh, and how intelligent she was. Harry asked about her favorite color - it was purple; what her favorite class was- definitely charms; and her favorite hobby - art; she had been an amazing artist. It was then that Harry told Severus he used to draw in primary school; that he was pretty good at it and he really enjoyed it. On the one hand, Harry was so much like Lily, it saddened the man to think about how he almost missed it, but at the same time he's got his own completely unique personality. If things had gone differently, he could have continued to see the carbon copy of James and would have missed the chance to get to know Harry - both as Lily's son and on his own. There were so many ways this could have ended differently._

_It was about ten to midnight on the 30th of July and tomorrow was Harry's 12th birthday; the first one he'd be spending as Harry's guardian. Severus knew he likely never had a true birthday celebration based on what he'd learned about the Dursleys, but had no idea that the Dursleys never even acknowledged the day. Not sure about what Harry would want to do on his birthday, he'd planned a small gathering with the Weasley's and Hermione Granger for the afternoon._

_Tonight though, he had just checked the wards after doing some reading and was now heading up to bed. Every night he checked in on Harry and he expected tonight to be no different, but when he reached the top of the stairs he saw the light still coming through the bottom of Harry's door._

_"Harry?" He asked quietly while cracking the door open. Harry's room was small and still needed some of Harry's personalization, but the light blue walls were inviting, the bed was clean and comfortable, and the bookcase was full of books Harry picked out from the sitting room downstairs._

_The small boy jumped in surprise. He was wearing a set of blue pyjamas Severus had gotten for him the first week they'd been back home. It had been an awkward shopping trip, but eventually he'd managed to get Harry clothes that not only fit him, but weren't falling apart with holes._

_Harry was sitting up in his bed reading through one of his textbooks, "I'm sorry sir, did I keep you up?"_

_"Not at all," the professor said sitting down at the end of the bed, "I was just coming up and noticed you were still awake. Is everything ok?"_

_"Oh..." Harry's face flushed and when he looked over to his clock, Severus could guess what he was waiting for._

_"Do you normally wait up for your birthday?"_

_Harry rewarded the Potions Master with a smile, "It's kind of my birthday tradition. The only one I have really. But if you need me to go to bed..."_

_Severus let out a small, uncharacteristic chuckle, "Staying up late one night over the summer hols is not going to kill you."_

_The clock from the downstairs rang midnight and Harry looked out his window as if he were making a birthday wish._

_"Happy birthday Harry," Severus said and waved his wand summoning in a small box wrapped in green - but not Slytherin green - paper._

_"You didn't need to get me anything sir," Harry said as Severus placed the package on his bed._

_"Why would you think I wouldn't get you something?" Harry gave him a questioning look as if this were the strangest encounter they'd had yet. "And as I've said, you can call me Severus... at least when we're outside of school. Go ahead, open it."_

_Harry carefully tore off the wrapping paper to reveal a box. The Gryffindor smiled when he opened it and saw a notebook with "Harry J. Potter" in the upper right hand corner and set of art supplies._

_"I love it," he called out, "Thank you Severus!"_

_"You are very welcome Harry," he said. "I have a feeling you have a hidden talent."_


	19. Happy Birthday?

Unfortunately for Harry, he woke up on the morning of his birthday feeling absolutely dreadful. Since Snape still had to work with Malfoy in the afternoon, Mrs. Weasley would be stopping by to stay with him. Even though Snape didn't agree, he'd told her that Ron and Hermione could join her at Harry's insistence. Being able to see his friends on his birthday would help him forget how sick he was feeling after having a day like yesterday and knowing Ron and Hermione, they would want to be here with him regardless of how sick he was.

So that morning, once he had a small breakfast and his healer left, Harry excused himself to try to get some sleep. With only two days left of his induction chemo, he really just wanted to do whatever he could to get through it; and right now that meant sleeping as much as possible and getting to visit with his friends. Snape was keeping a closer than normal eye on the young wizard picking up on the fact that Harry was feeling frustrated for the seemingly backwards step in his recovery.

He awoke right around lunchtime to the smell of flowers, specifically lilies, in his room. He could hear whispering throughout the room that could only be his two best friends. Peeking his eyes open, Hermione and Ron were sitting on the floor beside his bed and appeared to be reading, and discussing something Harry couldn't make out; neither aware that he was awake.

"Hey guys," his voice cracked as he sat up on his elbows. If possible, he felt worse than when he fell asleep.

"Harry!" Hermione called out standing up so quickly the book on her lap crashed to the floor with a loud bang. Harry cringed at the noise echoing against the stone walls.

"Calm down 'Moine," Ron laughed at her customary hysterical greeting.

"I've just been so worried and it's so good to finally see you," Hermione handed Harry his glasses then sat down on the bed right next to him, "I've been researching all about Leukemia and Harry it's so rare for a wizard to get."

"Yeah," Harry half smirked instantly feeling more comfortable with his two best friends next to him, "I think I've heard something like that."

"Of course you have," she sounded embarrassed, "I didn't mean..."

"It's fine Hermione, seriously."

"Happy birthday Mate," Ron said standing up and pulling a chair next to the bed. "We wanted to have a small party, but Mum said it wasn't a good time. Once you're feeling better though, we'll make it up to you."

"I don't doubt that," Harry was playing with a small thread from his bedspread, "I have a feeling Snape wouldn't be too happy with the Weasley clan filling up his quarters anyway."

"You're probably right... The git," Ron laughed lightly.

"What were you guys doing?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject.

"Can you believe Ronald hasn't even started on his summer assignments?" Hermione lectured completely appalled that he hadn't even looked at them.

"Oh c'mon," Ron whined, "I'm sure Harry hasn't started his either!"

"Well, he has a good reason, don't you think."

"Actually," Harry interrupted, "I have all of them at least started except Potions. And that's only because I didn't want to start an essay when I might not get into the NEWT class."

Hermione glared at Ron, then they all started laughing. Harry held back a grimace from the pain; it felt so good to laugh, he didn't care that it hurt to do so.

"Oh, Harry you reminded me-" Ron groaned at Hermione's exclamation, "Have you gotten your O.W.L. results yet?" Leave it to Hermione to ask about schoolwork and test marks on his birthday.

He shook his head going with his standard answer, "I don't think they're going to know where to send them. And it's not like they matter too much anyway, I don't even know what classes will look like for me now."

"Don't say something like that Mate," Ron laughed, "Hermione might have fit."

"Seriously," the bushy haired Gryffindor said, "we got ours this morning, I bet yours either got here this morning too or will be here tomorrow."

She seemed way too excited to Harry, but he knew this was the kind of thing she lived for so he didn't comment on it.

"I take it you did amazing?" Harry asked.

Hermione blushed, "Well..."

"Of course she did!" Ron interrupted with a hint of pride in his voice. "She got O's on 'em all."

"No. I only got an E in Defense."

Ron just rolled his eyes at that. The three Gryffindors sat around talking and Harry tried to make it feel like it could have been any normal day, except it was far from normal. Ron had to help to get Harry to the loo and back, which was a significant improvement over Mrs. Weasley - he couldn't quite relax enough with her sitting outside the door listening in on him. Then, when he started getting nauseous and sicked up a couple of times, Hermione was right beside him with a glass of water so he could rinse his mouth; all the while amazed at how Snape managed to charm the bucket to self-clean.

They had lunch with Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen and Harry was surprised to find that he was disappointed Snape wasn't there. He assumed the professor was likely having lunch with Malfoy, a thought that made him angry for reasons he could not yet figure out.

Once they finished lunch, Hermione helped Harry to the sitting room where she was introduced to Healer Smithe and proceeded to pepper the poor healer with questions on muggle medicine in the wizarding world. What was it like being an adult wizard, but living in the muggle world? How could one get a dual healing/medical mastery, does it require separate studies? And probably the most important to Harry, how will they monitor how his magic is handling the chemotherapy effects? That was probably something _he_ should have asked when they started all of this. The answer was that they intended on doing "status checks" on it throughout his treatment, so that was something to look forward to.

_At least I'll know pretty early on when I lose it._

Hearing that thought in his head was the hardest part of the day. Regardless of what Snape said, he couldn't help but think something bad was bound to happen to the magic within him.

He tried to play a game of wizard's chess with Ron, but he had to keep stopping when he was sick and losing his concentration. Today it was like his insides were trying to burn their way out of his body and no matter what he did or which medicine he used, it just wouldn't stop.

"Are you ok Harry, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked when Harry was leaning against the sofa holding his side instead of making his next move.

"I'm sure... it's fine," Harry replied worry seeping from his voice no matter how hard he tried to contain it.

"Are you nauseous?" Hermione kneeled down in front of Harry examining his eyes. She reached her hand out and lightly touched his forehead checking for a fever having read about how easy he could get sick.

Harry just shook his head side to side; it wasn't nausea this time around.

"I think we should call Professor Snape," Hermione added. "You don't look well Harry."

"No," Harry said firmly. He didn't want to interrupt Snape from whatever he was working on with Malfoy. "I never look well anymore Hermione. It'll be fine, let Professor Snape be."

"Ronald," Mrs. Weasley eventually said while keeping her eyes focused on Harry, "put the game away and let Harry try to get some sleep. You have plenty of school work to keep you busy the rest of the afternoon."

As nice as Mrs. Weasley's intentions were though, that didn't mean that Harry could rest. Only fifteen minutes later, he was laying on his back on the couch, small moans escaping his lips.

"Isn't there something you can do for him Mum?" Harry could hear the worry in his friend's voice too. This was far worse than any of the other times Ron had seen Harry sick.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head, "He can't have potions and I don't know anything about muggle medicine. I'm calling Severus and hopefully he can get the healer back here."

After squeezing the sphere, Snape came bustling into his quarters in the same manner he usually did on the first day of classes. He had a scowl on his face as if he was angry to be interrupted. Harry felt the familiar anxiety filling his chest from just the sight of the man in front of him.

"What is it," he demanded walking up to the sofa where Harry was laying.

"Not sure... Sir. It feels like... burning," Harry managed to say.

Snape narrowed his eyes at the teen clearly in pain for some reason or another. He looked to Mrs. Weasley as if she was the one that should be caring for him right at that moment.

"Can you call the healer?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "Unless there's something else he can take."

Rubbing his forehead, Snape just stared between Harry and Mrs. Weasley questioning in his head why this was happening today of all days. Unable to find another solution, he went to the floo and threw down the floo powder with more force than necessary to call Madam Pomfrey and Healer Smithe.

"Ron dear," Mrs. Weasley said calmly, "Can you and Hermione help Harry to his bedroom? I imagine he'd be much more comfortable there then out here on the sofa."

Harry nodded, but it was more because he didn't want to be in the same room with the irate potions professor than for his physical comfort. He was going to feel this pain no matter where he was, but he could avoid the explosive anger he was bound to be subjected to in the sitting room.

"What's up with that greasy git today?" Ron exclaimed the moment Harry's bedroom door was closed. "And where is he going every afternoon my mum is here?"

Harry closed his eyes as he leaned against his pillows, "It's something... for the order."

While Snape never explicitly said he couldn't tell his friends, Harry naturally assumed no one should know about Malfoy and his situation. He also couldn't handle Ron's inevitable outburst when he found out about it.

"He's in pain," Hermione said seemingly out of nowhere.

"Clearly!" Ron gestured to Harry who was still writhing on his bed trying to find a position that didn't hurt his insides.

"I don't mean Harry," Hermione sighed looking over to Harry, worried about her ill friend, "Professor Snape - it's obvious he's in pain. I'm guessing from whatever he's doing for the Order."

What could Malfoy do that could possibly injure Snape? Or was there something else he was working on that he didn't tell Harry about? There was bound to be loads of things he wasn't aware of and it was better to think about those possibilities instead of his bad mood due to Harry's condition inconveniencing him.

A soft knock was heard outside his door and Hermione went to open it. In bustled Snape, Mrs. Weasley, Healer Smithe, and Madam Pomfrey; Harry felt like a zoo exhibit yet again. Ron and Hermione were pulled away from Harry by Mrs. Weasley to the other side of the room.

"They should leave," the Potions Master spat at Mrs. Weasley.

"We don't want to leave!" Ron stood up taller to appear less intimidated by the professor. If Harry weren't lying on his bed in pain, he would have been proud of his friend for standing up to Snape like he did.

"This isn't about what you want Mr. Weasley," Snape growled before yelling, "now leave!"

Hermione pulled on Ron's arm and they both left for the sitting room.

"After accompanying them home," Snape said to Mrs. Weasley, "I need you to return." The professor didn't want to say so in front of his young charge, but he was in no condition to look after him today.

"Of course Severus," the motherly redhead said with more compassion than he deserved, "I'll be right back." She looked over to Harry with a heavy heart as the healer and medi-witch were working over him.

Harry could feel all sorts of diagnostic scans running through his body. Some of them simply scanned the surface while others he could feel deep into his organs and bones. Healer Smithe took several vials of blood to examine via muggle tests back at his office. The whole time, Snape stood right behind the two as they worked.

"I told you, I don't think he is having a normal reaction to the chemo this time," the man was angry that his previous concerns had gone unheard.

"Severus," Healer Smithe started to explain, "there's no real _normal_ when dealing with a situation like this. Nothing on the scans are showing anything that would cause a reaction like this besides the side effects from the chemotherapy."

Harry could almost see the fumes coming off of the professor. He didn't think he'd seen the man this angry, not even after the pensieve incident.

"Are there stronger pain medications you can give him? Or can he cease the rest of the continuous chemo?"

"With only a day and a half left, and having it more or less under control before now, I'd like to see if we can get him through it," the healer kindly said, pressing his fingers across his forehead. "I'll be back with a stronger dose of Morphine, but it's the absolute highest I feel comfortable prescribing for him. If this doesn't work in a relatively short amount of time, we'll cut the chemo early and reevaluate."

If he didn't feel like he was being ripped apart from the inside out, he would have been relieved at the thought of all of this ending early. He was vaguely aware of the healer leaving and returning only a short time later. There was a rustling next to his bedside as the bag of medication was prepared, and at some point a wet flannel was placed across his forehead which had beaded up with sweat.

The next thing he knew, the fire inside of him was dying out and he could breathe a little easier with each breath he took. His eyes started to grow heavy and he didn't know if it was the new pain medicine making him drowsy or the fact that his body was completely physically exhausted now that the pain was subsiding. In the end, it didn't matter because he wasn't going to stop the blissful sleep that was overcoming him.

~~~~SS~~~~

It had to be today that Severus felt, for the first time since the Privet Drive attack, his dark mark burn. The summons came right after Harry had gone to rest before the Weasleys and Miss. Granger came over. Thinking quickly, the former spy went to the floo and asked Albus to come through to discuss their options. The Headmaster arrived in a modest set of dark red robes and a smile on his face that immediately faded once he heard the reason behind the visit.

"At this point, I think it's best not to answer the summons," he explained to the leader of the Order. "If the Dark Lord has not wanted an explanation by now, it's unlikely I'd be given much time for one if I appear before him."

"I must say I agree with Severus," Albus sadly confirmed pacing in front of the fireplace. "Do you have a way to handle the effects when it goes unanswered?"

The Potions Master shook his head, his black hair falling across either side of his face. "Unfortunately even a high dose pain draught won't stop that of the dark mark. I'll have to start modifying the formulation or else I'll lose my sanity before long."

"Of course," Albus nodded his agreement. "Please do not hesitate to let me know if you need assistance securing any specialized ingredients you may need. I'm sure Pomona would be more than willing to help."

Severus gave a calculated look at the older wizard. The last thing he wanted to do was explain to one of his colleagues why he needs speciality class plants grown that would never be used inside a standard classroom. While each professor was allowed to use the school's resources for non class related projects, most of the time it was professional research work, not personal.

"I heard you had a rather exciting day yesterday," Albus continued quite idiotically in Severus's opinion, "I take it young messrs. Malfoy and Potter have gotten reacquainted?"

"Obviously, otherwise we would have had no issues. I told you it was not advisable to have them both here at the same time." Severus wanted Draco to stay at Grimmauld Place and it would have prevented that very occurrence.

"You worry too much Severus," the headmaster casually commented, "I don't see any issues in allowing some camaraderie to grow."

"Camaraderie? Are you mad? They're going to kill each other," Severus threw his hands in the air as if giving up.

"Hardly so. Harry cannot do magic right now."

"That's a technicality. So then Draco will simply kill him," Severus was still not amused; while fighting the pain in the dark mark was not the time to have this conversation.

"Not if he wants our help," the Headmaster smiled. He decided to change the subject, "I've been thinking about your unique predicament Severus, and if there's any way we can use it to our advantage."

The Potions Master narrowed his eyes and frowned, "I told you, in my reality the Dark Lord hadn't even come close to coming back, so how can my situation be of any help? Trust me, if I knew how to kill the evil bastard I would have told you by now."

"Yes, I do believe you would have, but you're missing a key part of your statement my boy," Albus's eyes twinkled, "you prevented his rebirth and I can't help but wonder if you arriving here can in some way help us with our Voldemort problem."

And so they spent the morning going through the differences between key moments in the timeline and they always ended up back to the same conclusion. The fact that Severus had been a constant, stable adult for Harry was the difference in preventing Voldemort's return. However, no matter how many times they went through it, they could not think of how Severus being in this reality could help against Voldemort - besides the obvious that had he not been here, Harry would likely be almost dead from the Leukemia.

Eventually, Mrs. Weasley arrived with Ron and Hermione, so they needed to table the discussion for later. Albus stayed to have a cup of tea with the Weasley matriarch while Severus moved to his laboratory to start developing some way to ease the pain of the dark mark which had not lighted up at all.

He wrapped the mark in a charmed bandage to stay cool, however trying to focus through the burning was not only difficult, but it put him in a foul mood. He ruined two attempts at a revised pain potion and one attempt at a revised burn paste by making mistakes that would rival Longbottom, which only added to his rage. Training with Draco hadn't gone any better. While Draco handled the almost-too-aggressive Legilimency appropriately, the professor still felt the need to lecture Draco on his abysmal performance and went into great detail about how likely he was to get himself killed.

It was in the middle of their observation training, when the sphere glowed red, the color to indicate a severe problem, and given Severus's mood he took his anger out on everyone that walked in front of his path. While Alton had been assuring him that Harry's reaction to the chemo could be classified as normal, Severus didn't believe him and now his young Gryffindor was writhing in pain on his bed. It took all his might not to rip out all the lines currently running into Harry's body just to end his suffering - ironically, something he could not do for his own situation.

With all the scans showing no abnormalities, there wasn't much else Alton could do besides increase the morphine. Severus hated that there wasn't anything they could do to stop the cause of the pain, but with only a day and half of the chemo left for this round, hopefully Harry's frail body would be able to recover enough next week to re-stabilize. At this point, Harry was asleep and Mrs. Weasley had agreed to stay while Severus was locked away in his bedroom because it was obvious he wasn't clear headed enough to safely aid Harry should he need it.

The dark mark didn't cease burning until dinnertime. Harry hadn't woken up once during that time and Severus found Mrs. Weasley on the sofa knitting a green jumper in the sitting room when he finally escaped from his bedroom.

"Everything ok dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked once he was seated in the armchair to her left. Having taught all of her children, it was always odd to be reminded that she was, indeed, older than him.

"Hopefully with time," he said honestly holding his head in his hands. "How is Harry?"

"Still sleeping, thankfully," she said looking back towards his bedroom. "What do you suspect was going on?"

"No idea, but if nothing is physically wrong I'm leaning towards it being something magical," he hated to admit what was going through his mind. "Maybe his magic has been fighting against it all along and this was its one big push...I don't know. It's really anyone's guess, but I'll discuss it with Albus. If anyone can find something, I'm sure he can."

"Poor thing," Mrs. Weasley mumbled, secretly referring to both the professor and student.

~~~~HP~~~~

His whole body ached as if he had been under the Cruciatus Curse. That was the first thought he had when consciousness came back to him. Trying to think back to what happened he could only put bits and pieces together - it was his birthday, Ron and Hermione were here, Snape was angry, he was in pain. Thankfully he was in less pain now, but ached everywhere instead.

Opening his eyes, his room was dark; there was only one small lantern lit on the other side of the room. Immediately looking to the enchanted window, he was confused to see it completely blank.

_Why would someone turn it off?_

He reached over and grabbed his glasses unceremoniously shoving them on his face and saw the sight of his professor sleeping slumped over in the armchair beside the bed using his robe as a blanket. In the man's lap were several pieces of parchment, the topmost reading _Draco Malfoy_ with _Albus Dumbledore_ directly beneath it. It was obvious that they had tried to visit and Snape had either ignored or slept through the alert.

He cleared his throat, happy to see a glass of water on the desk. Sipping the water was pure bliss on his parched throat and the first indication he'd been asleep for longer than he normally slept.

"Severus," he called out to no avail. The man was completely passed out, but his chest rising and falling at least showed a sign that he was alive.

Harry really considered just going back to sleep, but he had to use the loo really bad. His port and IV were still attached and he couldn't really use the crutches and pull the stand at the same time. He sat up, swinging his legs across the bed, trying to ignore his aching muscles in the process. He looked around for the sphere, but it was nowhere near him.

_What the hell happened?_

"Severus," he called a little louder but again it went unnoticed. That was the wrong thing to do because he barely had time to grab for the pail next to his bed before he vomited mostly bile from his empty stomach.

Suddenly, a figure appeared at the door and picked his head up to see, his face went into an immediate scowl. It was Malfoy.

_He's like a cockroach, I can't get rid of him!_

"How did you get in here?" He demanded quietly, so as not to wake Snape although he doubted he could if the professor had slept through everything so far.

"The headmaster let me in. After Professor Snape didn't answer any of our messages; we were worried," the blonde teen explained.

"What happened to him?"

Malfoy shook his head, "I think he took a sleeping draught. All I know is when we got here you were both passed out like this."

"And Dumbledore left you here? Alone?"

"Of course not," Malfoy said highly offended, "Professor Dumbledore was here with me until a couple of minutes ago. I have to say, your timing really is awful."

Harry thought about his options, if he didn't get to the loo soon he'd have far more things to be embarrassed about than asking Malfoy for assistance.

"It's not like I had a choice in it," he spat back. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes he asked, "Can you at least give me a hand to the loo?"

The horrified look on Malfoy's face was _almost_ worth having to ask him for help.

"All I need you to do is follow me in with this-" he held onto the stand next to him, "-and then leave once I'm in there. The room is small enough for me to get around."

Malfoy looked from Harry to the lavatory door and back.

"Fine, Potter" he spat, "but if you tell a single person, I'll make your life a living hell."

Harry shook his head confused and grabbed his crutches from next to the bed being careful not to wake Snape. It was a short awkward walk to the lavatory, but it really was necessary and Malfoy at least had the foresight to wait for Harry outside the door, sparing him another awkward request.

The small field trip had completely exhausted the Gryffindor physically, but mentally he was too awake to sleep. Not wanting to interrupt Snape, he grudgingly asked Malfoy to help him to the sitting room. He was laying on his spot on the sofa while Malfoy sat on the armchair Snape did not use; leading Harry to believe that Malfoy had not only been in the professor's quarters before, but often enough to know which was "Snape's chair".

"How long was I asleep?"

Malfoy looked over at him placing the book he was reading onto his lap. "Well, I don't know when you fell asleep, now do I?"

"Erm..." Harry thought back, "it was the afternoon of the 31st."

"Oh, well then about a day. It's two o'clock in the afternoon on the 1st."

Malfoy gave him a questioning look, but Harry didn't care; he had only 17 hours left of the continuous chemo and then he'd be done for at least a week. While he didn't doubt the next phase wouldn't be anymore pleasant, he would be happy to, hopefully, be making some progress. Maybe they could try to test out some of his magic just to make sure he could still function.

"Earth to Potter," he heard Malfoy call to him.

"Shove it Malfoy," he said and picked up his Charms book to redo the essay Snape transfigured into a bandage.

The two teens sat in the sitting room with an uneasiness between them. Neither could fully concentrate on the work he was supposed to be doing and instead kept peering over to either the fireplace, Harry's bedroom, or the other boy.

Several hours later, Harry had given up on Dumbledore coming back and he assumed the next person would be either Healer Smithe or Madam Pomfrey to change out his medications. That was until he heard someone loudly curse from his bedroom. Snape must have woken up and Harry was not in his bed.

"Harry!"

"In here sir," he called out to Snape as the man uncharacteristically ran out into the sitting room.

"Good morning Severus, it's nice to see you too," Malfoy sarcastically replied. "Or I guess I should say good evening since it's nearly supper time."

Snape glared over at Malfoy, "How did you get in here?" He sat down in the other armchair across from the blonde Slytherin.

"That seems to be a popular question today," he narrowed his eyes to Harry. "I came here with the headmaster, but he had to leave right before Potter woke up."

"I apologise," the professor said to Harry. "I took a pain potion that I hadn't realized was laced with a sleeping draught. It was completely unacceptable."

Harry turned away, "S'ok sir."

"No, it's not ok," Snape's face became angry, before his mask covered it back up. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm ok," he lied. The last thing Harry wanted was to cause more guilt for his professor and he questioned to himself when he started to care so much. "What caused that reaction sir? I mean, at this point I know what to expect but that was so... different."

The professor looked over at Malfoy and chose his words carefully, "Professor Dumbledore has a couple of ideas. Hopefully he'll find something to help so that does not happen again."

Of course the headmaster would know and not tell him. It was only his body going through all this, why should he have any idea what to expect? Going down that train of thought soured his mood instantly and he hardly heard Snape say he was going to prepare dinner for the three of them.

Harry didn't know why he thought to ask, probably because misery loved company and he was desperate for someone else to be as miserable as he was. Whatever the reason, he almost couldn't believe when he heard himself ask Malfoy, "When are you getting the dark mark?"

To his credit, Malfoy didn't fall into a raging fit, but instead looked almost as exhausted as Harry was.

"Monday," he replied quietly, "I go back home Sunday and then Macnair is coming to get me for the initiation."

"I'm not saying I believe you," Harry said skeptically, "but if you don't want to get marked, why are you? I doubt it's to help the Order like you claim."

"Ha!" Malfoy gave a sadistic laugh, "you make it sound like I've ever had a choice. Sure, maybe I used to want this, but from where I'm sitting today, my father's in Azkaban when the Dark Lord could have easily gotten him out by now. And you know what the ironic part of that is? That he's probably _safer_ in Azkaban than out here. What does that tell you about the respect the Dark Lord gives his followers?"

"It's not like you didn't know what kind of manic Voldemort was before now. It's been kind of obvious."

There was no way Harry would feel bad for Malfoy. The Slytherin knew exactly what he was getting himself into before now. Harry on the other hand had always been just thrown into these situations for reasons he had no control over. Sure, he could never imagine what it would be like going against your parents' wishes, but that was because the person the Malfoy's worshipped killed his parents before he was ever given that chance. Malfoy may have Dumbledore fooled into believing he's changed, but Harry definitely wasn't.

"So what's your story?" Malfoy asked, nodding his head towards Harry.

"There's nothing to tell," Harry spat back, not caring what Snape said the other day, he would die before revealing to Malfoy a single piece of information about himself. The last thing he needed was Voldemort knowing he was on his way to becoming a squib.

"You think I believe that Potter?"

No, Harry did not believe that. He wasn't stupid, he knew what he looked like. However, he also had the advantage that while any muggleborn would clearly know what was wrong with him, the Death Eaters and their children would most definitely not know anything about muggle illnesses.

"I'm sure Hermione has a book she'd lend you, all you have to do is ask her."

* * *

Friday finally arrived and Harry was more excited than when he won his first Quidditch match. Having had such a strange sleeping schedule, both Harry and Snape stayed up most of the night and Harry had finished his Charms and DADA assignments which Snape was in the process of reviewing. Harry spent the early morning hours thinking about Malfoy and the conversation they had. Was it possible for two people as different as him and Malfoy to find themselves in similar situations? Were they both living a life where they found themselves without a choice - Harry with his cancer and Malfoy with the dark mark? It was a lot to think about.

He ended up back at the hospital wing that morning where Harry was given a muggle calming draught - which made him feel completely out of it even if he wasn't sleeping - and had another Intrathecal chemo done along with another bone marrow biopsy to check the status of the leukemia. For some reason Harry hadn't thought that they'd have to do the biopsy again when checking once the induction chemo was completed. It was a very good thing he had the muggle calming draught because both of those at the same time would have practically killed him.

By the time he was back at Snape's quarters, he was too exhausted to do anything but go to sleep. Not wanting to sleep too soundly and further mess up his sleep cycle, he slept out on the sofa waking only for a couple rounds of vomiting and then immediately going back to sleep. Snape never said a word about his unorthodox sleeping location, but he also had a feeling the man was still angry with himself for both his attitude and the potion mishap from the other day.

Healer Smithe stopped by late afternoon with Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Dumbledore which not only caused Harry to wake up a little more suddenly than usual, but caused him to get extremely nervous. This would be the first time seeing his Head of House since all of this started.

"Oh Harry," she sympathetically said immediately upon seeing him which was about what everyone sounded like lately, "I'm so sorry to hear about everything you're going through. I'll be here for you in any way that you need."

"Thank you Professor McGonagall," Harry said, hoping to move whatever this was along.

Professor McGonagall summoned and transfigured the appropriate number of chairs so that everyone was sitting together in a circle. There were introductions for Healer Smithe and Professor McGonagall, and small talk regarding the submissions to the Board of Governors for each curriculum. Apparently Snape was being called in to discuss his suggested curriculum, but he just waved it off saying that "they're always looking for something to complain about." It was obvious the professor had done this before.

"Ok," said Healer Smithe bringing the group's attention to him, "Harry, I have your results back from the bone marrow biopsy we did this morning and I'm happy to report that there was no sign of the Leukemia in your bone marrow. The induction chemo did it's job and you are now considered in remission."

Harry wanted to jump up with excitement, but his foot was in the cast and he still was a touch nauseous from the chemo that morning. He did feel the start of tears in the corners of his eyes, which he quickly swept away.

"That's great," he settled with instead. "So, why are there so many people here?"

"We're going to discuss the next phase, which will lead into the school year," he said handing out papers to each person, "I thought it best to include your Head of House and headmaster in addition to Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape. It will be less times you need to explain it."

"Oh, that makes sense."

"Even though the test results show no more cancer in the bone marrow" the healer went into his lecture-mode voice, "it doesn't mean that it's not still there. Unfortunately, because it _was_ there at some point, if we stop treatment now, it _will_ come back. Consolidation is used to keep killing off any possibility of that happening.

"Consolidation itself is done in 3 phases and will run about 7 months in total if everything goes smoothly. We'll take it one at time again, so it doesn't overwhelm you. The first part will be a total of 8-weeks, and is done in 2 rounds of 4-weeks each."

Harry was brought back to the appointment when they first discussed his treatment. Even though it was only a month ago, it felt so much longer and he was surprised at how comfortable he was with the terminology and accepting what would be happening to him. He remembered sitting in the healer's office scared out of his mind and consolidation seemingly so far away. As he turned his head around the room he also noticed how many more people were here for him. The day of his diagnosis, he was so alone but seeing everyone here helped make him feel stronger even if only a little.

"We're going to start next week and each Saturday you'll have an Intrathecal done and then chemo through your port. For the first 2 weeks, it will be 5 hours on Saturday followed up with another 4 hours each day Sunday , Monday, and Tuesday. The last 2 weeks will only be 2 hours on each Saturday giving you the week completely free. That cycle will repeat once to make up the full 8 weeks. We'll also be adding a daily chemotherapy tablet to take plus you'll still need to take the vitamins, antiviral, antibiotic, pain reliever, and antiemetic."

To Harry, he pretty much said: _awful first 2 weeks, better second 2 weeks, repeat once... Extra tablets_.

"So that will get me to, when... October?" Harry asked, calculating quickly in his head, "Will I be able to go to classes? I'd like to at least stay caught up in the theory if I can."

"Unfortunately, I'm recommending you stay out of classes at least through this part of consolidation," Healer Smithe said looking not only at Harry, but the headmaster as well. "At least two of these medications can be hard on the blood cell counts. We'll keep close monitoring of your blood counts and hopefully by mid-October, they'll be stable enough to attend classes again."

A month and a half - he'd miss at least that much of school. How was he going to keep up with classes if he couldn't attend them?

"How will that work? I mean, not even counting the fact that I can't do magic, how will I even keep up with the theory if I'm not in class?"

It was Professor McGonagall that spoke up this time, "I'll be working with your professors to set up a tutoring schedule, plus you'll be assigned a student tutor for each subject to assist you."

Harry felt his face flush; as if he needed any other reason for the rest of the school to think he was getting special treatment.

Picking up on his discomfort, Snape added, "It's what would be offered to any other student with a disability preventing him or her from attending regular classes. You are not special in this."

Strangely, that made him feel a little better, but he doubted his classmates would see it that way.

"Will I be staying here with Professor Snape the whole year?"

"Actually Harry," it was the Headmaster this time, "you can have some say in where you go this year.

"With the death of your relatives, it unfortunately has left you without a guardian. As your Head of House, the fastest option to keep you out of the Ministry's control was to get Professor McGonagall assigned as your guardian until you turn 17. That means if you'd like, we can move you to a set of guest quarters off of hers. Similar to Mr. Malfoy's situation here, it would technically be a space all your own but with Professor McGonagall having direct access to it."

Harry was more than surprised by that offer. Not only could he get away from the dungeons, he'd only have to see Snape for his tutoring in Potions; if he even got into the class to begin with.

"But if Professor Snape is my medical proxy, shouldn't he be overseeing my treatment?"

The Headmaster didn't hide his smile or the twinkle in his blue eyes when they met Harry's still dull green ones.

"Well, you see Harry," the eldest wizard started, "with your relatives no longer your guardians, there isn't really a need for the medical proxy. Minerva is more than capable of overseeing your care and making decisions in your best interest if you so desire her to. However the medical proxy agreement has not yet been dissolved, so should you like to keep the arrangement with Professor Snape you certainly can do so. He does have the benefit of having some healer training."

Harry couldn't believe he was getting to make a decision like this. It's exactly what he'd always asked the courtesy of - but which did he want? He could put the last month of Snape behind him and yet he couldn't jump at the chance now that it was right in front of him.

Turning to face Snape, the man looked completely defeated. Harry was sure he was thinking back to how he acted the other day in his fit of rage and indiscretion with the potion. Even still, he's learned so much about his mum from the professor and he's learned about a whole different life the man had lived before showing up here. In fact, if it weren't for that other life, where would Harry be right now? Probably at the Dursley's miserable and dying without even knowing it.

Everyone was waiting on him to answer and he flushed when noticing all the eyes on him.

Wetting his lips, not taking his eyes off Snape, he said "If it's ok, I'd like to stay here with Professor Snape as my medical proxy." He quickly added, "It's not that I don't trust you Professor McGonagall, it's just..." He trailed off not knowing how to put what he was thinking into words.

"Don't worry about it Harry," Professor McGonagall reassured while leaning over to pat his shoulder. "Severus is a very wise choice to oversee your medical care."

The young wizard nodded turning again towards Snape, but this time meeting the professor's eyes. Deep within the obsidian eyes he could see confusion and relief. It was the first time Harry had publicly shown that his relationship with the man was indeed changing and Harry was anxious to see where this would lead the both of them individually, together, and as part of the war effort against Voldemort.


	20. The Burrow

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_"I'm never going to bloody get it," Harry complained as his head fell onto the kitchen table that was covered in his Potions textbooks and notes from the last five years._

_"Watch your language," Severus reprimanded his 15-year old son sitting across from him._

_They had been doing extra study sessions in their quarters between dinner and curfew to help him prepare to take his O.W.L.s. in only a fortnight. Sometimes, like tonight, it was just Harry, but occasionally Harry managed to convince the Potions Master to include his friends for the extra help too._

_"You'll get there Harry," Severus told him. "You're thinking too hard about it."_

_"These are important, I won't be accepted into Auror training without the N.E.W.T. in Potions."_

_Severus laughed, "Believe it or not, I was actually aware of such a fact, as I do have to give the same career advice to my Slytherins."_

_Harry placed his quill down, apparently having decided to give up on the question he should have been answering, "Who wants to be an Auror from Slytherin?"_

_He should have seen that one coming, "It is none of your concern."_

_Exhaling deeply, Harry squinted his eyes, "You say that a lot you know... That it's_ _none of your concern_."

_Severus pointed back to Harry's Potions book determined to help him understand the content, "That's because it's true. Move onto the next question."_

_And so the night went on, father and son going back and forth preparing for the test that would determine if Harry would get to move further towards his future goal to become an Auror; a career that Severus loathed. It's not that he didn't think Harry would do well; no, Severus knew he'd do extremely well as an Auror. Harry was a very powerful wizard with quick reflexes, already knew a large repertoire of spells he could filter through with a seconds notice, and the Occlumency skills he learned last year would set him apart from the sea of applicants. Severus didn't want him to join the Aurors because it was probably the most dangerous career he could have chosen and losing Harry was too much for him to even think about._

_When Harry first mentioned the Aurors, Severus had tried to stay neutral but as time went on, he found himself at odds with Harry about it. Why did they think 15 years old was an appropriate time to pick a career? In all the times Severus had sat down with his fifth year Slytherins, how did that fact never cross his mind? And of course his son - the son he loved more than anything else - picked the single most dangerous career in the wizarding world._

_"You should go back up to your tower," Severus finally said when it was not only almost curfew, but clear that Harry couldn't take much more studying tonight. "I promise I will help you finish tomorrow, maybe we can work on your practical instead, but you need to get some sleep."_

_Harry looked up at his Dad with his bright emerald green eyes that at first looked so much like Lily's, but now Severus could tell every speckle that made them unique to his Harry, "I was hoping I could stay here tonight. Sometimes it's just too loud in the tower... and I may have already told Ron and the guys that I would be."_

_"How very Slytherin of you," Severus responded. "Of course you can stay here, but don't stay up too late."_

_"Thanks Dad." Harry said while he gathered up his books knowing Severus did not like them left out all night even if he had every intention of picking back up with it first thing in the morning._

_"Good night Harry," he said walking out of their kitchen and down the hallway to his bedroom._

~~~~SS~~~~

_He chose to stay._

Those were the words Severus lived by for the next couple of days. He could not believe it, no matter how many times he'd said it back to himself. After the disastrous incident on Harry's birthday, given the choice he fully expected the young Gryffindor to leave their current arrangement in a heartbeat and not look back.

Unfortunately, he didn't have a lot of time to consider what that decision meant because his time for getting Draco thoroughly prepared was quickly coming to an end. With Harry having no chemo until the following Saturday, he doubled his time with Draco practicing occlumency, observation exercises, basic healing spells, deception, and all the potions he not only should be able to quickly identify, but should also keep in his robes at all times.

They went through what to expect at the initiation as well as when he's summoned going forward. Severus did not hold back on any details of the expectations of every Death Eater. In hindsight, if someone had sat him down and had gone through it in this much detail, he might have thought twice before joining. Instead, at the time all he saw was a chance to finally prove himself; to finally have some respect, control, and power. Those are all things that no 18 year old - or 16 in Draco's case - should have to think about. The fact that this supposedly superior wizard was recruiting children to serve him should have been a clue just how unstable he was even before he decided to spend all his energy targeting a baby based on a prophecy.

By Sunday night, there was nothing left he could do for Draco, but wait for him to return after the initiation as they had planned. After reliving his early Death Eater days with the blonde Slytherin, what he wanted to be doing was drinking or possibly taking a heavy dose of Dreamless Sleep and passing out for the rest of the night. Instead though, he was in the sitting room reading through Harry's rewritten essays trying to pass the time, when his dark mark started to burn again. He hissed in pain, covering his left forearm with his right hand and was instantly reminded that this week he needed to find some way to alleviate the pain now that he would no longer be answering the summons.

"Are you ok Severus?" Harry asked nervously sitting up on the sofa. "Do you need me to get you something?"

Severus shook his head while conjuring a bandage and charming it to stay cool. He wrapped his arm and then picked up Harry's Charms essay, but could not concentrate on a single word of it.

"Can I get you some tea maybe?" Harry asked casually, wanting to do something to help the man that had helped him so much this past month.

"And how, pray tell, do you expect to get the tea here?" Severus glared down at the cast still on his leg.

"Oh," Harry answered, sounding defeated. "Erm, I'm sure I can get it all here; it might just take some time."

"Let's go get some tea in the kitchen," the Potions Master said breathing through the pain; tea would at least distract him a little bit. "I'm clearly not going to get much else done here."

They silently walked over to the small kitchen. Harry sat down at the closest chair to the door, setting his crutches on the floor, while Severus busied himself making the tea.

"Do you think Malfoy can pull it off," Harry asked while the professor's back was turned away from him. A strategic move, Severus assumed.

"I think he has all the necessary skills," he answered neutrally. "Hopefully that will be sufficient."

"Is the Order going to be involved with tomorrow's initiation?"

It was a logical question to Severus and he was surprised with the Gryffindor's strategic thinking. With Draco now aligned with the Order it made sense to try to use that to their advantage as early as possible.

"Unfortunately no," he said sadly. "It's better for us in the long run to let the initiation happen, the sooner we have a person on the inside the better; short term loss, long term gain.

"The Dark Lord will be hypervigilant on making sure Draco is not tracked. Instead, we'll have extra protection at several high-profile muggle areas since Draco will need to prove himself worthy of the mark before getting it."

He could see the moment Harry understood what the former spy was saying. As expected, there were no follow up questions or comments regarding the initiation or Death Eater activities in general.

Once the tea was ready, Severus set it down on the table and Harry poured each of them a cup. Knowing Harry liked his tea with milk and sugar, he went back to grab both, but no matter how hard he searched he could not find the sugar.

"I need to call to the kitchens for sugar," he said, placing the milk down onto the table and stopping instantly. Sitting right in the front of him on the table was the small bowl of sugar that had most definitely not been there before.

 _I'm officially losing my mind_.

"Never mind," he said sitting down. He really needed a good night's rest and hopefully both him and Harry would get caught up this week before chemo started again.

They drank their tea in a companionable silence as if this were something they did every night. There were so many times Severus wanted to ask why Harry chose to stay, but he couldn't bring himself to; it didn't really matter in the long run. While Minerva would absolutely be capable of taking care of Harry's medical needs, it was a logical choice for Harry to choose to stay here - therefore Harry was simply making the most logical decision for his well being. That's what Severus was telling himself as he was not one to give or want false hope.

"I'm still really tired sir," Harry finally said. "Are you going to be ok if I head to bed?"

Severus followed Harry's eyes to his dark mark, which luckily was starting to cool. The summons had not been aimed to torture the former spy, but likely a real summons to all his top followers. Rubbing his arm he couldn't help but think that nothing good could come of that tonight.

"Of course," Severus said, cleaning up their tea. "Do you need any help?"

Harry gave a small smile, "No, I think I'm ok."

"Very well," Snape said, casually adding, "Alton asked to stop by tomorrow morning to check on the progress in your leg."

Harry paused, "Is everything ok? He didn't say if there were any issues did he?"

_I should have anticipated that._

The professor shook his head slightly, "He didn't say one way or the other. I just don't want you to be caught off guard tomorrow morning should he be here when you wake."

Nodding his head, he left the kitchen for his bedroom.

Now alone with his thoughts, Severus poured himself a glass of red wine; something to help settle his nervous anxiety. Thinking about Draco only brought back all the horrors from the past - the people he outright killed, those he could not save, that damned prophecy... Which always brought him back to Lily and finally to Harry. At this rate, if he could survive the next 24 hours with his sanity intact, it would be a miracle.

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry tossed and turned in his sleep that night. Sweat started beading across his forehead, his heartbeat increasing as each minute ticked by.

Images of Death Eaters shuffled quickly across his mind...

_A dark mansion; a forest; Voldemort himself standing in front of his servants. The feeling of pure elation running through him while more than a dozen men and women bowed to the evil wizard._

His scar was burning fiercely and though the young wizard couldn't tell yet, blood was trickling down his forehead. His ears filled with the sound of his rushing blood as adrenaline flooded his body; a cold sweat now drenched his pyjamas all around his small body.

_The forest quickly changed to a dungeon where he could almost taste the damp mildew coating the walls and then it quickly changed yet again - to a village with twinkling lights painted across the night's sky. Another quick shuffle of images and it settled on rolling hills and fertile meadows underneath a half-moon shining against the black sky. Beyond the meadow, he could see light in the windows of a tall building several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic with four or five chimneys perched on top of the roof. As they approached the entrance, a lopsided sign stuck in the ground read the Burrow._

Harry woke up panting, his green pyjama shirt clingy to his chest. Feeling his scar burning, he pressed the palm of his hand against it feeling the warm, wet blood squishing against his skin. He needed to get out of bed; he needed to get to the Weasley's. Without thinking, he quickly swung his feet across the side of the bed and attempted to stand only to be quickly reminded of the cast on his leg as he fell to the cold ground.

Groaning, he grabbed for his glasses up on the bedside table and his crutches next to the bed as quickly as he could, barely noticing his body shaking from head to toe. Where should he go? How could he get to the Burrow all the way from Hogwarts? He stopped as soon as he got to his bedroom door.

_Wait, I've done this before._

Opening the door, he thought about just floo-ing to the Burrow, but what if this was another trap? He couldn't even do magic... Well, he wasn't _supposed_ to do magic but if he needed to, he was sure he could manage.

Ultimately, he knew what he had to do. Turning to the right he continued down the hallway for the first time since moving into Snape's quarters; carefully approaching the closed door to Snape's bedroom. His heart was still beating furiously in his chest as he lifted his trembling hand and he knocked on the door where his sometimes overly angry professor was sleeping. Never in his life had he woken up an adult in the middle of the night like this, at least not that he remembered; surely when he was much younger he tried with the Dursleys, but learned that it was pointless.

Impatiently, he knocked again, much louder and at the same time called out, "Severus! Severus!"

He held his breath and just as he was getting ready to knock a third time - not daring to walk in unannounced for fear of his premature death - he heard movement from inside of the bedroom. The door swung open hastily and Snape stood in front of him, wearing a set of black long sleeved pyjamas and slippers. Seeing his young charge shaking in front of him, pyjamas coated in sweat he opened the door further, inviting Harry into his bedroom.

Harry was in such a daze, he hardly noticed the conservative bedroom around him as Snape helped him over to the large four poster bed in the middle of the far wall. The room was dimly lit with lanterns in each corner of the room and a small fireplace across from the bed giving enough light to see without blinding either of them. Snape's bedroom also had an enchanted window, but unlike his and the sitting room, it did not show the black lake but it was too dark outside to know what it showed. On the wall to the right of the door was a wardrobe and a little beyond that was the door leading presumably to the professor's lavatory.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Snape asked quickly, assessing him for injuries.

"It's the B-Burrow," Harry stuttered as a blanket was draped over his shoulders tightly. "You have to do something! He's there, right now!"

It felt like 5th year all over again in Umbridge's office. Why would Snape believe him this time? Not only did he not believe Harry last time, but the professor ended up being right and Sirius wasn't in any danger. This was different... It didn't feel like the visions of last year, but how could he explain that to Snape.

A warm wet towel was placed on his forehead lightly wiping and coming away with blood; it was the first time he noticed his scar bleeding heavily down his face. He remembered his healer mentioning something about his blood not working properly when he got injured, which would explain why Snape looked so worried over a little bleeding.

"Sir," Harry tried again when Snape had yet to respond, shivering when he tried to speak, "Voldemort's there, I saw it. He's going to kill them."

Snape looked straight into Harry's emerald eyes and he felt the familiar brush against his mind bringing him back again to fifth year and the horrible Occlumency lesson. Making a quick decision to trust the man this time, he took a deep breath allowing Snape to see what he could not explain. As quickly as it started, it was gone.

"I'll go call the Headmaster," the portions professor said, "and have him send as many people as he can to the Burrow. You stay right here, do _not_ move."

Harry nodded almost too enthusiastically due to the shivering. Dumbledore would believe him; Dumbledore would definitely send help. With nothing else to keep his mind busy, his head fell into his hands and he started crying. Why do things like this keep happening to him?!

_I can't lose the only other people who are like my family!_

It felt like he was sitting in Snape's room for an eternity before he could hear voices and a loud crash coming from the sitting room. Shortly after, Snape walked back into the room with Dumbledore not far behind him. The headmaster's eyes were so full of pain and grief that Harry just knew it wasn't good news; that he'd been right this time.

"No," Harry managed to say, his voice cracking, "tell me they're ok."

"Harry," Dumbledore sat down on the bed besides the teen while Snape paced back and forth in front of the wardrobe across from them. "There was an attack at the Burrow tonight as you had eluded to. Thanks to your quick response in notifying Professor Snape, we were able to send help and greatly reduced the damage that could have been done."

_Greatly reduced... Meaning there was damage._

"Are they ok?" Harry asked, not any more relieved than he was a couple of minutes ago.

"There were no deaths," Dumbledore explained quickly knowing Harry wouldn't hear a word until that was out of the way. "But the house has sustained a great amount of damage, so most of the family has been moved temporarily to Grimmauld Place."

Harry's stomach dropped instantly, "Most sir?"

"Young Miss. Weasley was injured and is now up in the hospital wing." Harry let out the breath he was holding, "It also appears that Charlie Weasley has gone missing. If you hadn't heard, he returned from Romania last month to aid the Order."

"Sir-," Harry was immediately interrupted by Dumbledore's raised hand.

"There are a lot of people, both from the Order and the Aurors out looking for him," Dumbledore explained quickly, but clearly that didn't help calm Harry's shaking nerves.

Harry felt the bed dip as Snape sat down on it next to him, which the Gryffindor was extremely grateful for because the pacing was making him nervous. He wanted to do something and yet there was not a single thing he _could_ do besides sit there helpless while the people he cared about kept getting targeted because of him.

"Can I see Ginny?" He finally asked already knowing what the answer would be.

It was Snape who responded, "Tomorrow you can. Right now she's sleeping and that's what she needs to help her heal."

Harry nodded as if he were on autopilot. " Why... Why were they attacked?"

"We're not completely sure," Dumbledore said sadly, "there is a possibility the Death Eaters assumed you would be there after being removed from your relatives' care."

"Of course they did," he exclaimed; his stomach tied in knots.

"Here, take this," Snape held out his hand and a small tablet was sitting in his palm.

Harry peered skeptically, "What is that?"

"It will help you get back to sleep," he handed Harry a glass of water from the bedside table and watched Harry take the medicine. "Let's get you back to your room. There is nothing else we can do tonight."

"Thank you, sir, but I'll be fine. I don't need any help," the Gryffindor said standing up. "G'night professors."

He didn't turn around as he left the bedroom with every intention of eavesdropping from the hallway. However, once the door was closed all he heard was Snape say, "It cannot be a coincidence...," before complete silence. Someone had warded the door.

Sighing to himself, he walked back into his room feeling more tired than he expected he would. Eyeing the clock, it was still early, only 1:45am, so with any luck he could get some sleep before trying to sort through all the mess he managed to cause.

* * *

It was after nine o'clock in the morning when Harry woke up the next day. The memories of the previous night plagued him from the moment he opened his eyes. How much he wished to go back to... When would he go back? Not to before the summer; maybe before the Department of Mysteries? Of course, then he would still be dealing with Umbridge. When was the last time his life wasn't complicated by something or someone beyond his control? This was bound to be a difficult day.

Snape spent most of breakfast watching Harry with a keen eye thinking the young wizard couldn't tell. Luckily Healer Smithe arrived shortly after they finished breakfast which was a good distraction from his torn emotions. The healer did a standard diagnostic charm and then another directed at just his broken bone, which he could feel all the way into his leg. Both times he furrowed his brows in what looked like confusion.

"Just as I thought. Good news Harry," he started which lightened the teen a little bit, "your leg is healed. I thought I saw this when we ran the diagnostic spells the other day, but wanted to be completely sure before saying so. We can go ahead and remove the cast."

Snape stood up next to the sofa where Harry was being examined, a look of doubt plastered across his face.

"Are you sure?" the professor asked uneasiness in his voice.

"There's no doubt," he handed Snape a large piece of parchment that came from the targeted diagnostic charm.

"How is that possible sir? I didn't use any magic." Harry asked. He wasn't about to complain, but Snape's skepticism worried him a little bit.

"Probably some accidental magic is my guess," the healer said as he prepared to remove the cast.

Harry almost laughed, "Aren't I a little old for accidental magic?"

"Technically yes, but remember your magic is also trying desperately to heal you right now and we really can't control where it focuses that healing," the man explained nonchalantly.

Snape didn't look convinced. In the end, Harry really didn't care _why_ it was healed, just that now he would be able to move around much more freely.

"Can I go visit Ginny?" Harry asked enthusiastically. "After the cast is off obviously."

"Yes," Snape said, "I'll take you up there. However, understand just because you can physically move better now does not mean you can wander about the castle."

Harry rolled his eyes. He'd heard it all before... His immune system.

The cast was finally off less than ten minutes later and between that and five more days until his next chemo, he was physically feeling great. Now if only he could make sure Ginny was ok and Charlie was found alive.

They arrived at the hospital wing by floo with Harry landing, as usual, ungracefully in Madam Pomfrey's office.

"And I thought your apparation was bad," Snape criticized the moment he fell from the floo. "Is there any form of magical travel you can do well?"

Harry swept off the soot from his clothing, "Obviously you've seen me on a broom, I think I do better than well on that."

"Of course," Snape almost chuckled, "the least used form of travel is the one you excel in."

"Could I floo in your reality?" He was becoming more curious lately about his _other self_ , unsure when that had started.

"You certainly had more experience," the professor replied flatly. "I must warn you, Miss. Weasley is still very much recovering."

Harry could almost hear himself gulp. The way Dumbledore spoke last night, he assumed she hadn't been severely injured. Why hadn't he thought to ask?

"Yes sir."

Walking out of Madam Pomfrey's office and up to the only closed curtain, he could feel his heart beating as if it were trying to escape his chest and his head pounding. He almost stopped in his tracks, but Snape's hand on his shoulder kept him moving while keeping him in the present at the same time.

Opening the curtain, his legs completely gave out at the sight in front of him. Luckily, Snape was still holding onto his shoulders and helped him safely to the ground where he started crying, not caring how he looked in front of his professor. Mrs. Weasley was sitting in the chair on the far side of the bed holding Ginny's hand, but she let go and came over to Harry's side when she saw his reaction. Ginny was lying in the bed, more or less alive, with her head and left arm wrapped up tightly in blood smeared bandages; dark purple bruises were spread across her face and neck. She had a deep, dark red cut in the shape of a half circle that started from the outside of her left eye, came down her cheek, and back to stop by her jawline with the blood fresher than he would have expected for happening last night.

"What happened?" Harry said once he finally found his voice.

"She refused to leave," Mrs. Weasley said, tears falling from her eyes. "It was Bellatrix and she was hit with a curse we haven't been able to identify yet. Bill's doing all he can to figure it out and if anyone can, it will be him."

"I'm so sorry," Harry said, "they were looking for me."

"Oh Harry," she said in her motherly voice that was so calming to him, while she pulled him into a tight embrace, "we've stood up so many times against you-know-who, it was only a matter of time. This is not your fault, do you hear me?"

Of course he didn't believe her one bit; like Remus, Mrs. Weasley was too nice to say anything else to him. They managed to survive the first war without their home getting attacked. He knew they were looking for him and now Ginny was injured and Charlie was missing. No one needed to say it to his face, but it was obvious that Charlie was taken by the Death Eaters. Where else would he be, unless he was killed and hadn't been found yet? That would be so much worse he couldn't even consider it at the moment.

Snape conjured an additional chair for Harry and promised to return to help him back downstairs. He was given strict orders not to leave the hospital wing; as if he would have gone anywhere else.

"Where are the others? At headquarters?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded, "We'll be staying there for the foreseeable future. At least everyone else, Albus has offered me the chance to stay close to Ginny here as often as I'd like."

Harry didn't know how to respond since his instinct was to apologize again and he knew she would not have that.

"You're looking well," said the woman who was the closest he has ever had to a mother. "Your leg is healed already?"

"Yeah," Harry whispered, it seemed trivial now looking at Ginny laying in the bed between them, "something similar to accidental magic helped it. I'm not going to complain, that's for sure. Is there anything you need?"

"No dear," she said, "you just focus on keeping yourself healthy."

He had lunch with Mrs. Weasley next to Ginny's bedside, who didn't seem to notice either of them waiting for her to wake up. Sometime shortly after, Mrs. Weasley left with Mr. Weasley to see what could be salvaged from the Burrow. Harry was reading Ginny cards that arrived from her friends wishing she'd get well soon and then he talked to her as if she would respond back any minute. The young wizard hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep in the chair until Snape was shaking him awake. After promising Ginny to come back and visit each day, he left with Snape to floo back to the dungeons.

"I had a thought," Harry said the moment they made it back into Snape's quarters. "Why can't the Order simply follow Malfoy to Voldemort tonight? I'm sure he'll be going to wherever they're keeping Charlie."

"That's brilliant Potter," Snape said sarcastically; in a voice Harry hadn't heard from the man in several weeks, "I don't know why over a dozen fully trained, adult wizards didn't think of something like that."

"You don't need to be an arse over it y'know," he spat back. "If it was a bad idea, you just have to say so." Harry flopped down onto the sofa, "I want to _do_ something. I hate sitting here helpless."

"I would like you to take this time to recognize that this is _exactly_ how you ended up in all those situations where you almost died," Snape glared down at the Gryffindor then said very slowly. "This is not a situation you need to get involved in. Let the adults handle it."

"Fine, but since it's me he's after, you can't honestly think I can just forget about it like nothing's happening."

"That's not what I said," the professor replied as he pulled out a scroll of parchment and handed it to Harry. "This came for you today, if you need something to keep your mind busy this week."

Without another word, he left for the kitchen leaving Harry alone with what was quite obviously his O.W.L. marks. With everything going on this summer, the last thing he really wanted was to think about his classes, even if the headmaster and professors had some way to keep him from falling too far behind. Deciding he couldn't avoid it any further, he opened the parchment:

**_Ordinary Wizarding Level_ **

_Pass Grades_

_Outstanding (O)_

_Exceeds Expectations (E)_

_Acceptable (A)_

_Fail Grades_

_Poor (P)_

_Dreadful (D)_

_Troll (T)_

_Harry James Potter has achieved_ :

_Astronomy: A_

_Care of Magical Creatures: E_

_Charms: E_

_Defense Against the Dark Arts: O_ _Divination: P_

_Herbology: E_

_History of Magic: D_

_Potions: E_

_Transfiguration: E_

Reading through the result he should have been proud of himself and yet all he felt was deep regret. Seven O.W.L.s was a great accomplishment, especially considering everyone always assumed Hermione was the one doing his school work. In the end though he couldn't look beyond his Potions mark; written there clear as day - he was not going to become an Auror.

~~~~SS~~~~

They couldn't have one day where things went smoothly. Between the attack at the Burrow and Harry's leg mysteriously healing, Severus had more than enough going on. He did not even try to hide the fact that the attack on the Weasley's occurring right before Draco's initiation could not be a coincidence. Finding the second eldest Weasley child had quickly become a top priority for the day because who knew what would be left to find by tomorrow.

While Harry was visiting Ginny in the hospital wing, Severus spent most of the day with Albus at headquarters sorting through all the reports coming in from the search. No one had found even a trace of Charlie. Severus was tempted to show up at the last place he was summoned, but he knew it was futile; the Dark Lord would have vacated those headquarters the moment he had any knowledge of a traitor in his ranks. There was also the fact that no matter how good he was at watching his back, leaving Hogwarts at this time would be suicidal. The two things Severus Snape hated the most were being trapped and depending solely on others and yet that's exactly where he found himself. All he could do was sit and wait for everyone else to hopefully do their damn job correctly and in his experience that never ended well.

Walking towards Harry's room, he relished in how somehow this was the first time things felt somewhat normal to him. Yes, he was adjusting to his new reality and his new life, but his dominant memories were still those from a world that no longer existed. It was wearing him out trying to keep all the memories organized and now, something as simple as calling Harry for dinner was familiar and peaceful.

"Supper is ready," he said from the doorway of Harry's room. The teenager was laying across his bed on his stomach reading the extra defense book from Hermione.

Leaning against the doorframe he added, "You are not to go on any rescue attempts, do you understand?"

"Even I know I couldn't make it to the grounds without you finding out. Trust me, I know everything here is heavily warded," Harry marked his page with a piece of parchment and closed the book. "It's nice to read something that's not for an assignment. Believe it or not, I actually enjoy reading as long as it's a topic I'm interested in."

"I don't doubt that," Severus said a bit insulted, pulling out Harry's O.W.L. results he found on the sitting room table.

"Hey! You don't have a right to see those," Harry jumped up and snatched them back.

"Then you should not have left them out in the sitting room," he smirked. "Congratulations, though might I suggest you get started on your potions assignment. I imagine you'll be required to rewrite that essay several times."

Harry stood tall before the professor with a blank face. Satisfied that the message was heard, Severus turned and walked back to the kitchen.

"Wait!" Harry called to him as they entered the kitchen for supper.

"Sit," Severus commanded, not at all surprised when Harry didn't budge. "I am not answering any questions until after supper. Sit and eat."

A look of defiance crossed Harry's face, but in the end he did as Severus asked. Still unsure why the Gryffindor was so upset, they both ate in silence as he did not want to risk adding fuel to Harry's anger.

"Are you trying to mess with me?" Harry accused the moment he finished eating, the last piece of broccoli barely clearing his throat.

"Why would you think such a thing?"

"Would you really like me to go through five years' worth of reasons?"

"That will not be necessary. I was simply stating that you have yet to touch your Potions assignment, most likely due to the fact that you were unsure if you would secure the appropriate mark to continue. Though now, you have less than half the summer to complete it." He let the statement sink in then added, "While I will be reviewing your essays once they're completed, I will _not_ be providing any assistance on them beforehand."

"I didn't make a high enough mark... _sir_ ," it pained Harry to admit that, "I only received an E and _you_ require an O."

"Ah. Yes, I only take the best students into my NEWT course, but I am not teaching potions next year," he held out another piece of parchment to Harry. He watched as his student read through the other page of parchment that came with his results then said, "Apparently you failed to finish reading the letter outlining not only what NEWT classes you will be able to take, but also your individualized schedule that was finally approved by the Board of Governors."

"I didn't see this," Harry mumbled reading silently to himself. "You're teaching defense this year?! I thought Dumbledore refused to let you teach it?"

" _Professor_ Dumbledore's past reasons are between the two of us, however I've informed him that I will not be able to maintain my Potions position this year and this was the arrangement he decided upon. The new Potions professor accepts students with _Exceeds Expectations_ into his NEWT level class... Hence why you need to start on your summer assignment."

Once Severus saw how difficult chemo was on Harry and that it would likely last throughout the school year, he met with the headmaster to discuss his course load. In Potions one needed complete focus, which was why he only accepted O.W.L. marks of O and realistically he couldn't commit to that this year. He offered Albus his resignation from his teaching post and formally requested to pay room board to continue to live in the castle close to Harry. Albus laughed and offered him the defense position instead; something that would provide a bit more flexibility.

"Is this why my results were late?"

"Yes," Severus responded, "Professor McGonagall spent a great deal of time going over the details at the ministry to make sure you will not fall behind."

Harry stared at the parchment for a while longer. When he finally lifted his head, relief could be seen across his face and he simply said, "Thank you Severus."

"You are welcome," he said sincerely, "I suggest you get started on as much as you can before Saturday."

Harry stood up nervously rubbing his hands together, "I will, but sir; one more question."

Severus waved his hand for Harry to continue.

"Do you know when Malfoy's meeting is tonight?"

"Not a clue," Severus said honestly, "Mr. Malfoy won't even know until a Death Eater shows up at his door. I've requested he come here afterwards; it would probably be best if you hear any commotion, to stay put in your bedroom."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

The Potions Master spent most of the night in his laboratory working on yet another formulation to try to ease the pain of his dark mark. Without the mark actively burning, he was able make progress on transferring several elements of a pain potion into the burn salve without causing any major explosions. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to test the first attempt of the salve until a summons or the Dark Lord just felt like torturing him; the latter seeming like the more probable event.

It was approaching one in the morning when the buzz from his wards told him someone was trying to enter his quarters. Naturally, Draco would have floo'ed to the rooms he was utilizing last week, but now could not enter as Severus was not physically in the sitting room.

The moment he stepped foot from his office, the door leading to Draco's rooms swung open. The blonde Slytherin was wearing the customary all black robes that were severely wrinkled down the front and appeared damp along the bottom half. In his right hand was the mask Severus would be happy to never see again and there was the telltale tremor in both hands giving away that he was subjected to the Cruciatus curse at least once. Draco's normally well kept hair was disheveled with bits of leaves scattered throughout as if he had run through the forbidden forest to get to the castle - or more likely from falling onto the forest floor from the Cruciatus curse - but the biggest difference in the young man standing before him were his eyes. The normally grey audacious eyes were now swollen, red rimmed, defeated eyes.

Against his better judgement, Severus conjured two glasses and summoned his bottle of firewhiskey. He poured the glasses and called Draco into the sitting room where they sat facing across from each other. He handed the newest Death Eater one glass and watched Draco take it with trembling hands.

"I did it."

There was no further explanation needed. Draco took a large sip of his firewhiskey barely cringing as the warm liquid passed down his throat into his stomach.

"Who was it?" Severus asked knowing that while there would be many faceless, nameless muggles tortured or killed, one never forgot his first.

"It was Weasel's brother... The one they captured last night... Charlie."


	21. Muggle Fighting

~~~~HP~~~~

Even though he knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, Harry had really wanted to wait up for Malfoy's arrival so he could find out what had happened at the meeting. Unfortunately, he ended up falling asleep well before midnight, without any sign of the Slytherin showing up, and of course on a night he actually wanted to have a vision, he wasn't lucky enough to have one. That didn't mean he slept soundly; no instead he tossed and turned through his normal set of nightmares.

It was a nightmare about Ginny being attacked by Bellatrix, where Harry stood helpless watching her get attacked over and over again, that woke him up at quarter past five in the morning. He bolted up trying to catch his breath and grabbed for his glasses, ignoring the tears slowly falling down his cheeks. No amount of telling himself it was only a dream would help him fall back asleep, so knowing he was up for the day, he grabbed some clothes from the wardrobe, a white long sleeved shirt and blue jumper with jeans, and went to shower now that he no longer had the muggle cast.

Snape was still presumably asleep and it was too early to go up to the hospital wing to see Ginny, so he decided to get a head start cooking some breakfast for himself and Snape. It was the least he could do while he was well enough because he had a feeling that starting Saturday he was not going to be able to do much around the quarters.

Snape flew into the kitchen a half hour later, clearly surprised to see Harry awake and cooking.

"I thought I'd get some breakfast started," the Boy-Who-Lived explained.

"Thank you, but you need not cook for me," Snape said, taking over for Harry at the stove finishing up the sausages.

"I like to cook," Harry explained as he sat down at the table. "Believe it or not, it was my favorite chore to do back at my aunt and uncle's house."

He could see Snape considering that statement and was likely thinking back to his marks in Potions class. Since Harry couldn't defend himself saying that half the issues in class were Malfoy sabotaging his work, he poured himself a glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee for Snape. Without another word, the professor placed a plate of food in front of Harry.

"Thank you," the Gryffindor said with a small smile as he started to eat his eggs. "Did you hear from Malfoy last night?"

Snape turned around quickly, staring stoically at Harry, and sharply answered, "I will not be discussing with you what happened at the latest meeting nor any in the future, understood? Do not ask again."

"Of course sir... I didn't mean...," Harry looked away quickly, he could feel the discomfort emanating from his professor. "Can I go see Ginny today?"

Snape sat down across from Harry placing his cup of morning medications next to his glass of orange juice.

"I have to meet with the Headmaster this morning and will drop you off on my way," the professor said casually, "Please bring your school work. I was serious that you need to get as much completed this week as you possibly can."

"Yes sir, I'll pack it up after breakfast and work at the hospital wing."

The tension in the air of the small kitchen could be cut with a knife as they both ate their breakfast. Harry knew the former spy was withholding not only information, but likely it was the information Harry was so desperate to know. Maybe Malfoy hadn't gone through with it after all. Slytherins weren't known for their bravery and Malfoy was probably the worst of the lot. If Snape can't spy anymore and Malfoy chickened out, where did that leave the Order? Of course, if that were the case, Snape wouldn't have said that they wouldn't discuss further meetings.

He finished his breakfast in silence then immediately went to gather his things. He filled his school bag with his Potions, Herbology, and Defense textbooks, muggle notebooks and pens, and the latest letter he received from Dudley which he intended to reply to before the week was out. According to the last letter, Dudley was struggling with his parents' death and living with Aunt Marge was becoming unbearable to him. Harry found himself feeling strangely connected to his cousin at the moment and wanted to help as much as he possibly could.

Mrs. Weasley was not in the hospital wing when he walked out of Madam Pomfrey's office and Snape didn't say a word to him after they arrived, but instead simply continued walking out the door to see the headmaster, leaving Harry alone with Ginny. He sat in the comfortable chair at Ginny's bedside taking hold of her almost too cold hand. Most of her bruises were finally healed, and the red cut along her face appeared slightly better than yesterday, but was still red and raw. If it weren't for that angry cut, she would look as if she were simply sleeping.

"Hi Ginny," he said quietly, "I'm back."

Harry tried not to feel silly for talking to someone lying unconscious in a bed. Madam Pomfrey explained yesterday that she may be able to hear what was going on around her, but in Harry's well-versed experience of being unconscious for days at a time, that was not the case. It didn't stop him from wanting to believe it though.

"I'm so sorry Ginny," he started with, "I didn't want any of this to happen, especially to your family. You guys are the closest I have to one and I'm always putting you all in danger."

It felt good to be able to speak freely about what was on his mind. Without Mrs. Weasley or Madam Pomfrey present, he could say what was on his mind, which was exactly what he did. He talked about his aunt and uncle's death and that while he wasn't happy they were dead, he definitely wasn't sad they were gone either. Did that make him a bad person? He'd always assumed he'd be long gone from their home when they eventually died and wouldn't have put much thought in it one way or the other. That led him to Dudley, his changing relationship with his cousin, and how vulnerable it made him feel.

He talked about his cancer and the chemotherapy, how it seemed counterproductive to make him so sick while trying to cure a disease, how ironic it was that magic couldn't do a single thing to help it, and how after all of his encounters with Voldemort he's learned he really didn't want to die. But what if this killed him? What if his luck had been used up on Voldemort and the Boy-Who-Lived couldn't survive a muggle disease he shouldn't have been able to get in the first place? Somehow that seemed like a fitting end for him.

Through his winding rambles he ended up in the place he deep down had wanted to start, but didn't know how - Snape. It was only because he was all alone with an unconscious Ginny that he could admit he enjoyed living with the sarcastic professor. Sometime within the last month between the cancer, chemotherapy, attack on Privet Drive, and learning about the whole other world this Snape came from, he'd gone from hating the professor, to tolerating him, to respecting him. How could such a large change happen seemingly without him noticing? And what should he do with this information now that he has it? It was a lot to think about.

Feeling better now that his mind was clear, he focused onto his assignments, starting with Potions as he was already behind on that one and Snape was sure to overanalyze it to death. A part of him was looking forward to individual classes at least to start next year. Surely it would make understanding the material easier if there weren't any distractions. Not only that, it would help delay the inevitable, when the whole school learned about his illness. Maybe he just wouldn't go back to classes again after all.

~~~~SS~~~~

"You are certain he was killed?" Albus asked.

"Draco reported that the Dark Lord himself cast the killing curse. I doubt he missed his target," the former spy answered, "If we already do not trust his intelligence, then this arrangement will not work."

While Severus had been relieved that Draco had not been able to cast the killing curse last night, it had come at a cost to the young Slytherin which unfortunately was experiencing the Cruciatus curse for the first time. Not many people knew that it wasn't uncommon for a soon-to-be marked Death Eater to be unable to cast the killing curse especially if it was his or her first time. Unfortunately - or worse luckily - Draco had done enough damage in the form of torture to their hostage to at least deem himself worthy of the mark; a thought that turned the professor's stomach no matter how he looked at it.

Albus paced across the fireplace threshold, his hands clasped behind his back. He was dressed in bright blue robes with snowflakes scattered across looking out of place not only due to the season, but also because of the sober conversation they were having.

"You are right, but I wonder why his body has not yet appeared. We have every resource available to us out looking for him or any sign of him; all have turned up empty handed."

"I don't doubt there's a reason Albus, but like most things relating to the Dark Lord, we will have to wait. In the meantime, shall someone inform the Weasley's?"

Albus stopped mid-stride and turned to the professor, "No we should let this play out for now. They have plenty to worry about with young Miss. Weasley's condition. Between the castle and Grimmauld Place, the rest of the family is safe."

"As you wish," Severus disagreed with his decision; he was never one to instill hope in others, especially if it were false hope. He was much too practical for that.

"You disagree?"

"Of course I disagree!" He yelled pounding his hand onto the desk in front of him. "Waiting to tell them the inevitable does not alter the result. He's still dead and telling his family today or whenever his body appears will not change that fact."

"That is true, but Severus you know what they'll go through."

A look of disgust crossed the younger professor's was hardly an appropriate time to bring something like that up. Unfortunately, he did know almost exactly how the Weasley parents would feel finding out their son was dead, however stringing them along with hope of finding him would only make it harder to bear in the end.

"I shall break the news to Molly and Arthur at the appropriate time. I must say it's one of the least favorite parts of my duties," Albus announced and Severus raised his hands in defeat, "and young Mr. Malfoy, how is he managing?"

"As one would expect, but I anticipate no issues in his continued support to the Order going forward. Dare I say the events of last night solidified his allegiance to our cause," Severus frowned. He had been wanting to discuss expanding Draco's activities for the Order and decided this was the best chance he'd get to do it casually, "I also think he can provide some assistance within his house here at the school."

Albus sat down at his desk. He picked up a piece of parchment, looking it over briefly before turning his attention back to Severus.

"I did not realize there were issues within your house, my boy," his blue eyes narrowing behind his half-moon spectacles. "Surely, you are more than capable of handling any that should arise without needing help from the student body."

Severus ignored the Headmaster's bait, "As I was preparing Draco for his initiation, it crossed my mind that had I known a fraction of what I was signing up for, it may have deterred me from joining. We should consider allowing Draco the ability to discuss his current predicament, stealthily of course, within the house. It might cause some disruption to the Dark Lord's future recruitment plans."

It was a big risk and one that had zero benefit for the Order, but someone had to try. Severus considered, given his own situation that he could do it, but he didn't want to draw any additional attention to himself and any potential Death Eaters likely would not take him seriously anyway. It would work best to try to convince them from within their social structure than from outside of it. If I could save one student from the life of evil servitude, it was worth the effort.

"Will you give me time to consider your request Severus?" the younger wizard nodded; it was better than a flat out no.

* * *

The rest of the week went surprisingly easy for both Severus and Harry. They got back into a closer to normal sleeping and eating schedule and fell into a routine between them, which immensely helped both of their moods towards each other and those around them.

Harry planned on visiting Ginny every day alongside a rotating set of the Weasleys. However on the second day, after returning to their quarters from visiting with Fred and George while at the hospital wing, Harry was met with a box of muggle medical masks on the table in the sitting room.

"What are these?" The young wizard harshly asked.

"Ah, that was a quick delivery," Severus said, summoning tea for the both of them as had become their afternoon routine. "With all the Weasley's visiting their sister and daughter, you need to stay protected."

Harry opened the box and pulled out what appeared to be a piece of paper with loops on both ends. He'd seen these on Aunt Petunia's medical shows and when he got his port placed last month.

"I'm not wearing this," Harry threw the mask back into the box and sat down on the sofa to drink his tea.

"You make it sound like you have been given a choice," immediately Severus regretted that statement; it was too similar to the infamous crossroads and now the second time in a week something triggered that memory. If he wasn't careful he would lose his mind trying to keep the realities straight.

"You have no idea what potentially infectious germs the Weasley's are unknowingly bringing into the Hospital Wing during your visits," Severus continued sipping his tea. "The problem occurs when an illness, that goes undetected because Mr. Weasley's - take your pick of which one - immune system can battle it before it causes any major symptoms towards him, is then passed to you. It will not have the same fate against your much weaker immune system and where he might end up with a little nasal congestion, you could get pneumonia which can quickly kill you in your current condition."

"I don't care. I told you, I'm _not_ going to wear that thing!" The young wizard yelled slamming his tea down a bit too hard, causing it to spill onto the table.

Severus pulled out his wand and proceeded to clean up the tea, "It is simple Harry; no mask, no hospital wing. The choice is yours."

In the end, Harry didn't really have a choice because he wanted to see Ginny and whichever Weasley was also visiting, so he wore the mask during each trip to the hospital wing. Between his lack of hair, too skinny frame, and now the mask, Severus could tell Harry felt extremely self-conscious. The professor would give almost anything to take away his embarrassment, but not at the risk to his health.

Severus continued throughout the week with the school potion supplies, making some good progress getting back on schedule, and he managed to finish his new Defense curriculum by making the last of the required changes that did not get approved by the Board of Governors. He had a good start on his lesson plans, both for his standard classes and Harry's private tutoring, however most of the work would come the final week before term started. While he was pleased to finally get a chance at teaching defense, he ultimately wished it was under different circumstances.

There was only one time in the week that his dark mark burned and based on the abnormally long length of time it was the Dark Lord setting out to torture him with it. He was able to test out the newly created burn salve, which did not help at all, so he went back into his laboratory trying out yet another formulation. Twice that week, Draco stopped by for more training and by some miracle, both teenagers managed not to kill each other during their short passings. Near the end of the week, Albus reluctantly agreed to allow Draco to speak to his housemates about his Death Eaters experience, but all outgoing information had to be approved by Severus first; adding yet another level of responsibility onto the professor.

To Severus's surprise, Harry finished his summer work to the professor's high standards with less revision than he had anticipated. With homework out of the way, they started going through how lessons for the beginning of the year would look for him. On the days he did not have chemotherapy, he would have 2 hours of professor-led tutoring each night after dinner and during the day when he didn't have chemotherapy, he would work on 2 subjects with his student tutor for that subject for one and a half hours each. This would obviously change based on how he felt after each round and on chemotherapy days he would not have anything scheduled unless he felt up for the lesson.

To Severus's displeasure, this would all be occurring in his quarters. The defense office, and obviously the library and Gryffindor common room carried too much of a risk of infection. Since Minerva was Harry's official guardian and was coordinating his school schedule, Severus briefly considered using her quarters, but in the end - if he did not want Harry traveling throughout the school - having a set of professors and students in his quarters was ultimately the best option he had.

What was not discussed from neither the Order nor the Dark Lord - by finding the body - was Charlie Weasley. Severus obviously knew that the headmaster did not inform Molly and Arthur what Draco reported and it infuriated him. Either he didn't trust Draco's recounting of the meeting or he was just trying to delay the inevitable. Neither one was good. What did Albus think he would gain by delaying the news? Severus hoped that the Weasley's never found out he knew before they did, otherwise it was not likely to go over very well.

~~~~HP~~~~

Friday came upon them much faster than he and Snape had hoped. Tomorrow was the first round of consolidation chemotherapy, where he would start the day up at the hospital wing for the Intrathecal and then finish down in Snape's quarters for 5 hours of treatment which included an hour of one medication and 4 hours of another. When thinking about the week of continuous he did, five hours didn't seem so daunting even though he was not looking forward to it. Then on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday he would get another 4 hours each day, and this would repeat the following week as well. The schedule overwhelmed Harry so much that Snape finally created a schedule on some parchment for the next 8 weeks and posted it in the lavatory - two bad weeks (Saturday - Tuesday), followed by 2 good weeks (Saturday only), that repeated once - October seemed too far away for the both of them.

Snape must have been feeling generous because he allowed both Ron and Hermione over after dinner. Harry clearly needed the distraction before tomorrow and it was obvious the professor was not focused enough tonight to help; in fact Snape had seemed distracted most of the nights this week.

The trio were sitting in Harry's bedroom, Harry and Hermione sitting side by side on the bed while Ron was at Harry's desk frantically copying Harry's homework, but trying to make it sound like it was his own.

"You're telling me Snape's going to teach defense?" Ron asked, turning slightly green at the thought.

"Yes he is," Harry answered, almost holding in a laugh, "Let me know what Neville looks like when he finds out."

"So... you really won't be at the welcoming feast?" Ron asked suddenly seriously. This was a topic they'd discussed already, but Ron was in denial that Harry's schedule and living arrangements needed to change this year.

"No," Harry said casually. At first he was disappointed but after putting more thought to it, he really didn't want to be stared at all night. "September 1st is the day after chemo and even though it's an easier one, I just don't want the attention. Snape said if I was feeling up to it I could, but I know he would make me wear that stupid mask."

"Harry, it's for your safety," Hermione reprimanded while Ron rolled his eyes at her.

"Have you heard anything about Charlie?" Harry abruptly changed the subject not wanting to get into a debate with Hermione about his health.

"Nothing yet Mate," Ron said sadly, "I'll be sure to tell you as soon as we hear something, but it's been about a week and that can't be good news."

Harry had been thinking about Charlie and Ginny all week and frustrated that the Order hadn't been able to do much else for either of them. The Weasley's were some of the nicest people he knew and they didn't deserve something like this to happen to them.

Harry shivered both from the thought of Charlie still missing and from the cold dungeon air. It seemed no matter how warm he dressed - it could be two layers under his jumper and thick warm socks like he was dressed now - he was always cold. Mrs. Weasley had made him a couple of warm blankets that he could casually use, but they always ended up on the sofa which is where they were now. He lifted his legs to help stay warm instead.

Hermione noticed her friend shiver and she looked around for his blanket. Remembering she'd seen it in the sitting room, she swung her feet over the bed to go and retrieve it for him when surprisingly, the red blanket came flying in through the partially opened door.

"Thanks 'Moine," Harry said, grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around himself.

Hermione looked over at Ron, who was still focused on Harry's homework, then back to Harry. She had been thinking about the red blanket, maybe she accidentally did a non-verbal _accio_... Or more like a non-verbal and wandless _accio_? It didn't matter in the end because Harry wasn't shivering anymore which warmed her heart.

"Not a problem Harry," she replied. He looked exhausted and she was about to suggest that she and Ron leave when the door opened and Snape walked in.

The professor looked between the three teenagers lingering a little longer on Ron as his student was trying to hide the fact that he was using Harry's essays to write his own.

"You won't learn a thing, Mr. Weasley, if you copy Harry's essay," Snape was leaning against the lavatory door glaring down at Ron who audibly gulped. "Do you know why professors assign summer work?"

"Erm... So we don't forget things?" Harry was proud his friend managed to remember and regurgitate from Hermione's " _why summer assignments are important"_ lecture she gave to them every June.

"Yes," Snape said, seemingly impressed by the redhead's answer, "but also as a way to see which students still need assistance before moving onto new material. By copying a different student's essay, how can your professors know what level you personally are performing at?"

Harry furrowed his brows thinking this through. He was pretty sure Snape was lying, but didn't want to call the man out on it unless he was 100% sure. There was no way Snape ever cared if a student was behind in Potions before they started the next year.

"Food for thought," the professor added. He looked over to Harry, "I came in because I saw a red blanket flying off the sofa."

"Sorry, Severus," Harry said ignoring Ron's shocked face, "Hermione summoned it for me."

Snape looked over to Hermione who was nervously biting her lower lip. In his other reality, by sixth year these two eventually felt just as comfortable at Severus's quarters and Spinner's End as they did at the Burrow. Obviously here, their negative history was still a lot to overcome and he could feel the uneasiness throughout the room; a clear signal to leave.

"You have a busy day tomorrow, not much longer ok?"

Harry and Hermione nodded as he walked out, closing the door behind himself. Ron's face was a bright red that almost perfectly matched his hair.

"Severus?!" Ron yelled at Harry, "why the bloody hell would you call that git _Severus_?!"

Hermione stood up to stand between her two best friends "Ron," she said reaching for his hand.

"Erm... He asked me to... since I'm living here and all," Harry had expected this and if he was honest, he was surprised it hadn't come sooner. "It's not a big deal."

"Yes Harry, it is very much a big deal," Ron started shoving his things into his school bag. "I've tried my best to be supportive because, seriously you need it right now, but this is too much!"

Harry was now standing up ready to defend himself both verbally and, if needed, physically. Luckily Ron didn't grab for his wand which Harry couldn't do much about anyway.

"You should have been at our house Harry, don't you see that?"

Hermione seemed to know exactly where Ron was taking this - a fact that frustrated Harry because they had evidently been discussing him previously - since she immediately pulled at him and said, "Ron, this is not the time."

"No, Hermione," the redhead pulled away, "my parents begged Dumbledore to bring you to stay with us when they found out you were sick, did you know that? Even though they knew it would make them targets for Voldemort... And look what happened?! They came trying to find you anyways and now my brother is missing and my sister might not ever wake up! And this whole time you're becoming, whatever this is -" he waved his hands around the room to make his point clear, " - with one of _them_! My parents don't deserve this, they're good people Harry!"

"Ron, that's not fair," Hermione pleaded, barely able to hold Ron back; she pulled out her wand just in case.

"Don't you think I know that?!" Harry yelled back. "I feel awful about what happened, ok? First Sirius and now Charlie and Ginny. Don't you think I know all this already?"

They fell into a turbulent silence and it seemed as if both boys had lost some steam. Hermione let go of Ron, to collect their things so they could leave.

"It's all your fault," Ron said it ever so quietly but that was all it took; Harry had heard him.

Hermione held her breath as she watched between her best friends and then it happened as if they were in slow motion. Harry turned away from them clearly hurt by Ron's declaration, something he was already feeling about himself, but then immediately turned back and ran to tackle Ron to the ground. Hermione screamed and tried to separate the boys.

It felt good for Harry to release some of the pent up aggression he had over all the things beyond his control right now. Ideally, it would not have been at Ron and on the stone floor of the dungeon, but at that moment he didn't care. He didn't feel the pain of his back slamming against the floor when Ron, who was stronger than Harry even if he hadn't been so ill, tackled him back down or when Ron punched him in the nose causing blood to gush down his face. Harry was numb all over; his best friend agreed he was responsible for all the death and destruction around him. He always had been and he always would be at least until he killed Voldemort; that was unless he was killed by Voldemort or the cancer first.

Snape came uncharacteristically running in the room after hearing Hermione scream and her continued screams. He mentally scolded himself for not anticipating this and yelled, "Enough!" while pulling Ron off from on top of Harry.

"Get out!" he yelled at both Ron and Hermione, simultaneously bending down to help Harry up off the cold floor.

"C'mon 'Mione," Ron said, lifting his hand to feel his own bloody lip before storming out.

Hermione's face couldn't hide the devastation she was feeling; tears were streaming down her cheeks, "I'll catch up with you later Harry, I promise."

Snape glared at her as Harry simply nodded and she too left.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Snape said helping the young wizard to the lavatory and sitting him down on the closed loo.

There was blood everywhere from his nose and Harry questioned in his head how muggles fix broken noses. He was pinching the bridge while Snape charmed a towel cold placing it over top and transfigured another into cotton which he placed under Harry's nose.

"Is it bad?" Harry finally asked.

"Yes it is," he was doing all he could, but the blood wasn't slowing down.

"It was my fault... I attacked him first," Harry mumbled.

"We will deal with that later, I need to get your shirt off to inspect your back." Harry tried to ignore the panic in Snape's voice, which was becoming difficult.

Harry lifted his arms, but grimaced in pain from his back. Noticing his discomfort, Snape took out his wand and vanished the young wizard's shirt. His back was covered in large, dark purple bruises.

"He's got a lot on his mind," Harry continued disregarding Snape's request to discuss it later.

"And you don't? Even so, that does not give him cause to..." the professor trailed off as if remembering something.

"Muggle flight?"

"Indeed," Snape said thinking back to both their conversation at the end of term last year in the hospital wing as well as a memory from his old reality.

"The bleeding is finally slowing and I don't think it's broken. I'm going to get some bruise salve for your back; I think it's best to use in this instance," Snape finally replied after a long silence at the same time summoning a small round tin. "I'm going to apply just a small amount of this to your back to control the bruising."

"Ok sir," Harry agreed, feeling warm, rough hands gently apply the bruise salve. It was different from the many times Madam Pomfrey used the same salve on him in the past. He could almost imagine this was how a parent would care for their child; ever so gently with concern.

Snape applied just enough to turn the bruises from dark purple to yellow, so they were no longer actively bleeding under the skin. Satisfied with his work, he spelled a new shirt onto the teen.

"That's the best I can do. I don't think we need to contact Alton, at least not right now anyway," Snape leaned against the sink. "Care to tell me what happened?"

Even though Harry was ready to take the blame before, he did make the first move after all, now he was too exhausted to go through it all.

"I got angry at something Ron said," Harry shrugged, "he was just telling the truth though."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "I'm having a hard time coming up with something Mr. Weasley could say to make you react as you did."

Harry just glared back at Snape. The last thing he wanted to do was explain this to Snape. While he was learning to respect the professor, he still wasn't comfortable talking about something as personal as one of his biggest fears.

"You have a busy day tomorrow," Snape conceded, picking up on Harry's uneasiness. "Go to bed and we'll discuss this tomorrow."

"Thank you sir."

Harry walked back into his bedroom and changed into the pyjama bottoms that matched the shirt Snape had spelled on him. His back was still extremely sore, so he tried to sleep on his side as much as possible. He fell asleep with his scar both aching and tingling.

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_Severus hated being called out of class for any reason; it was disruptive to the other students, it put his lesson plans behind schedule, but most of all it was embarrassing. Today, not only did that just occur during his second year lecture on swelling solutions, but it had to be for something as foolish as fighting. What could his son have been thinking; muggle fighting of all things?_

_He stormed into the hospital wing, robes billowing around him, where both boys sat on beds opposite each other, thankfully with a curtain between them so neither could see the other. Poppy was tutting about between them reprimanding both boys about their atrocious behavior._

_Severus approached the bed of his 14 year old son. It was less than a week since Harry's name was selected from the Goblet of Fire and he knew it had caused a rift between Harry and Ron, however he never expected it to go this far; otherwise he would have absolutely stepped in. Harry was nursing a bloody lip with a handkerchief and had the start of a black eye when Severus walked up to his bedside._

_"Care to explain to me why I was interrupted from my second year lecture?" Severus said sitting in the chair besides his bed and casting a **muffliato** behind him._

_"He started it I swear," Harry complained. "He's being a total prat about this whole tournament thing!"_

_"I do not care who started it, however from what I have heard you threw the first punch. I do not condone fighting of any kind and you know that Harry," he steepled his fingers sighing disappointedly. "You will be serving detention every night for the next week-"_

_"You know, no one else has a parent as a professor to assign detentions!" Harry interrupted, "besides, Professor McGonagall already assigned detention and took points from both of us."_

_"As she should have, but this will be in addition to her detentions and I guarantee you even though Mrs. Weasley is not a professor here, Ron will get his punishment," Severus explained. "You will also not be permitted to go to the next Hogsmeade weekend."_

_"What?!" Harry yelled. "That's not fair, what did you expect me to do?"_

_"I expected you to walk away from the situation and let a professor handle it," he knew it was always hard for Harry to trust adults to look out for his best interest. While he had been getting better with it each year, Severus knew it was likely something his son would always struggle with._

_"I'm sorry Severus," Harry said looking over at the man._

_"Apology accepted, but your punishments still stand. Hopefully after all of this, you will learn your lesson. Try not to let him get to you, Ron will come around at some point; give him time," he picked up the tin of bruise salve and gently started applying it to Harry's black eye. "I should let this heal the muggle way since that's how you decided to get it in the first place."_


	22. Moving Forward

~~~~SS~~~~

**_Saturday 10th, August 1996_ **

It didn't take Merlin himself to guess what had occurred between the two boys last night; he had seen the look of betrayal on youngest Weasley son's face when he heard Harry call him _Severus_. What it did take was all of his resolve and Occlumency not to literally throw the other 2/3's of the Golden Trio out of his quarters last night, but he managed to maintain control - at least this time. Today was Harry's first day of consolidation and so far it was off to a rough start. The professor had prepared Harry's standard pre-chemotherapy breakfast of porridge with banana and granola, but the Gryffindor did not show up at his usual time. Placing a warming charm over the bowl, he walked carefully over to the teen's door listening in to see if he was at least awake. Hearing nothing, he held his breath and opened the door.

The room was gloomy from the rainy day outside preventing the sunshine from filtering into the room through the enchanted window. While the windows did help make the dreary dungeons feel more inviting, it didn't do anything when it was rainy outside, something Severus had gotten used to after all these years living here. Walking up to the bedside of his young sleeping charge, Severus relished in how peaceful he looked - at least at this time - while sleeping. He knew in his old reality Harry had suffered from nightmares after the Philosopher's Stone incident and he had to assume that given how much more had occurred in this reality _after_ that year - things much worse than the Philosopher's Stone - he was still plagued with them. Curiously, in all of his time he spent sleeping in a chair besides Harry, he had never seen the young wizard have one.

However, right now he appeared to be peacefully sleeping and it hurt Severus to know that he had to wake the young man up and back to a life filled with death and destruction. The professor sat on the edge of the bed and gently shook Harry's arm.

"Harry... Harry..."

The small teen rolled over in his bed and gave a soft groan, as if his body and mind knew exactly what was waiting for him upon waking.

"Come on Harry, it's time to get up," Severus said it so gently he hardly recognized his own voice, but was rewarded with two bright emerald green eyes peeking open. Of course when they saw the professor sitting on his bed Harry jumped up immediately, reminding Severus that this child was never usually woken up peacefully.

It took a second for Harry to recognize where he was and as expected his first instinct was to apologise.

"Sorry professor," he said sleepily, yawning afterwards.

"It is of no consequence yet," he stood to give Harry some space and privacy as he awoke. "Your breakfast is ready, go ahead and get dressed; we'll talk while you eat."

Harry had gotten ready in record time and met Severus in the kitchen less than ten minutes later. Having already eaten his own breakfast, Severus busied himself with cleaning up the kitchen from breakfast as well as collecting Harry's morning medication, which now included a new chemotherapy tablet he would take everyday during consolidation.

"Here," he sat down at the table after handing Harry his medication. "How is your back feeling this morning?"

"Still sore," Harry mumbled while running his spoon through his porridge. Severus resisted the urge to make a comment about humans not being able to eat via osmosis since that would not aid him in getting Harry to both talk and eat.

"Alton will examine it before the Intrathecal, just in case," he explained knowing full well the healer would see it regardless of if Harry wanted him to or not. "What happened last night?"

"I got angry at something Ron said," Harry started to explain, finally taking a bite of his porridge.

"Yes, you did mention that part last night," the former spy was not about to let him off that easy again. Harry needed his friends during all of this and Severus needed to know how bad the row was. "Any specifics today would be most appreciated."

Harry took a large breath, delaying the inevitable, and met Severus's eyes; there was much more trust and compassion than the professor ever expected to see.

"He got angry that I called you _Severus_ ," Harry eventually said with a sound of relief. That proved he was at least half correct, but Severus doubted Harry fought his best friend on his account.

"If that was the reason you hit him first, I'm very honored but I have a feeling there's more to it than simply that..." He trailed off and was not at all surprised when Harry continued; that tactic worked plenty of times in his old reality.

"No," this time Harry looked away with a face the professor couldn't place - was he embarrassed he hit his friend?

"No," the Gryffindor said again, his voice shaking and cracking, "he said... He said it was my fault... about Ginny and Charlie. And he's right."

_That... Weasel..._

It wasn't the most mature thought, but it was by far the cleanest he could come up with compared to what he wanted to say as a former Death Eater. Severus knew in this reality more than his old one, Ron had always been frustrated at being in Harry's shadow, but this time he had gone too far. As his best friend, he should have known Harry would already be mistakenly blaming himself for all that was happening in the war.

For a moment he was brought back to the memory of when he said something just as damaging to his own best friend and he questioned if, like with Lily, this would be the last straw to break the boys' friendship. Unfortunately, due to Harry's neglectful upbringing, he was the most forgiving person Severus had ever known - even more so than Lily - but this was something even he shouldn't forgive.

"Harry look at me" he broke the awkward silence by calling Harry's given name, something that still always got the teen's attention. His eyes met Harry's and he could see the sorrow deep within them. Being the Boy-Who-Lived and now The Chosen One really was too much pressure to put on a 16-year old boy.

"This is not your fault," he continued keeping eye contact with Harry, "you are not responsible for the Dark Lord's actions nor Bellatrix's actions. You are not responsible for Mr. Weasley's reaction to such actions. You are not at fault for anything that happens during this war. Sometimes bad things happen, and there is nothing we cosmically do to cause any such events. You are not a bad person."

The professor could see the struggle within Harry as he said the words the young wizard needed to not only just hear, but to understand. Harry's jaw was clenched and he simply shook his head in acknowledgement, knowing that any words would be met with tears. Satisfied for the moment, Severus placed a supportive hand on Harry's boney shoulder having no idea how much worse the day was about to get.

* * *

"It's only a matter of time before he finds out," Severus angrily explained to the Headmaster in his office only an hour after breakfast, "and I'd highly suggest it comes from someone in the Order instead of the _Prophet_."

Charlie Weasley's body was found that morning in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, clearly placed as a symbolic message floating above where the Fountain of Magical Breathen lay still destroyed. His clothing was dirty and torn to bits, and his body - still in the condition as if he were only killed yesterday - was littered with deep cuts and burns. It was determined that while his cause of death was officially the killing curse, as Draco had reported, unfortunately it was not before withstanding several rounds of torture. It was clear that his last 24 hours alive were anything but peaceful.

When the body was discovered just after dawn, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were called to the new Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour's office and were then taken to Grimmauld Place to be with the rest of their family. No one had yet told Harry, who was recovering from the IT chemotherapy in the hospital wing before going back to their quarters to start the 5 hour chemotherapy, and Severus was now with the Headmaster trying to determine how to proceed. Of all the days for this discovery, Severus questioned if it could have been intentionally planned; a thought that concerned him greatly.

"Obviously we cannot let Harry find out from the papers," Albus said pacing the floor in front of his desk. "I'm simply pointing out the fact that he will be sequestered in your quarters until at least next Saturday and there are few places he would hear of this news. Therefore, we can use that to our advantage and delay until he's well enough to handle it."

Severus knew on some level the headmaster was right even though it felt so wrong. Harry absolutely would not handle the news of Charlie Weasley's death well and at the start of a four day treatment - with new medications they had no idea how he'll react to - was probably the worst time to tell him. Then there was also the fact that he would not be permitted to attend the funeral, however based on the physical altercation of the previous night, that might be for the best. Severus knew good and well what happens when you show up unwelcomed to a funeral and he had no intentions of repeating that in this reality.

"Fine," the younger professor reluctantly agreed. "Let's see how he handles the new medications after tomorrow and then we can determine when to tell him."

"I shall leave that decision up to you," Albus stated the twinkle in his eyes having returned, "Am I correct to assume that our young Harry knows where you've come from and the nature of your relationship there?"

Severus peered over at his mentor and gave a swift nod. This decision could easily backfire and break the delicate trust he'd managed to build with Harry thus far, but at the same time it could just as easily break Harry's spirit. There was only so much one person could be pushed before giving in and he feared getting this information at the wrong time would do exactly that to him. Therefore, it was a calculated risk he was willing to take.

"Now that we've covered that topic," Albus said, still pacing his office, "what do you make of the presentation?"

"It's clearly a statement," the former spy answered, "likely that the Dark Lord has enough people within the Ministry to get in and out in the middle of the night without so much as an alarm going off. Of course, we have always known he's had help from within, so it's nothing new. I'm more curious of the timing."

"Very good point Severus.," the headmaster continued taking a seat in the plush armchair across from him, "why now?"

Severus was hesitant to answer. While he obviously thought that waiting until Harry was at one of his lowest times wasn't a coincidence, there were few people who would have known such a fact. At best, there could have been some leak within the Order and at worst, there was a leak on Harry's medical team. While the Order knew the details of Harry's condition, they did not know his chemotherapy schedule so that would mean it was partially coincidental that they waited 5 days to stage the body. Harry's medical team who would have intimate knowledge of how Harry was both handling the chemotherapy as well as when he would be starting this next round consisted of himself, Alton, Poppy, and Albus - plus the Weasley's and Hermione would also have those details - none of which he wanted to even _consider_ to be traitors. Then there was always the option of it truly being coincidental. There was no real way at this single point to discern between those options.

"I don't know Albus," he ultimately said. "I can't help but think that it was deliberate based on Harry's schedule; to hit him when he's down, however the implications of that are horrific."

"I am in agreement with you my boy, but I see few other options."

Severus grimaced just thinking about it. They were between a rock and a hard place with the walls closing in; no option was a good one.

"I can have Draco keep a close ear out should he be summoned in the near future. Maybe he can identify why this date was chosen and if we have a traitor amongst us," the professor offered. "Outside of that, we should make sure someone we can trust, without a doubt, stays with Harry as much as possible. I'll brush up on my muggle medicine some more to double check everything that gets administered to him."

"Very good. I will get you a list of people to help you with Harry," Albus said after a thoughtful pause, sadness running through his eyes. "Go be with him Severus, your boy needs you now more than ever."

-HR-

When Severus returned to the hospital wing, he was far more alert than before his conversation with Albus. His instincts told him Alton was not going to intentionally harm Harry, but until he knew what was going on he would not take any chances regardless of whom it was.

Harry was lying flat on the hospital bed, waiting for the chemo medication to spread throughout his spinal cord, when Severus continued walking towards Madam Pomfrey's office. Based on what time he started and the time Severus was with the headmaster, they should be on their way back to their quarters any minute.

"Alton," the professor said calling his friend away from Harry's bedside, "how is everything going?"

"At this point, he's used to the IT so as normal as can be," Alton replied, a little skeptical. "Why do you ask?"

Severus thought about how much to share. He did not get as far as he had in his complicated life without being able to make these types of decisions quickly.

"I need you to be able to do the Intrathecal in my quarters going forward," he was trying to be intentionally vague. "Harry had an altercation with Miss Weasley's brother yesterday and I do not want them to cross paths unintentionally during any treatments."

The healer gave Severus a concerned glare, "Was that the cause of those bruises on his back? "

"Unfortunately, yes. At this point, it's in Harry's best interest to prevent any future issues." That certainly was not his best work, but it got the point across.

"Of course," Alton said understandingly, "I'll get you a list of what I need to do the treatments down there. Poppy will need to assist if that's ok."

Severus nodded, turning towards the matron working on Ginny Weasley. Their family had already lost one son and have a higher chance than there ever should be at losing their only daughter. He was torn between being sympathetic to their situation and angry with Ron's attitude towards Harry.

"Is he ready?" Severus asked impatiently, tabling the other thoughts in his mind for now.

"Yes he is. I'll meet you both down there to get started on the next set."

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry was lying on his bed, back in his favorite pair of green flannel pyjamas with only about an hour left of the first day's chemo; the fight with Ron weighing heavily on his mind. No one would ever believe that Harry could actually understand Ron for blaming him, he already blamed himself for a lot of the things that had happened in his life. What was bothering him the most - what kept eating away at his mind - was the regret he heard in the redhead's voice; it continued ringing through Harry's head. It was as if Ron's life would have been better had they never met on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago. This was beyond the Heir of Slytherin fiasco, or all of last year where the half the school thought he was a liar about Voldemort's return, this even went further than the Triwizard Tournament row they'd had. Harry didn't see how they would reconcile from this one and since he hated putting Hermione in the middle of them, he had basically lost her too. Once again he found himself feeling alone in the world.

"May I come in?" he heard Snape's baritone voice ask from his bedroom doorway.

As always Snape looked completely exhausted even after their - relatively speaking - easy week, yet he never complained. Harry wondered how they were going to manage once school started and the professor had classes, detentions, his own house to manage, and school functions to keep up with especially since he doubted Mrs. Weasley would want to stay with him after everything that happened with Ron. A heavy blanket of guilt fell over Harry's heart.

"Sure," Harry said, making to sit up, but Snape held his hand up for him to stay laying on the bed, so Harry simply shifted to face his professor. "Is everything ok sir?"

"Not really Harry," Severus tried not to sound too foreboding but knew it was likely not working, "given what happened yesterday, I think it is best if you do not continue to visit Miss Weasley in the hospital wing. At least not for the immediate future."

Harry looked over towards the enchanted window. It was almost dinnertime and the sun finally started to peek out from the clouds just in time to set over the black lake. He tried not to think about when the last time he was outside and how much he wished he could go flying at that exact moment.

"I know sir. I don't think I'm going anywhere anyway." Deep down he had known he wouldn't get to see Ginny anymore, but it still hurt to hear.

Snape waved his wand and a set of books came flying into the bedroom and settled on Harry's desk. The professor picked one up - to Harry, it looked like a muggle book on medicine - and started reading while making notes in the margins with one of Harry's muggle pens. It was an odd sight not only to see the professor surrounded by muggle things, but also because after everything they'd done for over a month, it seemed a bit late for Snape to be doing this much research about his cancer.

"Ok, Harry," the teen lifted his head as Healer Smithe called cheerfully while walking into the room presumably from the floo, "you are done for today."

"Thank Merlin," it hadn't been an overly difficult time, but he was always relieved to be done.

"Madam Pomfrey will be administering the next two sets of chemotherapy tomorrow and Monday," he disconnected the port, flushing it out afterwards, and started putting away the materials. "She'll be here at half past nine o'clock in the morning and it should last roughly 4 hours, plus the time for the antiemetic prior and possibly morphine afterwards. So, then... I will see you on Tuesday."

Harry nodded yet again, feeling his eyes getting heavy as Snape said goodbye to the healer.

_Maybe I can just sleep through all the side effects today..._

"Do you think you can eat something?" Snape asked him sitting back at the desk. At this point, they both knew that it was never a matter of if Harry was hungry, because he never was anymore, instead it was if he could eat or not.

As if on cue, Harry reached for the pail and started forcefully vomiting what was left of the small lunch he managed to force down a couple of hours ago. He was vaguely aware of the bed dipping beside him and Snape's hand gently running across his still sore back.

His head and scar started to ache terribly and then, for reasons he'd never know, while he was leaning over his bed, still holding the pail in front of his face, feeling the soft circles of Snape's hand on his lower back, a flash of a vision sprang up in front of his eyes-

_The dungeons where a body lay in the corner, seemingly forgotten, only his dirty red hair could be seen... The feeling of anticipation for what was to come... back to The Ministry of Magic; how easy it was to get in again, the world at his fingertips to do with what he'd like... Finally deciding that this was the perfect place for his display._

Harry immediately started vomiting again, but this time for a completely different reason. He finally knew - Charlie Weasley was dead. His body was now sitting at the Ministry of Magic.

Seeing another round of vomiting starting so close to the first, Snape stood up off the bed and kneeled down beside it, taking hold of the pail when the teen's hands started shaking too much to hold it. When the round turned to dry heaves and then finally subsided, Harry fell onto his knees on the floor, immediately throwing his hands to cover his face and started crying, not caring if the man next to him could hear the sobs. Another person had died because of him; how many more people would continue to die so he could fulfill this damned prophecy? How could his one life really be worth more than all of these other people's lives?

"Harry?" he heard Snape whisper into his ear, startling him. "What is wrong?"

Harry didn't care what anyone would have said if they saw him. Ron would have had a fit, but did that really matter anymore? His friend would never forgive him now anyway, not once he found out his brother was dead. All Harry knew was in that moment it felt right when he reached over and continued to cry onto Snape's shoulder. It also felt right when Snape draped his arms across Harry's shoulders pulling him into a strong embrace. Harry continued to cry against the man that he subconsciously knew had been there for him through this last awful month and a half. He felt hopeless and desperately needed someone to help hold him up, otherwise he was sure he'd never make it back. When it finally seemed like the young wizard had gained some kind of control over himself, he leaned back against the bed trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Charlie's dead," he said sitting forward to rest his head on his lifted knees. "I saw his body in a cell somewhere and now he's at the Ministry of Magic."

Snape stiffened, "Was this a vision? Just now?"

Harry nodded, his face still resting on his knees muffling his answer, "Yes, it was a vision. I think I'm going to be sick again."

Snape leaned over and grabbed the pail just in time for more vomiting, not caring if it was the chemotherapy or anxiety causing it. This was not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be able to break this news gently to Harry.

"We have to tell the Weasley's," Harry said, speaking quickly, his ears turning red with embarrassment. He lifted his head, his glasses were askew and his eyes were red and swollen with tears, "They're going to hate me even more now."

"They already know Harry," the professor said, summoning a glass of water that he handed to the distraught Gryffindor. "His body was found this morning."

"You knew didn't you? When was he killed?"

"That is not important Harry," he said, voice full of sorrow. "Look at me."

There was a brief hesitation, but Harry eventually looked up at Snape, emerald green eyes dulled with pain - physical and emotional - met black eyes filled with concern for the teenager in front of him.

"This had nothing to do with you," Snape said clearly so Harry had no choice but to listen, reiterating the message he gave only hours earlier. "The Order and the Aurors are taking care of this and right now all you need to focus on is taking care of yourself."

"This all seems so pointless! People are literally dying while I sit here doing nothing. I should-"

Snape raised his hand cutting off the excuse that was surely coming from the Gryffindor. "This is not pointless," Snape angrily exclaimed, "I did not come back here to save you only to watch you die at the hands of Voldemort. I will not let that happen!"

Harry's eyes went wide for two reasons; this was the first time Snape had admitted explicitly that whatever it was he did to come to this world was to save Harry's life. However the reason he settled on saying to the professor was, "You said his name."

"It got your attention, did it not?" the former spy said holding his left forearm trying to hide his pain, "I think you need a change of scenery. Let's go to the sitting room."

"Thank you Severus," Harry eventually said after thinking through what had happened. He leaned against the man once again before they walked to the sitting room. "For everything you've done for me."

~~~~SS~~~~

The rest of Saturday night was spent out in the sitting room with Harry falling in and out of sleep on the sofa timed, not so surprisingly, based on when his pain medication was wearing off. _Breakthrough pain_ \- the term the professor found when searching through the muggle textbooks - was common in cancer patients as the threshold of pain was over that which many commonly used medications could stop. Severus spent the night with a cup of coffee, reviewing as many of the muggle medical books as he could. He had notes scribbled throughout the books and what started as just familiarizing himself with the names, purposes, and side effects of Harry's plentiful medications turned into a deep desire to find out how Harry managed to get the Leukemia in the first place; an endeavor that would require extensive muggle and wizarding research. Intuition told him this was important to figure out at any cost and, for better or worse, his intuition was usually correct.

He must have fallen asleep because sometime around three in the morning, he felt the now familiar buzz of the sphere waking him up. Confused, because Harry should have been asleep on the sofa beside him, he walked the all too familiar route to the lavatory. Harry was sitting against the wall on the floor doubled over in pain, holding his stomach, sweat beading down his face, his pyjamas clinging to his chest.

_Not again..._

"I-I don't know... what happened," he said from the floor as Severus knelt down besides Harry with a heavy heart.

"Is it your stomach? Different from nausea?" The professor reached out to feel Harry's forehead, confirming there was no fever.

"Y-yes," Harry nodded as he said it. "It's the... b-burning again."

Alton mentioned that the new Saturday-only medication could cause stomach pain, but this not only seemed excessive, but Harry yet again has described it as burning. He summoned Harry's red blanket and draped it over the teen's shoulders hoping to warm him up as much as he could.

"Let me go call Alton," he said, walking out to firecall his friend hating that he had to leave Harry alone in the bathroom.

Even though Healer Smithe lived in the muggle world, when he agreed to take on Harry as a patient full-time, he added his fireplace to the floo network in case of an emergency. Thus less than 5 minutes later, the healer was entering Severus's sitting room and quickly running to the lavatory.

The Potions Master stayed at the door while the healer ran through several diagnostic spells and collected blood samples for his muggle testing. Yet again, everything came back normal from the diagnostic spells. Severus punched the door frame in frustration because while he would rather nothing else be wrong, normal meant he couldn't do anything to fix it.

"Unfortunately, consolidation does tend to be hard on the body, similar to the induction phase. People think that getting the Leukemia into remission is the difficult part, but keeping it gone can be just as taxing.

"You can consider a morphine pump, but honestly given how the IV is helping now that might be an extreme I'm not sure we're at yet," Alton said once Harry was back in his bedroom with an IV of morphine allowing him enough relief to fall asleep. "I'll stay until this bag ends and then let's see how he does the next couple of days. It might only be the Cyclophosphamide, which is done only the first two Saturdays of each round and we can plan on utilizing the IV morphine on those days. "

With a hard sigh, the professor went back to sit by Harry's bed. This was the best plan they had and Severus absolutely hated it.

* * *

Luckily, Sunday's chemo saw less pain than Saturday's. Harry was still plagued with the nausea and vomiting along with what they now appropriately named _normal-pain_ , but unfortunately they were both getting used to that - eat when you can, sleep when you can.

Severus was livid when Albus called an Order meeting Sunday night at headquarters which he was required to attend. Since Draco was not allowed to be at any meetings, all correspondence to and from their newest spy had to go through Severus. Unfortunately this meant his presence was needed at every meeting and it left very few options to stay with Harry. He was nearly about to risk skipping the meeting altogether when Minerva firecalled to remind him that she was Harry's guardian and had no qualms about dealing with Albus for skipping the gathering to stay with him.

Minerva was set to arrive only five minutes before the Order meeting leaving Severus with as little time as possible to socialize before its start, something he hated doing on the best of days and definitely didn't want to deal with today. He had planned to meet with Draco before her arrival, so after dressing in his typical black robes, which he had not worn nearly enough this summer holiday, he sat back down in his office to review the medical books and journals.

The parchment appeared directly in front of his face shortly after starting _Muggle Diseases in Witches and Wizards: An Introduction to a Medicinal and Healing Cross-Discipline_ announcing Draco's arrival.

"Evening Severus," Draco arrogantly greeted as the professor opened his door.

"You seem smug this evening," Severus replied, leading Draco into the sitting room, not in the mood for any of the blonde Slytherin's antics tonight.

"Well, let's just say it feels good to finally be appreciated for something," he then had a disgruntled look about his face, "even if I'm not trusted enough to actually attend the meetings."

This had been a point of conflict with the teenager. Naturally, he assumed that taking the dark mark would automatically put him at the same level of respect Severus had, to which the professor grimmly laughed. Instead, most members of the order still had at least one good reason not to trust Draco regardless of his proclaimed change of allegiance - something Severus himself still fought at each Order meeting. In the end, it was decided that Draco would not attend the meetings as a way to help compartmentalize the information should Draco be captured and tortured for information. Simply put, one could not divulge secrets - accidentally or intentionally - if that person did not have those secrets to begin with.

"We do this to win a war," the former spy explained, "not to feed your ego. If you're not up to the task let me know, though I doubt at this point you'd live long enough to enjoy wherever it is you end up."

Draco narrowed his eyes to his mentor deciding to cut the supposed pleasantries, "What is it you need from me?"

"We need to know why the Dark Lord chose to release the body yesterday," Severus said plainly.

Draco didn't hide his confused face fast enough; showing yet another skill the professor would need work with him on.

"Why does it matter?"

"To you it does not; all you need to concern yourself with is finding out if that date had any significance," he was losing his patience with the teenager in front of him but decided this time to provide a little more direction than what was completely necessary. "If, for example, the Dark Lord wanted a large audience to prove a point, one would think a weekday would have been preferred. Since that is not what happened, we need to know if the date was significant and if so, why."

The clock above the mantle read five to eight, Minerva would be here any second. Severus stood signaling a dismissal to his young protégé. As expected, the floo roared to life and Minerva gracefully stepped out in her casual tartan robes, hair still in its signature tight bun. She moved to greet Severus, eyeing Draco; surprised to see the young Slytherin casually standing in the room.

"Good evening Severus," Minerva said, still keeping a close watch on Draco, "I take it I can expect no problems here tonight?"

"None at all" Severus grabbed Draco's arm, a bit harder than necessary, "Mr. Malfoy was just leaving."

Draco nodded both in his agreement to leave and that he understood what his first real assignment was to be with the Death Eaters. As soon as Severus heard the outside door to his quarters close, he turned to Minerva.

"Harry shouldn't have any issues for you as he recently had his medication and is thankfully sleeping," he looked away from his colleague's intrigued and sympathetic eyes.

"We'll be fine Severus," she said, picking up on how uncomfortable he was with this conversation. "I'll follow up with Albus directly about the meeting. You go before you're late!"

In the end, it was indeed beneficial for him to have attended the meeting. He learned Charlie's funeral was set for the following Saturday afternoon, meaning even if Harry was welcome to go - which Molly insisted he was and that Ron had gotten severely punished and a lecture about the value of friendship - he would not be able to go. He dreaded merely the thought of telling Harry that news.

He also learned Bill was making significant progress on breaking the unknown curse used on Ginny. He turned to Severus asking if he'd known the core material of Bellatrix's wand. The information was needed to help isolate pieces of the dark magic she had used as part of the curse. Unfortunately Severus did not know that information offhand, but said he would consult with Draco so they could obtain it. This was to be a top priority to the Order; the longer Ginny went untreated the harder it would be to remove the curse.

The only update he provided was that Draco had succeeded in taking the dark mark - something Molly thought was deplorable of them as a group to support and nearly walked out looking as if she wanted to slap Albus in the process - but that Draco still had a long way to get even close to the rank to replace Severus. The headmaster agreed to put together a set of innocuous information Draco could feed to Voldemort to help boost his level of trust within the ranks, similar to what he did for Severus all those years ago.

"Severus," Molly called out to him as he was about to floo back to his quarters the second the meeting ended. Trying not to audibly sigh, he turned to Molly; he should have anticipated this.

"How's Harry feeling?"

Her kind eyes tore straight through him and he questioned for the first time if this woman would have been in his place had he not changed realities. Would Harry have been living at the Burrow this whole time instead?

"Not well I'm afraid. I should-" he started.

"Please," Molly interrupted in a voice that was both sweet and angry at the same time, "let him know that we don't place any blame on him. Ron is practically grounded until he gets married for both what he said and did. I cannot believe his choice of actions. When Harry's up for visitors, I would love to come by and see him."

The professor pinched the bridge of his nose and said noncommittally before leaving, "I'll relay the message."

When he landed back in his quarters he was relieved to find it was still quiet and calm. Not seeing Minerva in the sitting room, he immediately went to Harry's bedroom listening carefully for the telltale signs of his vomiting. Satisfied with the silence, he peeked in and breathed a sigh of relief as Harry lay asleep in his bed. He carefully pulled the green bedspread neatly over Harry's thin frame and as silently as he entered, left the room.

Minerva had just finished making a pot of tea in the kitchen when Severus entered. Without saying a word, she carefully set out two cups on the table and generously poured the tea into them and then placed a plate of biscuits on the table alongside the tea. For a moment Severus forgot he was in his own quarters.

"You don't need to do this alone Severus," Minerva lectured once they were both seated, a blanket draped neatly over her shoulders keeping her warm against the cool dungeon air. "Not only is it too much for one person to do alone, it's hardly your responsibility."

"If I remember correctly, you were the one who challenged me to get Harry to his follow up appointment," that conversation seemed like it happened years ago. Sometime when he thought hard enough about it, his other reality also seemed like years ago, except the day of Harry's death; that day would forever haunt him regardless of whichever reality he lived in.

"I hardly expected it to play out as it has," she said carefully, "no one could have expected something like this to happen."

Severus took a too long sip of his tea - chamomile, an appropriate choice for the night - while trying to avoid eye contact with his colleague, but failed. One quick glance up and she could tell somehow he had known about it. She gave a small gasp and covered her mouth with her aged, but not frail, hand.

"Severus, don't tell me you somehow had knowledge about this?" She waited for him to deny her accusation. When he didn't, she shook her head and continued, "Either way, that still does not mean you need to handle an ill child all alone, especially one that until recently you despised. Let me help you."

It had been a trying weekend between Harry's care, Charlie Weasley's death, the Order meeting, and Draco's training. Somehow while all of that was weighing in on his mind, when he started talking to his former professor and probably the closest person to a friend he had at Hogwarts besides Albus, it wasn't about any of that at all. Instead he told her all about his other life; about the adoption, about the Dark Lord or lack thereof, about the cancer and the infamous crossroads, about Harry's death, and about coming back to this world. He filled her in on what had happened since waking up here; the appointments and diagnosis, the surgery for Harry's port placement, about Harry's relatives and cousin, and about how responsible he felt for the young man sleeping down the hall, who still felt like his son, but in this life he somehow managed to slip through every crack leaving him practically alone.

Minerva listened without prejudice. She kept an open mind when Severus said he had lived another life and didn't interrupt when he spoke, almost in a trance, about the life he'd built for himself and Harry, the biological son of his school time nemesis. She didn't even try holding back the tears when she learned of Harry's death in that other life. She continued to pour them tea until it was well past midnight and Severus warned that she should go since Harry would probably wake up soon as he was close to needing his next dose of pain medication. Minerva placed her hand over Severus's and told him she would stay and help.

While Severus may have walked out of a calm home that evening and back into one, it was anything but calm during the Order meeting. Harry had been up several times vomiting until he had no more energy to move. Minerva sat with him on the lavatory floor covering him in a blanket, even though he was sweating, before she managed to help him back into bed. It was at that moment, she vowed to help Severus in any and all ways that she could and after hearing his story of how he lived a different life she was more determined than ever to help him gain back what he had lost. After all, both of those boys deserved nothing less.

* * *


	23. The Funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up on my POV's going forward, starting with this chapter. When I write I really try to keep a single timeline and then just change who is telling that part of the story. There are only a handful of times where I've had to go back in time to retell something in another POV, but as the story progresses and I'm finding Harry and Snape in situations where they're not together as often, it's becoming more common (like when classes starts) I'll try to make it obvious that you're going back in time a bit for the new POV.

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_Severus walked into the sitting room in his home on Spinner's End after spending another night of long hours in his potions lab. This summer he had been working on a commissioned project and although it paid well, it also made for a lot of late nights. It was after midnight, so he was surprised to see Harry still up and sitting at the desk writing._

_"You're up late," Severus said quietly so as not to surprise his son from behind._

_Harry, who celebrated his 15th birthday only two weeks ago, turned around - not at all surprised - with an apprehensive look in his eyes._

_"Aunt Petunia died three days ago," Harry said in a daze holding up what Severus assumed to be the latest correspondence with his cousin Dudley._

_Severus would have been happy if Harry had never spoken to the Dursleys ever again, however the Gryffindor had a capacity for forgiveness that rivaled Lily's, so when Dudley asked to meet with Harry last summer, Severus supported him. The meeting had gone surprisingly well and since then the two boys had been writing to each other regularly and even met up over the last Easter break. Now, the professor could hear the confliction in his son's voice from this news._

_"How do you feel about that?" He asked treading lightly; planning to follow Harry's lead on it. He pulled up a chair next to the desk Harry was sitting at._

_"It was a car accident, isn't that ironic? For all the times they lied to me about how my parents died... It's karma," Harry said unprompted, then he paused before continuing, "I feel bad for Dudley. Besides that, I don't really feel much of anything. Is that wrong of me?"_

_"Not at all," Severus said squeezing Harry's shoulder in support. "In fact, I think that's quite normal given the situation you were in."_

_Severus wished he could understand what Harry was going through. This was another example of Harry's pure soul because when Tobias Snape died only two months after Severus took the dark mark, he didn't even feel an ounce of grief for his father's death nor any guilt about not feeling any grief. If anything he was happy to never see the man again. Harry though was visibly torn by this news and his feelings regarding it._

_"Dudley asked me to attend the funeral this Sunday," the young wizard said, turning his attention fully to Severus. "Will you come with me?"_

_The professor paused, frozen in time; was this really a good idea? No, he knew that without even thinking too hard about it. The last time he'd seen the Dursley's he had more than made a scene in their pristine, perfect neighborhood. That being said, he could not deny Harry the request if he needed the support._

_"Of course," he said knowing this was going to be a bad idea_ _all around._

_It was raining when Severus woke up Sunday morning, the day of Petunia Dursley's funeral. The night before, he had transfigured their dress robes into black muggle suits so they wouldn't stand out for the occasion. The last thing anyone needed was to have Vernon Dursley running his mouth about magic and freaks, however that also meant he could not use any spells to keep themselves dry from the pouring rain. It was bound to be a miserable day for them all._

_They were dressed and ready in plenty of time and Severus disapparated them near the cemetery in Surrey. They walked to the cemetery in silence; Severus running through all the things he should not do today should any issues arise._

_"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked Harry one more time before they made their way into the crowd._

_"Yeah," Harry said leaning onto his father, "I have to do this, not just for Dudley, but for myself too."_

_"I understand," the professor replied solemnly pointing to a couple of chairs in the back row. He had plenty of practice in his life trying not to stand out in a crowd. "Just in case, let's sit near the back."_

_They took their seats for the small service by the graveside, covered in an awning to protect the guests from the heavy rain, and watched carefully as Dudley and Vernon approached. It was a lovely service and somehow they managed to find four people to speak of what a wonderful woman, wife, and mother Petunia was causing Severus the need to use every Occlumency shield he had to remain calm. The woman was vile and deserved none of what was being said. When they asked if anyone else had words about Petunia they would like to share, it was difficult for Severus to resist, but a funeral was no place for a fight._

_After the service, as everyone was gathering before heading back to Privet Drive for the reception - luckily something Harry did not wish to attend - Severus walked with Harry slowly up to the gravesite of his aunt. There were framed pictures all around showing a seemingly perfect life that she had lived with her husband and son and zero evidence that her nephew had lived with them for 10 long and painful years._

_"Excuse me," an elderly woman with short curled grey hair tapped Harry on the shoulder and Severus was instantly on alert for any trouble. "Are you that Potter boy? Petunia's nephew?"_

_It was obvious Harry recognized this woman and was surprised that she specifically called him out, "Hi Mrs. Carewell, yes that's me."_

_"It's so good to see you son," she patted his arm in sympathy, "I had wondered what happened to you. It seemed you just never came back one summer after... What school was that? Venon said something for criminals?"_

_Severus couldn't stand to listen to anymore of this nonsense and cleared his throat to interrupt the conversation, "Harry goes to a school for the gifted."_

_Mrs. Carewell started to blush, "That makes much more sense. You were always such a quiet boy. And who are you?" She asked of Severus; his dark hair and black suit made him look intimidating to anyone who didn't already know him_ \- _and maybe a few that did._

_"Oh," Harry said without missing a beat and a smile on his face for the first time that day, "this is my fath-"_

_"YOU!"_

_Severus was instantly on alert, standing directly in between Harry and the direction of the unmistakable sound of Vernon Dursley yelling across the lawn. If that arsehole thought he was going to try to lay a hand on Harry, it would be the last thing he did on this Earth. Severus wouldn't care one bit that they were at the funeral for the man's wife, he would do whatever it took to protect Harry._

_On cue, Vernon waddled up to them faster than a man of that size should be able to; his face purple with rage._

_"How dare you show your face here?" Harry's irate uncle growled at him beyond Severus's shoulder._

_The other guests were murmuring - Mrs. Carewell had long left - but none attempted to step in and help even as Vernon reached for Harry. Luckily, Severus had been well trained, just in case, as both a Death Eater and spy and grabbed the man's arm, inches from Harry's chest, twisting as he pulled the large man away from Harry. As expected, Vernon bellowed in pain, something that Severus didn't feel bad about one bit._

_"Dad!" Severus turned at the word, not lightening up his grip at all, but it was not Harry that called him. Instead, Dudley was coming down the hill towards all the commotion speaking to Vernon. "Leave 'em alone Dad, I asked Harry to be here."_

_With Dudley now directly in front of them and, if possible, even more spectators looking on, Severus let go of his grip simultaneously backing up closer to Harry. Dudley pulled Vernon away, talking quickly to the man, until somehow he convinced Harry's uncle to leave them be._

_"Thanks Dudley," Harry greeted his cousin while watching Vernon walk away with a defiant look to his face. "I'm sorry about you mum."_

~~~~SS~~~~

"What do you mean I can't go?" Harry asked, sounding completely defeated after breakfast on Wednesday morning, which for the young Gryffindor consisted of only a smoothie as he was still queasy from the four days of chemotherapy.

Given how hard the last set of treatments were on him, Severus had made the decision to wait to tell Harry about not being able to attend Charlie's funeral until now, knowing it would be an issue.

"Is there a certain part you're having a difficult time grasping?" Severus asked partially sarcastic, partially because he wanted Harry to get to the conclusion himself. It had been a rough couple of nights for Harry, and by extension Severus, so neither were in the best mood to discuss the upcoming funeral arrangements.

"Do you always answer a question with a question?" Harry spat back without much bite behind it, but he got his point across. "Because it's bloody annoying sometimes."

"Watch the language. Let's go through this again," Snape said slowly and a bit more condescending than he meant but he didn't appreciate having to explain himself twice since Harry likely didn't listen to much after he knew he would not be allowed to attend, "First, the Weasley's are a big family and quite well known, ergo there will likely be at least a hundred people present all of which could infect you unknowingly with a wide range of infectious germs.

"Second," Severus said interrupting Harry before he could get a word in edgewise, "I highly doubt you'd like to cause any problems that may arise when the youngest Mr. Weasley sees you at his brother's funeral; no one wants any fighting - muggle or wizarding - at a funeral. Trust me, it's not something you want to experience.

"Lastly, and the one I deem the most significant, you will _literally_ be in the middle of your five hour chemotherapy. So unless you plan on doing it from the gravesite, you simply cannot go."

Somehow Harry managed to give Severus a fiery glare which he removed the moment Minerva walked into the kitchen presumably from the floo. She walked in and peered between the professor and student clearly having heard the tail end of their conversation.

"Harry," his transfiguration professor said walking confidently up to her lion, correctly guessing why he was so upset, "Severus is just doing what's in your best interest, I know it's hard to see that right now."

Severus was grateful for Minerva's help the last two days as she had been over each day to help Harry through his four hour chemotherapy. The new medications were hitting Harry hard, which was difficult for all of them. So now Harry had two adults fully watching him and Severus guessed he was feeling a bit suffocated from it being so different than what he's used to.

Eventually Harry sat back down at the table and looked over to Severus with sad eyes, "I need to go sir. Sirius didn't have a funeral and I couldn't go to my aunt and uncle's funeral, not that I particularly wanted to go to that one, but it's just..." He took a cleansing breath but didn't finish.

"I'm sorry Harry, but you cannot go," Severus explained placing his hand on top of Harry's. He understood where Harry was coming from; he wanted closure for the deaths he felt directly responsible for, no matter how mistakenly placed that blame was. "Alternatively, if you'd like, Molly had asked to come see you when you're feeling up for visitors. I can ask her to come over beforehand."

"No," Harry immediately responded, "she has enough to worry about this week without adding me to the mix of it all."

The professor was positive Harry believed that excuse, but he suspected it was more that he was afraid she would blame him as Ron had done even though Severus assured him she did not feel the same.

~~~~HP~~~~

As expected Harry tried to plead yet again come Friday that he wanted to go to Charlie's funeral, which Snape repeatedly denied on the same grounds as before. At this point, he knew there was literally zero chance he would be able to go and he just didn't have the energy to continue to argue against Snape any longer, especially in the professor's currently short mood.

Harry had been plagued with nightmares every night that week - most likely from thoughts of the funeral - which kept him up most nights and every time he was up, Snape was up with him. Harry appreciated this sentiment, even if it embarrassed him a little, because he was used to dealing with them alone both at Privet Drive and in the dorms here at school. This, however, led to a short temper for both of them by the end of the week and as a result Snape spent most of the days locked away in his office or lab.

Professor McGonagall had dinner with them on Friday night, which was awkward for Harry because even though he'd gotten used to seeing his professors casually now, he had never had such a private dinner with his Head of House before. She was more relaxed than he'd ever seen her and Harry was able to see the true friendship between her and Snape; even if the defense professor would never admit to such a thing. Before she left that night, she promised to send his well wishes to the Weasley's for him at the funeral the next afternoon. It wasn't exactly ideal for Harry, but it was the best he was going to get.

Saturday morning - the day of Charlie's funeral and the start of Harry's second week of consolidation chemotherapy - he already had the intrathecal done and was laying on the sofa in the sitting room having recently started his 5 hour medication when Snape rushed into the room from his private office looking wildly around the room clearly disturbed over something.

Since that door housed both his office and laboratory Harry couldn't say for sure which one the professor had recently been using. The Gryffindor knew Snape's dark mark had started burning again at least once this week because he had seen the wrapping around Snape's forearm; showing that the latest burn salve had not worked, likely contributing to the professor's foul mood. He had heard Malfoy stop by that same night, but no matter how many times he tried to listen in at the office door, it was clearly warded against eavesdropping. This led him to believe the professor had been working on the salve most of the time, but since he valued his life, he didn't dare ask.

Interestingly, Snape was dressed in his black teaching robes which made Harry's anxiety rise just thinking about classes with him. There were only two weeks left until the start of term, and he was relieved he would not have to endure classes with Snape at least to start. He was honestly nervous about where his relationship stood with the professor, given everything they've dealt with this summer. Would things go back to the way they used to be when they both mutually hated each other, even though they no longer did? Or would they shock the rest of the school when they actually got along?

"Where are you going?" Harry asked watching the professor pace the room searching for something.

"Where is my book?" Snape asked to no one in particular, but Harry was the only one in the room.

If the chemo hadn't already started taking its toll on Harry and he were feeling better, he would have laughed at Snape's vague comment. Not only was it abnormal for something to be out of place in his quarters, but there were literally dozens upon dozens of books stored here. It was like asking for a specific snowflake in the middle of a blizzard.

"Care to give me any information on which book?" Harry waited as Snape continued to search going to and from his office, then into the kitchen, and finally - Harry assumed - to the professor's bedroom. When Snape came back into the sitting room, he was carrying a large stack of parchment and one of the muggle medical books. "Are you eventually going to answer me?"

Snape turned around to look at the teenager behind him and Harry's heart rate rose with the glare he received. Something was off and it was concerning that it fell on the day of Charlie's funeral.

"Unfortunately I am needed elsewhere this afternoon," he hesitantly replied which was a surprise to Harry; where _was_ he going? "Alton will be staying with you until my return."

"Where are you going?" He'd officially gone in a full circle. That was the first question he'd asked Snape and yet after all this time it still went unanswered, which probably was not a coincidence.

"It is none of your concern."

_Should have expected that. I'm really getting tired of that answer._

Harry watched as Snape was sorting through the pieces of parchment appearing to put them in some kind of order, not at all hiding his agitation. Was he angry that Harry had been up with nightmares all week?

"What's wrong sir?" Harry had been living almost exclusively with Snape for six weeks and he shivered at the thought that he could now tell when something was legitimately wrong with the professor versus when he was simply annoyed. This definitely seemed like the former.

However, before Snape could say another word, the floo roared to life and Healer Smithe came walking out with his standard black bag. Harry was briefly jealous and questioned to himself how a wizard who has been living in the muggle world for so long managed to floo better than he did. He was committed to learning to tolerate at least one form of _common_ magical travel.

"Good afternoon Harry," the healer greeted making himself comfortable in the sitting room by pulling out some of his files to review while sitting in the non-Snape armchair. Now the Gryffindor officially felt like a toddler being babysat, but remembering how last Saturday went he couldn't say much against it. He was extremely nervous for how today would go because he really hated that burning feeling in his core. Hopefully, taking the IV morphine ahead of time would help prevent any of those issues today.

Snape placed the books and parchment back into his office as the wizarding doorbell deposited a different piece of parchment directly in front of the professor. Harry tried to get a good look at the parchment, but as always Snape incinerated it before he got the chance.

"I have to go," he told the healer, again giving Harry the feeling of a father talking to his toddler's babysitter, "if you need anything, I'll have the sphere with me, however I'd prefer no interruptions for the next several hours. Surely there's nothing that can come up you won't be able to handle on your own."

_That sounds ominous. Where is he going? He wouldn't really wear teaching robes to the funeral, would he?_

Again, Harry wasn't given the chance to ask as the professor simply stormed out the door, with the familiar billowing of his robes behind him, leaving Harry wondering why he didn't floo to wherever he was going.

Harry spent the next couple of hours in what he referred to as his chemotherapy routine - consisting of any combination of reading, vomiting, playing chess with Healer Smithe, trying to sleep, and trying to eat. This time though after attempting all of that at least once, he decided to pick up one of his muggle pencils and tried sketching in the notebook Snape had gotten him for his birthday. It was something he enjoyed doing in his muggle primary school - and was pretty good at for an eight year old - and sometimes during the summers at the Dursley's to pass the time locked in his bedroom. With the Weasley's fresh on his mind he started with Ginny, picturing her in his head, with her long red hair and pale, but quite beautiful, freckled complexion. Before he knew it, he was completely focused on his work drawing Ginny flying on the Quidditch pitch only needing to stop a couple of times to sick up in the loo - Healer Smithe following him each time - but he could have sworn it was less than normal; at least it seemed so. Overall, it ended up being a good distraction from the nausea and throbbing pain throughout his body and he was happy with how it was coming along.

Before he knew it, the chemo was completed and he was getting the IV of morphine to hopefully combat the awful stomach pains from last Saturday. At least for the next two Saturdays he wouldn't need to do the 5 hour chemos since the next two were his slow weeks; only the IT plus one hour of the same medication he got during his induction phase. It seemed ironic to be happy about doing the same routine he had done back at Privet Drive when back then it felt horrible. Now that he had something worse to compare it to, it was the highlight of this phase. With any hope, he might have some more energy in the upcoming two weeks, right before classes started.

The morphine evidentially helped Harry fall asleep because the next thing he knew, he found himself waking up to the sound of pages flipping next to him. He pulled the blanket that had been placed on top of him tightly around his chest relishing in the warmth surrounding his thin body. The benefit of the always chilly dungeon was getting to wrap up in a warm blanket, a feeling he secretly loved.

Opening his eyes to a dark blurry room, Harry reached out for his glasses taking note that whoever was reading beside him must have removed them while he was sleeping. Once they were firmly in place on his head, he looked around the dark room. The sun had clearly set and only the lanterns in the far corners of the room were lit giving a soft orange glow. The fire was warm in front of him casting shadows over the reader to his right. Now that his mind was waking up, he knew it wasn't Snape because this person was not in Snape's chair. He felt his heart catch in his throat when he realized who was sitting with him, a ball of light over her head to provide ample reading light without waking Harry.

"Morning Harry," her soft voice whispered, echoing across the stone walls.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" he asked sleepily and rubbed his eyes from under his glasses; smearing them in the process, but he didn't care. "You should be at the Burrow with... Everyone."

Hermione placed the book on the table in front of them. She was still dressed in her conservative black knee length dress from the funeral with her bushy hair pushed as neatly as possible behind her ears. Harry felt embarrassingly out of place in his pyjamas next to her.

"Mrs. Weasley asked me to come stay with you for a bit," she explained leaning over closer to him, "Professor Snape floo'ed over here with me, but then he went back with your healer. Apparently his wards won't let just anyone floo in alone... which is brilliant really."

The Gryffindor witch was much more cautiously optimistic of Harry's newfound relationship with the professor, even though she claimed to be perfectly accepting of it. Having spent an abnormal amount of their school time - both inside and outside of the classroom - hating Professor Snape, she was naturally adverse to the idea of Harry living with the man now, but at the same time she was open-minded enough to see that something this summer had changed between them. She was also smart enough to know she wouldn't find out what that was if she ostracized Harry from the start.

"He was at the funeral?" Harry asked quietly to his only friend right now.

No matter how hard he tried, the wizard couldn't hide the disappointment from his voice. Harry obviously knew he wouldn't be allowed to go to the funeral, but the idea that Snape omitted the fact _he_ was attending hurt him inside. Snape was never one to sugar coat anything - something that Harry had always appreciated - however by not telling Harry he was going, the professor did exactly that. Right now he depended on Snape's honesty when everyone else around him simply told him the things they thought he wanted to hear. Now he wasn't sure if he'd be able to trust what the former spy was telling him as the truth.

"No," Hermione exclaimed quickly. Then, picking up on Harry's torn emotions regarding Snape at the funeral, she awkwardly continued, "I mean, I guess so... I didn't realize he was there at first... I think he was trying to... stay hidden in the back with Malfoy."

"Malfoy was there?!" Harry sat up straighter on the sofa ready to storm off, but unsure where he would go, "What the hell was Malfoy doing there?!"

He couldn't help letting his anger fill him up inside. Unfortunately, that was a bad thing to do because he found himself vomiting over the edge of the sofa into the pail. Taking a deep breath, once the pail cleaned itself out, he tried to calm himself down about the two Slytherins being at the funeral. What could that possibly mean? It definitely couldn't be anything good, but his brain was way too fuzzy to sort through that now. Maybe it had something to do with Voldemort? Was everyone at the funeral in danger?

"Well, he was- " Hermione tried to answer, but at the last second, Harry didn't want to put her in the middle of something she had no idea about so he interrupted her.

"How was it... The funeral? How was everyone?" He asked instead. It was a silly question really - even though he hadn't been to many funerals he knew they were sad.

"It was sad," Hermione predictably said, averting her eyes to the fireplace watching the flames flicker across the top. "They had the service at the cemetery and then everyone went back to the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley's heart is broken, which is expected. No one expects to bury their child."

Something about the way she said the last sentence hit him hard. She's right, no one should bury their child... Like Snape did in his old reality. Was that why he was so upset today? Did the funeral remind him of Harry's funeral from his old world? Harry hadn't realized he had gotten so used to the idea that this Snape was not only from somewhere else, but from a place where Harry was his son.

And now another set of parents were going through that horrible pain. This was too much for him. What good could honestly come from all of this? Why do all of these people continue to die while he's literally sitting here filling his body with a poison to try to stay alive? He had no idea how he was supposed to _vanquish the Dark Lord_ as the prophecy said he will, so what if everyone was protecting him and dying for nothing? What if they didn't need to be?

"Ron misses you," Hermione said so quietly that if it weren't for the lack of any other sounds in the room, he never would have heard her, but it was successful in drawing Harry away from his invasive thoughts and back into the conversation. She placed her hand on Harry's arm causing him to flinch at her touch, "not like he would say so, but I know he does. He regrets what he said and did... it's been hard for him you know."

"Hard!?... For him?!" Harry asked suddenly feeling threatened and furious, "Ron doesn't have a clue of what he's talking about if he's going to try to convince me this is only hard on _him._ I would give anything to trade places with him," Harry sharply pulled his arm away from Hermione then mumbled, "actually, no, I wouldn't... because I wouldn't wish my life on anyone, especially one of my best friends. This is awful and if he can't see that..."

Try as he might, he couldn't ignore the tears that he saw crawling down Hermione's cheeks when he looked up at her. Call it his Gryffindor chivalry, but he hated to see her cry; and it was even worse that he made her cry. She wiped them away, but more kept falling demonstrating how much she hated when her two best friends fought.

"It's not that Harry and you know it," her eyes pleaded with him to understand, "we all know how he gets with Professor Snape... _You_ of all people should know how he feels about Professor Snape, for all the time you've collectively hated him... And then to see you so comfortable here - enough to call him by his given name - it was just too much for him," she sniffled and tried unsuccessfully to regain her composure. "If you'll notice Harry, you still call his parents by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."

Harry paused. No, that wasn't true... Except now that he thought hard about it, it absolutely was and he hadn't even realized that until now. How many times had Mrs. Weasley asked him to call her Molly? After everything she'd done for him; treated him no different - maybe even better than - one of her own sons? And yet for some reason, it felt wrong to call her by her given name; like he would be an imposter in the Weasley family.

It definitely gave him something to consider though. Did he somehow insult Ron's family by using Snape's given name? If so, that wasn't his intentions at all and still didn't give Ron the right to say what he had. But why did it feel acceptable to call Snape by his name instead of the Weasley's? Maybe because Snape had no other family... just like Harry. In all his time living with the professor, he couldn't deny how much alike they were.

"Hermione," Harry asked when thinking about family, it brought up a question he'd been trying to sort through in his mind this last week, "can your parents visit you at Hogwarts? Like, if there was an emergency or something?"

Hermione seemed confused by the sudden change of subject but thought hard about the question, "That's interesting because muggles would see-"

"I remember all about the ruins," he interrupted her trying to prevent the lecture he was sure he was about to receive, "but there has to be exceptions for students. I mean, if something happened and your parents needed to come, how would they get here?"

"I don't know Harry; I'll do some research on it. Why do you ask though?" She sounded happy about the project and Harry couldn't help but stifle a laugh at her excitement over doing research in her summer.

"Oh, erm," Harry rubbed the back of his neck embarrassed and feeling a little vulnerable, "I was hoping to see Dudley soon, but I doubt I'll be allowed to leave here. So I thought maybe there was a way he could visit me."

"Let me see what I can find, but Harry, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore or Professor Snape would know the answer. You could always ask one of them."

Suddenly the floo roared to life and Healer Smithe walked out followed shortly by Snape, still dressed in his teaching robes that he apparently _did_ wear to the funeral.

"Good night Miss. Granger," Snape said dismissing her without any preamble and barely making eye contact with either student.

"Oh, um..." Hermione looked between Snape and Harry and back. "I was hoping to stay a little longer sir. If that's alright with you, I mean."

Snape narrowed his eyes, his jaw visibly clenched as he considered what she had asked. "As you wish, but Molly will be expecting you no later than midnight."

Snape waved his wand several times and a set of tea came levitating into the sitting room as he was walking out. The healer finished setting Harry up with another round of morphine while Hermione poured the tea, and then left as quickly as Snape did.

"What do you think is going on?" Hermione asked, having picked up on the cold mood of the professor. She placed her tea cup on the table in front of her.

Not hearing Hermione, Harry peered into his own cup and carefully placed it down next to hers. There was no way that was going to sit well in his roiling stomach now. Then as if she was reading his mind, a glass of ginger ale came levitating over Harry's head from the kitchen.

"Thanks 'Moine," he said, grabbing the glass and taking a tentative sip. The cold liquid felt refreshing on his dry throat and the ginger helped to settle the cramping of his stomach.

Hermione bit her lip in confusion, "Harry, I didn't summon that."

The wizard lowered his eyebrows in confusion feeling his face flush yet again, "Oh, Sev - erm... Professor Snape must have sent it in here for me."

"You call him whatever you'd like around me," she explained with a soft, warm smile, "I'm happy you feel comfortable around at least one adult to let them take care of you... especially now. You deserve this Harry, no matter what the reason is."

"I can't really explain it," Harry said sheepishly knowing that Snape would not only kill him for telling her, but she wouldn't believe him anyways.

"You don't need to... Oh Harry! I can't believe I forgot to tell you," she jumped up from her seat - causing him to startle slightly - and pulled out a stack of parchment, "I'm going to be one of your student tutors this year! Professor McGonagall sent me an owl the other day asking if I wouldn't mind, which of course I don't. I was practically yours and Ron's tutor anyways."

"That's great 'Mione. I know it's a lot of work, so thank you for doing it." Again he felt his ears turn red in embarrassment. It didn't matter if this arrangement was normal for his circumstances, it still seemed like he was getting a special exemption.

"It's nothing, really," she waved him off, "I'm covering your Charms and Transfiguration classes. Professor McGonagall said we'll have a meeting the first day of classes with the professors to go over the schedule and our expectations."

Harry smiled at his friend. She was in her element and for once Harry let her ramble about classes and lessons and homework as he wondered who else would be helping him this year. He never could have one normal year could he? And even though Voldemort had already made an attempt to get to him, Harry thought there was no way he was lucky enough that the dark wizard was done for the year. Between Hermione's rambling about schoolwork, his thoughts on Voldemort, and the new morphine, he had no hope of staying awake when his eyes started to get heavy with sleep.

~~~~SS~~~~

It wasn't fair to Harry and he knew it, but in order to get through the day with any sense of decorum, Severus needed to distance himself as much as possible from his young charge. If Harry knew he was going to the funeral beforehand, he would have been plagued with questions from the teenager that he could not answer.

Draco had come to him the day before declaring that he wanted to attend the funeral for Charlie Weasley, but knew he wouldn't be welcomed there. Severus understood, unfortunately from experience, that you never forgot the first person you tortured or killed as a Death Eater, and knowing the family - even if you seemingly hated them - only made it harder. Draco would never forget Charlie Weasley for as long as he lived. Naturally, Severus decided to use this as an opportunity to continue some of Draco's training on how to blend in and go unseen at a highly public event, especially because all of the Aurors patrolling would already be leaving them alone should they be seen.

The two Slytherins found themselves stealthily hiding at the back of the funeral ceremony covered by a well casted disillusionment charm courtesy of the newest Death Eater, neither saying a word to the other. It was a bright and sunny day, which was ideal for trying to cover up, but completely wrong for the atmosphere of the guests.

As the funeral proceeded Severus could tell Draco's part in it was weighing heavily on his young Slytherin's mind, but he resisted the urge to comment on it. Draco did what he had to do and regardless of his role that night, Charlie Weasley was considered dead the moment he was taken from the Burrow by Death Eaters. However, Severus knew telling the blonde those words would fall on deaf ears and he prayed to Merlin that, for Draco's sake, his first actual kill would be nameless and faceless.

It wasn't until everyone had supposedly left for the reception at the Burrow that either Slytherin felt comfortable enough to approach the gravesite. Surrounding the site were moving pictures of the family - Charlie when he was born and then as a little boy growing up already showing an affinity for magical creatures, Christmases as the family grew from four to seven to nine members large, Charlie's graduation from Hogwarts, and of course a wide range of pictures during his time in Romania with his dragons. All of this to show the life of a man who not only died far too soon, but a man that probably deserved to live more than Severus himself did.

"I'm glad you could make it," the defense professor was startled, unaware Molly Weasley had managed to sneak up on them - a testament to his current feelings.

"It was a lovely ceremony," was the first thing Severus thought to say knowing it was a filler for all the things he couldn't say; something everyone had told him after Harry's funeral and he now understood why.

"I'm sorry for your loss Mrs. Weasley," Draco's sincerity was not lost on the professor and he hoped the grieving mother would hear it too. "I wish-"

"We know you were there Draco," Molly's statement was not accusatory, but instead had sorrow laced within it. "I want you to know that I don't agree one bit with what Albus is asking of you..."

She trailed off, her voice trembling near the end, and Severus knew as a parent she was thinking what would happen if one of her other children were in Draco's position. Severus had gone down that winding path with Harry and it never ended well.

"I just want to help where I can Mrs. Weasley," Draco's voice wavered as he almost pleaded for her forgiveness. "If I had to take-"

"Mum? Everyone's heading..." They were interrupted again by Ron running over to find Molly, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of both Slytherins.

"What are _you_ doing here Malfoy?!" the youngest Weasley son spat.

"Paying my respect to your mother," Draco sounded confident without being arrogant, something that was new for the boy.

"Yeah right," it was clear Ron was looking to pick a fight, a side effect of his intense grief that Severus could relate to as he remembered the disastrous mess he left in his quarters after returning from Harry's funeral. "You're probably gloating you ferret. For all we know, you're already one of them-"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," Molly screeched, swatting at her son, "you will not do this today. Do you understand?!"

"Yes Mum," Ron's face immediately flushed in a combination of embarrassment and anger. He continued to speak to his mother, but not taking his eyes off Draco, "Dad said everyone is heading back and asked me to stay with you."

Severus shifted his weight awkwardly on his feet feeling like he was intruding on a personal family moment. Draco appeared just as uncomfortable, but likely because he would never have experienced such a tender moment within a family; his own always stoic and formal.

"I'll be right along," she brushed some invisible dust from the shoulder of Ron's dress robes, "don't you worry about me."

Ron glared over at the two men he thought - probably correctly - did not deserve to be at his brother's funeral and nodded before hanging his head and walking away.

"You should both stop by the Burrow," Molly too kindly invited them, "it's not much, but we would love to have you."

"Thank you," Severus said after it became obvious that the blonde was not wanting or able to speak, "we'll try to stop in."

By the time he made it to the Burrow - Draco having decided it was best he did not attend - Severus was already exhausted. He had not anticipated the funeral to be so draining on him. Charlie had been a student before Severus's fifth year teaching, but he hadn't had much other interactions with the young man. Since Charlie had not been an active part of the Order in Britain until recently, he didn't have much other reason to know him outside of Hogwarts.

And yet, maybe it was because his own son's funeral was so fresh in his mind or because he knew how hard Harry was taking this death back at his quarters. Either way, once it was over, he was emotionally drained when he walked back out of the floo and knew that by demanding Miss. Granger

leave it would almost guarantee her to stay until Harry had fallen asleep. Was it a Slytherin tactic? Yes. Was it cowardly? Absolutely. But he couldn't answer all the questions he knew Harry would ask.

It was almost midnight when he walked back into the sitting room with Alton, a glass of freshly poured firewhiskey in their hands. Harry was asleep on his back on the sofa, a piece of furniture that now had his body's imprint permanently impressed upon it and was closer to the piece he'd left in his old reality. Alton carefully, so as not to wake him up, disconnected the IV of morphine from his port and Severus pulled the blanket up to cover his now exposed chest.

"Poppy will be by tomorrow and Monday for the next two four hour doses and I'll be back Tuesday for the last four hour until September 7th," the healer was placing the medical supplies back in his bag and pulling out the refills of all of Harry's tablet medications. Hermione watched wide eyed as the men discussed her friend's care in front of her. "After Tuesday, he'll do 2 weeks of only IT and a one hour on Saturdays with the week off in between. The one hour is Vincristine which is what he had in induction, so hopefully it'll be easier on him before we start the next round. He had a heavy dose of Morphine tonight, so he shouldn't have too much in the way of the stomach pain again. As always, call me if anything urgent happens."

"Thank you Alton," Severus said, sounding exhausted, shaking the healer's hand. "Have a good night."

"Try to get some sleep Severus," he said before waving goodbye to Hermione and floo-ing back to his home.

"I should go sir," Hermione said, collecting her things from the table and the armchair she was sitting in.

Severus recognized that she felt uncomfortable in his presence; likely due to being with a professor in his quarters, during the summer.

"Miss. Granger," he said, keeping a very neutral tone, "you should not get into the habit of using magic in the summer holiday. I recognize you'll be 17 in only a month and the laws do not extend to Hogwarts, however school is not in session now."

Hermione looked flustered at being accused of something so bluntly, "I'm sorry sir, but I don't know what you're talking about."

Severus lifted one eyebrow contemplating what she'd said, "So it was not you who summoned the glass of ginger ale for Harry?"

Hermione shook her head, "No sir, we thought that was you."

Both professor and student looked over at the sleeping wizard on the sofa. Had Harry accidentally done magic without knowing it? If so, how many other times had this occurred and how much faster would these bouts of accidental magic drain his magical core? Without even thinking, Severus ran his hand over Harry's forehead, almost as if he were moving the fringe if he still had his hair.

"You care about him," Hermione finally said nervously. "If I may... He needs you sir. Harry hasn't had many adults he could really trust and depend on... hasn't had any actually. Sirius was close, but sometimes I think he wanted Harry to be James so much... and I think Harry was too different."

"You have no idea," Severus said, too quiet for the young witch to hear; referring to both how different Harry was from James and how much Severus cared about Harry. "You should go Miss. Granger."

"One more thing sir."

_She's really testing her luck tonight._

"Yes."

"Harry mentioned wanting to visit with his cousin," she said quickly, giving away how nervous she was. Severus respected the amount of courage it had to take for her to make such a request to the most hated professor at Hogwarts when he was obviously having a rough day. "And that's another relationship that's been quite awful for him, but somehow has turned around..."

She paused, likely hoping the professor would finish her thought for her.

"Continue," he prompted.

"I don't know if it's possible for muggles to come into the castle," she was going into one of her know-it-all lecture-modes, "I mean, it must _somehow_ be possible if there were any emergency during the school year-"

He finally had to put an end to his misery, "Yes Miss Granger, the Headmaster can grant the necessary provisions for a muggle to visit Hogwarts through the castle wards. I will discuss the matter with him. Now please go."

"Thank you sir," she called as he handed her the floo powder from the mantle and she left.

Turning back to Harry, Severus thought about what Hermione had said. Obviously he knew that Harry hadn't had any adults he could depend on, but he hadn't thought about what that meant in this reality. Harry had gone through so much alone here, it was no wonder he placed such importance on his friends. Severus absolutely hated the field of divinations - for obvious reasons - but he wished at that moment he could know if Harry and Ron would reconcile because Harry needed his friends as much as he needed a stable adult in his life. Making the Decision he didn't want to risk waking Harry up by moving him to his bedroom, Severus sat down in his armchair and pulled a blanket over himself to sleep out in the sitting room just in case Harry needed him tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Snape didn't mention anything about Petunia's death in the AU reality at the beginning of the story and that's simply because I hadn't decided she would die until I did the second rewrite of this chapter. I needed a funeral memory that wasn't Harry's or Lily's and since Sirius and Cedric lived in the AU, it had to be Petunia.


	24. The Half-Blood Prince

~~~~SS~~~~

Unfortunately, Severus did not get the chance to discuss the potential for Dudley's visit with Albus. He had every intention to, as he did agree with Hermione that the relationship Harry was forging with his cousin was important especially now given the row with Ron, but something always seemed to come up for either Severus or Albus.

With classes starting in a fortnight; teaching a new subject, plus his extra research on Harry's cancer alongside the accidental magic that Harry was unknowingly doing with exceptional control, and he was now onto his fifth attempt at a salve to stop the burning pain from his dark mark, the professor barely had time to think. It ended up being a good thing that Minerva had taken control of overseeing Harry's academic schedule as he would have had no capacity to make all the finalizations with the Board of Governors, professors at Hogwarts, and securing the adequate student tutors. In fact, Minerva ended up working all the way up until the day before term started finalizing his timetable, something neither Severus nor Harry had gotten a chance to see yet.

Albus called an Order meeting on the evening of the 31st of August to discuss the incoming students and how to ensure their safety aboard the Hogwarts Express. With Harry having been in the castle for the duration of the summer and technically not returning to classes, the headmaster was unsure if the Dark Lord would make an attempt to attack the train. As a way to help prevent anything from happening, Draco had been given the approval to provide Harry's location at Hogwarts through the end of the summer, but as usual Albus wanted to be extra cautious. This meant a full scale coordination within the Order to make sure the students arrived safely.

Unfortunately, Harry had his last chemotherapy treatment for his first month of consolidation on that day - which as with the previous week was an IT and one hour IV - and Severus was having a difficult time finding someone to stay with him while the professor was at the meeting. For the last Order meeting Minerva had stayed behind, however since this one was required by all members - in addition to Minerva - Molly, Arthur, and even Lupin, who was coming in from his field work, would all be in attendance and therefore unable to stay with the Gryffindor. He was going to ask Alton, as he had stayed with Harry during the funeral for Charlie Weasley, when the healer came by to disconnect Harry's chemotherapy, but Poppy had been sent instead. Frustratingly, Severus was not able to get in touch with Alton since that morning's IT procedure; something he planned to discuss with his friend about what to do in case there ever was an emergency with Harry and the healer was not available. All of that added up to Severus having no choice other than to grudgingly leave Harry alone this time and he was not happy about it at all.

"I'll be fine Severus," Harry said while pushing his small lunch around his plate. He had recently finished the chemotherapy and was hoping to eat before the nausea hit him too hard. Even the two easier chemotherapy weeks had been difficult for the Gryffindor. "At this point, I know what to expect and unless the burning comes back, I can pretty much get whatever it is I might need in the couple of hours you'll be gone. Plus, I can always use the sphere if it gets to be too much."

"Now that I think about it, I'm not sure if the sphere will work at headquarters with the Fidelius in place," Severus thought out loud; if he could firecall to headquarters, theoretically the sphere should work. However, even though he didn't foresee himself at Grimmauld Place often, it was definitely something they should consider testing for future issues. As if he needed anything to make him more anxious about leaving Harry alone tonight, now Harry may not even have a way to contact him.

"Either way, I'll be fine for a couple of hours," Harry reiterated standing up, having eaten less than half his yoghurt with almonds and side of sliced avocado; all foods that were recommendations from Alton to eat during chemotherapy to help Harry receive the calories and nutrients his body so desperately needed right now.

Whenever the Gryffindor did manage to go back to classes, Severus knew it would be a shock to the other students who last saw Harry as the small, yet strong and defiant Gryffindor. He had easily lost at least a stone - possibly even a stone and a half by now - in weight since the end of last term, and with his bald head and drawn face, he knew Harry was very self-conscious about his current appearance.

"Perhaps Miss. Granger could come to stay for at least a little while," neither Hermione nor any of the Weasley's had been to visit Harry since Charlie's funeral even though Severus had suggested they visit on multiple occasions. He had a suspicion that Harry was unintentionally pushing them away for reasons he had not yet figured out.

"Severus," Harry warned standing at the doorway, his green eyes pleading for the conversation to end as he started to visibly pale, "it's the day before school starts; she's packing. Trust me, I've been at the Burrow the day before school... it's a madhouse. I'll be just fine."

The professor watched as Harry left the kitchen, without another word, heading back to his bedroom. He couldn't help but think about how far they had come since he first showed up at Privet Drive during Harry's nosebleed incident; how comfortable they had become with each other and with his cancer treatments; the professor silently hoped school would not bring any additional turmoil into their life. Harry would not be able to withstand much more on top of what he was already dealing with.

As usual Draco arrived a half hour before Severus had to leave for the order meeting to go through his update to share. The second he opened the door, Severus knew it would be bad news. He had felt his dark mark burn yesterday - and had the first semi-successful salve work on it - but since Draco had not shown up afterwards, he assumed the blonde had not been called to that particular summons. However, Draco's glazed over eyes told him a different story. Without saying a word, he led Draco into his office and warded the door silent as he knew Harry had the tendency to try and eavesdrop.

"What happened last night?" Severus asked sitting down, as casually as possible, in the chair across from Draco who was uncharacteristically wringing his hands in his lap.

"He moved into the manor last weekend," Draco said without any further explanation needed. At least now they knew the location of Voldemort, something they had lost when Severus's cover was compromised.

This was not good news though. If the Dark Lord moved his headquarters into Malfoy Manor it could only be to gain more control over Draco after the blonde Slytherin returned to school. Severus questioned to himself what the melogmanic could have planned for him if that much control was needed over the teen. No matter which way he tried to look at it, this could not end well for anyone involved. Unfortunately, it also wasn't the only reason Draco looked so distraught that night.

"That's why I couldn't get here after the summons last night," Draco said with his head hung low staring at his hands that were still fiddling with nothing. Severus knew that look; Draco had been on his first raid.

"Were there any deaths?" The professor asked keeping his voice as even and judgement-free as possible.

Draco nodded his head, not making eye contact.

"Were any of them yours?" He didn't want to know, but if Draco had his first killing it would do him best in the long run for him to talk about it. Severus was determined to do whatever he could to make sure Draco came through all of this in one piece, even if that meant bringing up the former spy's own demons.

"No," he could see the small relief in Draco's grey eyes as they finally met Severus's black ones. When he spoke next, the teenager was having a difficult time putting his sentences together, "After everyone showed up at the manner... it was just like you said it would be; everyone bowing and kissing his robes like servants... We went to a muggle neighborhood and my job was to... Steal? Kidnap? Take hostage?... Whatever you want to call it... A woman and her daughter... she had to be maybe six or seven?"

The former Death Eater closed his eyes to try and keep back his own horrible memories while contemplating what he'd heard, "And he did _not_ have you or anyone else kill them?"

Again, Draco stayed silent and only shook his head.

_Why would the Dark Lord kidnap muggles and not kill them?_

"They're being held in the cellar at the manor," Draco answered the question before Severus could even ask it with a disgusted look on his face as if he never wanted to step foot back into his home. It was one thing to know what the Dark Lord was doing in theory - even to agree with it since Draco's stance on muggles hadn't changed much at all - but it was completely different for it to be done in your own home, practically in front of you. Severus hoped they had plenty of wards in place so no one could hear what was going on down in the cellars.

He gave his full attention back to Draco as his student went through what happened from the moment he was summoned until he landed back at the manor with the Dark Lord, Bellatrix, and their two hostages - the only two muggles to have lived that night - alongside him. He tried hard to use his Occlumency, but in the end it still brought back memories for the professor that he wished would stay hidden forever.

Severus stood in the back of the old dining room at Grimmauld Place waiting for the meeting to start. With everyone in attendance, the room was overfilled with witches and wizards chatting idly giving Severus the start of a headache. Noticeably different tonight was Molly Weasley. She tutted and fussed around the room as normal - feeding every one regardless of if they wanted to eat - but her eyes weren't nearly as bright as usual and her voice cracked at least once within each sentence giving away her continued grief. Severus could understand, but he dared not say so.

"Arthur," the former spy called out quietly, but firmly to the Weasley patriarch when the man walked nearby Severus's corner.

"Good evening Severus," Arthur greeted equally quiet; taking the hint from the professor for some needed secrecy. "How's Harry feeling?"

Letting out a sigh, because that was always the first question everyone asked him lately, he answered "He's getting restless, but staying strong. And Ginny?"

"Still the same unfortunately," Arthur replied frowning, "Bill made an attempt at the curse last weekend, but it's been slow. Were you able to find out anything about Bellatrix's wand?"

Severus nodded. Draco had relayed the information they needed after walking Severus through the raid from last night. Luckily, Bellatrix being Draco's aunt made the inquiry less obvious for the new spy and helped to not draw unwanted attention to the purpose of his quest. Unwilling to give his report twice, Severus distracted Arthur from any further questions when he pulled out two phials from his robe - the reason he called Arthur over in the first place - and held them out to the man in front of him.

Lifting the larger phial he said, "A Calming Draught-" he paused to look over at Molly indicating that these were for her, then lifting the smaller one he continued, "- and Dreamless Sleep. They should help her get some decent rest with everything going on."

After recounting Draco's summons and internally reliving his own, Severus tried to ignore the gratitude he saw in Arthur's eyes. That type of gratitude was best reserved for men far better then he was.

"Thank you Severus," Arthur said, taking the phials and carefully pocketing them in his robes. "You're a good man; both for this and what you're doing for Harry. We would have been more than happy to have him with us, but as much as I hate to admit this, it's best he's at Hogwarts. Who knows what would have happened had he been at the Burrow the night of the attack. Molly says he's in great hands, so thank you."

The professor furrowed his brow, but didn't say anything back to Arthur. What could he honestly say? The more he thought about it from an outsider's perspective the more he realized how odd it looked that Severus Snape was now responsible for the care of Harry Potter. He tabled that observation when Albus got everyone's attention to start the meeting.

With the whole Order's attention on him, Albus jumped right into the latest Death Eater activity. Unfortunately, most of the raids had occurred in muggle neighborhoods with a high number of casualties, something Severus had already known even if he hadn't gotten the report from Draco earlier that night. That didn't mean the wizarding world was safe though, as both Ollivander and Florean Fortescue had been missing for the last month and had gotten a lot of publicity recently with the influx of visitors to Diagon Alley for their school supplies. The former spy cursed under his breath; he hated hearing about the people he could not save. It not only reminded him that he was no longer in a position to help those people, but it added to his anxiousness to get out there and do something productive against his former master. This was simple, the longer it took to kill the dark wizard the more death there was going to be, and if he could somehow be killed before Harry got involved, all the better.

"Severus will now update us on the report from our newest informant," his mind was brought back to the present as Albus ceremoniously transitioned to him.

"Draco had discovered that the core of Bellatrix's wand is a Dragon Heart-String, however there were no further details provided on the spell she used on Miss. Weasley," he started with the best news first to which Bill Weasley's face lit up as he nodded his confirmation; that was definitely a good sign. With any luck Ginny would be back to normal very soon.

"The Dark Lord has moved into Malfoy Manor, likely to keep a closer than normal watch on Narcissa and control over Draco while he's at school," he continued, almost sounding bored as was his usual expression. "I can only assume he's either expecting Draco to defect at some point and wants assurance against such an event or he has plans for Draco that he expects resistance to. Neither option ends well for Draco nor the Order."

He went through in detail the raid from the previous night and the mysterious muggle woman and child that were taken and now being held captive at Malfoy Manor. There was a major debate on if a rescue attempt should be planned. The arguments ranged from: how could an organization such as themselves _not help_ when they know something like this has occurred, to it could be an elaborately planned trap for the Order, and even the possibility of it being a test of Draco's loyalties, in which case going in for a rescue could bring harm to the teenager.

After a long deliberation amongst the members, no one wanted to vote on making the hard call and it fell to Albus to decide as the leader of the Order. In the end, he came to the conclusion that it was far too dangerous to attempt to rescue the two muggles at this time. Everyone in the room fell silent with the realization they had possibly just left two innocent people to die; assuming they weren't already dead. This was exactly why - no matter how much Draco, Harry, or any of the other underaged students complained about it - children could not be part of the Order; sometimes you had to make a losing choice so you had a chance to win in the end.

"Are you certain that the flow of information is in our favor?" Moody gruffly challenged Severus once he completed updating the group on Draco's reports. "Seems to me we aren't getting nearly as much information as we used to."

"I am positive," Severus growled trying to hold back his anger. "As I've previously said on multiple occasions, as a new Death Eater, Mr. Malfoy is not privy to the type of information I had been able to receive.

"However, I'd like to point out that because of Mr. Malfoy, we now know the final piece of information to save young Miss. Weasley, we now know the location of the Dark Lord's headquarters, and while we don't know the reason behind it yet, we _do_ know he's capturing muggles instead of simply killing them on the spot. What of that is not up to your standards?"

"Gentlemen," Albus said in a commanding tone drawing the attention away from the two wizards and back towards himself. "Let us move on shall we. Even though Voldemort is aware of Harry living at Hogwarts this summer, the train is a logical time for his next attack. We need to have full coverage... "

Severus wasn't paying attention to anything else Albus said during the meeting. All he could think about was that there had to be some significance to the muggles that were kidnapped and how could he find out if there were any others that had been taken.

* * *

When Severus walked out of the floo back into his quarters, Harry was laying on the sofa reading through his new defense textbook. The professor would have preferred Harry to be asleep already, only because then he would feel better about going off to sleep himself, but this was preferred to finding the Gryffindor laying in the lavatory. After removing his outer robes, Severus sat down in his armchair completely exhausted.

"How did it go tonight?" The young wizard asked sitting up on the couch. Severus tried to ignore the grimace of pain that flashed across Harry's face; hopefully the next phase of his treatment would be easier on his body.

"Nothing much to tell," he said nonchalantly as he did not want to add anymore pressure onto Harry's shoulders than he already felt. "Everyone wishes their best for you. Lupin asked the next time he's back from his mission if he could stop by."

"Oh," Harry said looking down at his book as if it were the most interesting thing around.

"Harry," Severus called leaning forward to rest his elbows on his legs. This wasn't the conversation he wanted to have now given his current state, but the opportunity fell into his lap and he wasn't going to waste it, "I know you have to stay here because of your current immune system, but eventually you will be able to see people again. In fact, you will eventually _have_ to see people again because I'm not intending to host your entire sixth year education in our quarters."

The edges of Harry's lips bent upwards as he tried to hold back a smile.

"Did you just make a joke sir?" The Gryffindor asked sarcastically, turning to face his professor.

"They do come to me once in a great while," he casually replied before a thoughtful look crossed over his face, "but seriously Harry, I get the feeling you're trying to push people away from you."

"Well... I'm not pushing you away," Harry mumbled defensively, confirming Severus's suspicions that he was indeed trying to distance himself from others.

"Of course not," the professor replied insightfully, "everything you feel embarrassed about I've experienced along with you. I was there for your tests and diagnosis, your first treatments, the vomiting, I even shaved your head..."

That triggered something within Harry and he started to shake his head violently as if he didn't want to hear whatever it was Severus was going to say.

"I'm fine," Harry said too quickly for either of them to believe it.

Instead of jumping straight into an argument, Severus sat back and simply observed the teenager. Harry's breathing was shallowing and he was wringing his hands, much the same as Draco was earlier that evening, leading the professor to the belief that both of these boys would probably benefit from some kind of friendship if they could ever learn to trust one another.

His silence was rewarded when Harry continued, stumbling for the right words, "I just... I don't know... I feel... Like I'm a mess right now... And I don't want anyone seeing me like this."

Severus could see the relief flood into Harry's body by simply saying the words he was sure were troubling his young mind.

"And that's ok Harry," he said getting up and kneeling in front of Harry on the sofa, "it's ok that you have those feelings and it's ok to tell people you have them. Take it one day at a time and one person at a time. Talk about what you're going through because even though it will be hard to start, I think you will find yourself feeling better in the long run. No one expects you to be perfect through all of this, but they will follow your lead on it; if you continue to push them away, they'll stop reaching out to you thinking that's what you need."

Harry simply nodded his understanding, but made eye contact which gave the professor some confidence that he had understood the message. Coming into the start of term, it was more important than ever that they could discuss things like this freely. With Harry spending at least the first 6 weeks quarantined, practically alone, he was bound to start feeling isolated from the rest of the students, professors, and specifically Severus.

"I see your textbooks have arrived," he casually changed the subject picking up Harry's defense book that had fallen onto the floor. Earlier this week, he had owl ordered Harry's supplies for classes and was a little concerned when they had not yet arrived as of this morning.

"Yeah, they came through the floo while you were gone," Harry peered over to the fireplace as if he were expecting more mail to come through. "But they forgot my potions book. I don't know if Flourish and Blotts can get one here for classes this week or if..."

Severus stood up and walked to the bookcase near his office hearing the Gryffindor trail off as he searched the shelves for the book he remembered grabbing as he was cleaning out the Potions classroom earlier this month. Once he located it, he walked back to Harry, and handed him the battered up copy of _Advanced Potions Making by Libatius Borage_.

"They didn't forget your potions book, I did not order you one," the professor slowly explained as Harry flipped through the book that had once belonged to Severus. "I thought you'd like to use this one instead. Since I'm not teaching potions this year, I have no reservations in giving this to you."

Severus could feel himself getting nervous about discussing something not only so personal to him, but also something that he did not do for the _other Harry_. As Severus still taught Potions in his old reality, he could not share this book with Harry there. Now though, after editing out the darker spells he'd created during the troubled times of his youth, he had no qualms in passing it on. Harry would have a hard enough time staying caught up with classes and he could use as much help as he could get.

"Who's the Half-Blood Prince?" Harry asked as he ran his finger across the words written at the bottom of the inside back cover **_Property of the Half-Blood Prince._**

"It was the moniker I used," Severus explained feeling even more nervous to say it out loud, "I'm a half-blood and my mother's maiden name was Prince."

"This was your book?!" Harry asked louder than he probably expected to be. "I can't use this..."

Again Harry trailed off as he continued flipping through each of the potion lessons and reading the detailed changes and notes Severus himself had made throughout. For the second time that night, he was met with eyes so full of a gratitude the professor thought he did not deserve.

"Wouldn't this be cheating?" Harry asked, drawing Severus's attention back to the sofa. "I mean, you're a Potions Master, with the notes in here alone I could probably pass the final exam before I even meet the new professor."

Severus had to hold back a grin, "I wasn't a Portions Master when I made those notes, I was your age," Harry's eyes grew wide at that. "You don't have to use it if you're uncomfortable with it. Remember though, to pass your exams you still do have to brew the potions yourself, which could be... challenging for you."

"Hey! Half the reasons my potions exploded were because of the Slytherins!" Harry wasn't angry though; quite the opposite. "Did I have this... You know... Before?"

"You mean where I came from?"

Harry nodded and a grimace fell across his face that Severus knew meant it was almost time for another dose of his medication.

"No, you did not have this book in my old reality," the professor said, waving his wand to summon Harry's pain medicine and a glass of water. "I was still the Potions Master back there and I was not about to teach a student with my own notes."

Harry closed the book and clutched it tight, "Thank you Severus. I'll take very good care of this book."

"You are welcome," he said, pouring out two of the tablets and handing them to Harry with the glass of water. "You should go to bed. You look exhausted and I have students to prepare for tomorrow."

"G'night Severus," Harry said, standing up and pausing for a second before turning around and heading back to his room with both his defense textbook and the _Advanced Potion Making_ book.

Smiling that Harry had accepted his old textbook, Severus rubbed his tired eyes. Somehow he knew it was going to be a long night with Harry and then he had an early morning to put the final preparations on his classroom and some adjustments to the Slytherin dormitories. During the Order meeting tonight, Severus made the last minute decision to add a couple of extra wards in the sixth year boys dormitory as added security for Draco should anything happen during the school year. He sat there in the silence of his sitting room questioning, not for the first time, how he would possibly manage everything he was currently working on, plus a full class schedule, and his Head of House duties.

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_"Harry! We're going to be late!" Severus called for the third time that morning, this time though from directly outside of his teenage son's door._

_"I'm almost done!" The 16-year old Gryffindor called out from inside his bedroom._

_Cautiously, Severus opened the door and pinched the bridge of his nose when he saw the mess around his son's normally almost-too-tidy bedroom. They were getting ready to head back to Hogwarts from Spinner's End to start Harry's sixth year. Harry's bedroom was small, but comfortable with light blue walls that almost matched his room in their quarters at Hogwarts, but here instead of Quidditch posters, the walls were adorned with sketches, drawings, and paintings Harry had completed over the years. There was everything from his friends studying in the Gryffindor common room, to Hedwig flying over the forbidden forest, to the sun setting over the dirty smokestacks Harry could see from his bedroom window, and even one of Severus himself working over a cauldron in his potions lab. Harry had a natural talent he'd inherited from Lily's genes and Severus loved to tell Harry all about his mother's favorite hobby; the one they share. Harry had a twin bed in the far left corner made up neatly with a blue bedspread, a wardrobe on the right wall, and a small bookcase next to it filled to the brim with all sorts of books. It was the bookcase causing the issues that morning._

_"I borrowed a book from Hermione and I have no idea where I put it," he called placing several more books into the pile on his left._

_"You could have asked me to summon it for you," Severus said, casually pulling out his wand and calling **accio Hermione Granger's book**. Three books came flying to him from under a red Gryffindor jumper on the other side of the wardrobe. "Knowing the name would have been a bit more accurate, but I'm certain it's one of these?"_

_Harry flushed and Severus knew it was because one of the side effects of the potions he was taking caused him to forget simple things at times. While not ideal, it was an improvement over where he was at the beginning of the summer. Harry had a rough summer with the start of his potions regimen to battle the Leukemia he was diagnosed with at the end of last term. Harry had spent most of June laid up in bed as his body got used to the different potions most of which left him so nauseous he could barely keep any food down for the first month. By the time of his birthday, however, both his body had adjusted and Severus made some tweaks to the formula used and he was handling it much better. With Harry taking as many as 6 different potions per day, it was sometimes a struggle for the Potions Master to keep up with making so many fresh each week, but he was committed to doing anything to help his son recover from this muggle disease._

_"This one," the teenager said, grabbing a copy of an advanced potions book that Severus made a mental note to discuss with him about at a later time. "Thank you Dad."_

_"You're welcome Harry," Severus said, waving his wand across the room to clean and finish packing the teenager as well as shrinking his trunk and broom for easy transportation. "Let's get to King's Cross Station before you're late."_

_Only a quarter of an hour later, they were on their way to the train station. Unfortunately, Severus would have no way of knowing the horror he would experience before the year was out or the fact that this would be the last time he saw his son off to school on the Hogwarts Express._


	25. Back to School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The welcoming feast speech is derived from the HBP.

**_1st September 1996_ **

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry couldn't sleep last night, which wasn't all too surprising given everything that was going on in his mind. The rest of the students would be arriving this evening to start another year of school and Harry was nervous how it would impact his relationship with Snape. Between the chemo yesterday and his anxiety over term starting, he woke up around one in the morning and ended up in the lavatory sick. After their conversation last night, Harry was determined to ride out the vomiting on his own to allow Snape a good night's sleep before he started teaching again. It shouldn't have mattered in the long run, but for some reason it felt harder on him sitting up alone in the lavatory for most of the night.

Eventually, he made it back to his bed where he stayed up looking through Snape's potions book and sketching - last week he started working on a picture of himself and Dudley - until around four in the morning, then he fell asleep still clutching his notebook. He woke that morning from the sun shining through his window sometime around ten with his glasses removed and tucked nicely under his bedspread. After a quick shower and dressing in a pair of jeans with a navy blue jumper, now that he was feeling a bit more like himself, he ate the breakfast that Snape had left sitting out on the table for him. His medicine was nicely placed in a small cup besides the plate charmed to keep his eggs and toast warm, and a note in Snape's unique script that read:

 _Harry_ -

_I went to finish a couple of last minute preparations in my classroom and the Slytherin dormitories. I will stop by before the welcoming feast this evening._

_Take you medicine._

_\- S.S._

For the first time Harry wondered what his roommates would think when his bed was not in their dorm. Would Dumbledore be making some kind of announcement tonight or would everyone just think he'd died over the summer? Maybe that Voldemort finally got to him? That was ridiculous though, the _Prophet_ would have definitely reported if the Boy-Who-Lived had been killed by Voldemort.

Moving to the sitting room, he sat on the sofa trying not to think about how stir crazy he was feeling within the walls of the dungeons. He'd been here since before his birthday and had only left those few times to see Ginny - which he hadn't been able to do since the row with Ron - and now he was almost ready to give up his Firebolt just to be able to leave.

_Severus would kill me if I left his quarters, especially without telling him, but once the students get here it will be impossible to do it._

It was a bad idea, even Harry recognized that, but once it was in his mind it was like a plague he could not push out. Getting up from the sofa he started pacing between the sitting room and the door to the outside hallway; going as far as putting his hand on the door knob that would take him to freedom. Snape had specifically told him he was keyed into the wards, so he could easily get back in... Assuming he knew which empty stone wall held the door to begin with.

Suddenly the floo roared to life, saving him from making another stupid, rash decision in his life and Mrs. Weasley walked out. Harry had not seen the woman who was like his surrogate mother since before Charlie's death and the sight of her was enough to knock the wind right out of his chest. She looked tired, similar to how Snape did on any given day lately, but she still had her kind eyes that pulled at his heart. He swiped the start of tears from the corner of his eyes... He wasn't lying last night when he said he felt like he was a total mess lately.

"Mrs. Weasley," he called, walking over to her slowly unsure of how she would react to seeing him, "what are you doing here?"

"Oh Harry," she called with a large, sad smile and pulled him into a full body hug, firm enough to be solid but soft enough not to hurt his always aching body. She extended him back, still holding onto his arms, to get a good look at him as if she hadn't seen him in years. Small tears forming in her eyes when she called out to him in a serious voice, "I've been trying to see you for a while now, young man!"

This time, Harry couldn't stop the tears that welled in his eyes. Even after her son was murdered because of him and her daughter laid unconscious up in the hospital wing, she was still standing in front of him, lecturing him, and it felt good. It felt like what any mother would do to the son she loved.

"Shouldn't you be at the train station?" He may sometimes lose all track of time, but even he knew it was the 1st of September.

"Oh deary, it's left two hours ago. I was up visiting Ginny and ran into Severus who told me I could floo in," she gestured him towards the sofa where he sat down with her directly next to him. It was something so little but meant so much that she didn't sit away from him. "Now, tell me how you are _really_ doing."

"I'm ok. Or as well as I can be I guess," he rubbed his hands together nervously knowing she would never believe it. "How're you, and Ginny? I'm so sorry Mrs. Weasley-"

"None of that now Harry," she patted his hand, "you had nothing to do with what had happened, understood? We talked about this already and not a thing has changed."

"That's what Remus said about Sirius, but I know he didn't mean it. How could he not blame me? How can you not blame me?" Harry mumbled feeling the guilt and crawled back and settled into his chest at the same time he was feeling ashamed and embarrassed for having admitted to that out loud.

"He absolutely meant it, as do I Harry. None of this is your fault. You happen to be caught in the middle of a complicated mess of things, but you are not the cause of any of it," she reprimanded, similar to what Snape told him, but somehow firmer and kinder at the same time. "Anyway, Bill is making great work on breaking the curse and we'll all move on. That's all we can do Harry, just keep moving forward."

"That's great to hear Mrs. Weasley," and Harry truly meant it, if Ginny could get better, maybe that would help him cope just a bit more with the situation.

They sat next to each other with an awkward silence between them. Mrs. Weasley softly rubbed soft circles on Harry's back.

"How's Ron?" he finally asked genuinely curious about his friend, even if he wasn't sure they were still friends.

"He misses you," Mrs. Weasley said sympathetically, "he's scared for you, but you know Ron won't say something so explicitly. He said it would be strange not having you on the trip into school, but a mother knows how to listen to the words her son is _not_ saying."

"Or at the welcoming feast," Harry reminded her but as a matter of fact statement, not sad, "or classes."

"You'll get back there Harry," she said, patting him yet again. "If you don't mind my asking, what happened exactly between you two? Hermione filled me in on most of the details, but if there's some way I could help, I'd like to do what I can."

Is this what a mother would do when her children fought? Harry closed his eyes trying to think of what it would have been like if his mum were still alive; would she have gotten involved by now? Or what if his parents had another child - they were young enough when he was born to have had at least one more - and he had a younger brother or sister to fight with? What would Snape have done in the other reality? It was alarming how often he asked himself about what his life was like with Snape as his parent, not admitting to himself that he would be ok with that now.

"He was upset that I... called Professor Snape... _Severus_ ," remembering back to the conversation he had with Hermione, he was embarrassed to admit that to Mrs. Weasley. Would she be as insulted as Ron had been?

"Is that all? Ronald really needs to mind his own business now doesn't he?" Harry couldn't help but smile at that statement. He got the impression she already knew about what he called Snape, but knowing she didn't mind made him feel better about the whole situation.

"When do you start your classes? Do you have your books?" She asked in her motherly way.

"Tomorrow and yes, Professor Snape had my books owl ordered in," he thought about the professor's old potions book and warmness filled him inside again, "I guess I'm going to have evening classes with professors and daytime studying with students, but I don't have a timetable yet. Or at least an estimated one depending on how I'm feeling each day."

Mrs. Weasley nodded, "And I hear Hermione is going to be two of your student tutors?"

It was awkward talking to Mrs. Weasley about this kind of stuff as if nothing this summer had happened. Maybe she really didn't blame him for Ginny and Charlie. Maybe this was the conversation he needed to have with her all along, but he'd been avoiding it.

"Yeah, she is. I don't know who else will be though because Hermione's kind of the best student in everything."

While he didn't know for sure who else would be tutoring him, having Hermione as his Charms and Transfiguration tutor helped him narrow down his guesses for the others. Professor McGonagall had chosen students from his year instead of the seventh year, so it would most likely be Neville for Herbology and, unfortunately, Malfoy for Potions. He was stumped for DADA because honestly he probably would have been the likely first choice if it were any other student and he couldn't tutor himself. He was so lost in thought, he completely missed what Mrs. Weasley had said.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley, what was that?" He asked sheepishly, hating to be called out on not listening to her.

"It's ok dear. I said I've arranged it with Professor Snape to be here with you while he and Professor McGonagall are both in classes next week. You have your long treatments starting up again correct?"

"Yes ma'am, it all starts again this Saturday. Healer Smithe said that hopefully I'll be back in classes before Halloween."

If he could just get through the next four weeks, Harry had high hopes that whatever the next phase was, it could not really get any worse than this one. He wanted to go back to classes, watch Quidditch - honestly, he wanted to play Quidditch, but even he knew that wasn't possible - eat meals in the Great Hall, even study in the library, just go back to his normal life... if there ever was such a thing for him.

~~~~SS~~~~

The students would be arriving in about two hours time and Severus still had a lot to complete before classes started back tomorrow. At first he thought teaching defense would be a good change this year for the extra flexibility - with Slughorn coming back to take his old post - but he forgot how much he depended on the familiar lesson plans and curriculum especially at the start of term. This was now like his first year teaching all over again and with Harry's treatments it would keep him extremely busy; at least for the first month or so.

Surprisingly he'd slept well last night, so he was at least more clear headed than he had been in days. Of course with his newly cleared mind, he couldn't help but question _why_ he slept all night on a day that Harry had chemotherapy - even a relatively easy day of it - and he suspected Harry somehow had something to do with it either intentionally or unintentionally. He didn't get the chance to question Harry on it since he left before Harry had woken up that morning. On a normal day, he wouldn't allow such a lie in, but when he'd gone to wake Harry up this morning it was obvious the young wizard had been up late. So he removed Harry's glasses and tucked him under his bedspread before leaving him a note about where the professor would be during the day.

Instead of preparing for his classes - as he should have been doing with his newfound energy - he was determined to get through as much of his medical research as possible. He found himself sitting at his desk in his classroom office with several books open across the desk. The need to know how Harry managed to get the Leukemia had been quickly pushed aside when he came across a passage about how Leukemia was formed. He obviously had known it was a blood cancer stemming from the bone marrow since he'd heard two healers explain it - once in each reality - but he had not thought any further about it and now he was desperate to know if his hypothesis could be correct.

"Shit," he said as he finally started to connect the pieces to the puzzle no one even knew existed.

How could _this_ have been overlooked? He raced to the floo in his office to contact Alton at home, throwing down the floo powder so forcefully it spat back into his face.

"Alton!" Severus called frantically through the floo hoping he'd be able to get in contact with the healer today. He'd not forgotten that he needed to discuss his lack of availability from yesterday, but this took higher priority than even that. He was relieved when his friend kneeled down into the floo. "Can you come through to my defense office for a minute? I need your assistance on something."

"Sure thing Severus," the healer replied, "I'll be right there."

Severus paced the floor in front of his desk. While he knew he could trust Alton, he still wasn't sure how much information he could safely give. He needed confirmation before approaching Albus as the elderly wizard wouldn't know anything about muggle cancers, but he had to keep his hand close to his chest.

"Is everything alright Severus?" Alton asked confused as to why he was called to Severus's office. This could not have to do with Harry if he wasn't in the man's quarters or the hospital wing.

"I hope so," the professor replied, picking up one of the medical books titled _The Principles and Practice of Pediatric Oncology_. "Tell me about Leukemia."

The healer narrowed his eyes bewildered, "Aren't we a little bit past this point Severus?"

Sighing, the professor explained, "I've been trying to figure out how Harry ended up with the Leukemia, but I keep coming back to the idea of a blood cancer and how they're formed."

"Well, the simple answer is that his bone marrow is making white blood cells that have damaged instructions, so to say, preventing them from working properly and they are being made at an exponential rate," Alton sat down tiredly at the desk watching his friend pour through the various medical books. "Is there something specific you're looking for?"

"What if a Leukemia patient donated their bone marrow?" It was the closest direct question Severus could ask without inducting Alton into the Order. The conditions of the Dark Lord's resurrection were not widely known and if his thought process was correct, that was to their benefit right now.

"Well," the healer sounded beyond confused as they had not discussed a bone marrow transplant for Harry, "no one would take donated marrow from someone who had Leukemia. They usually get the donated marrow, not the other way around."

The air was almost knocked completely out of Severus's lungs as he remembered the pepper ups, fever reducers, blood replenishers, and invigorating draughts he was asked to brew before the Pivot Drive attack. It seemed too easy to be true and yet the evidence had been sitting right in front of him this whole time.

"And Harry's cancer... It's... aggressive you called it?"

"Very much so," Alton explained gravely, "which is why we attack it so many different ways and for so many years. He'll also need to be tested regularly even after the maintenance phase is completed to watch for any relapses. Leaving just a single Leukemia cell can jump start the whole process over again."

How did he miss it? Sure he'd been distracted, but this could put a major change to their plan of attack.

"And if Harry decided he wanted to stop treatment? Or had he not wanted to treat it to begin with? How long would it have taken to..." He couldn't say it even though he wasn't thinking about Harry at all for this conversation.

"Now you're scaring me Severus. What's going on?" Alton had gone from confused to concerned in a second. These were questions a healer never wanted to hear from a patient or a caregiver, "I know he's had a rough month but as Harry's medical proxy I hope you don't consider letting him make a decision like that; at least not without some discussions with me first."

"Of course not," the professor reassured, "I'm simply trying to keep things in perspective."

Severus was relieved to see his explanation was acceptable as Alton started calculating in his head, "For an acute leukemia like ALL... based on when we first tested him... without treatment at all, not taking into account his magic trying to heal him which could slow it down a little... he likely wouldn't have made it much further than now... definitely not to Halloween."

Severus couldn't stop his legs from shaking as he sat down in the chair behind his desk. He had known the cancer was aggressive, but it was almost devastating to know that had they not caught it, Harry would probably be dead or close to it by now. Holding his head in his hands, he tried to compose himself as quickly as possible using his Occlumency.

"Thank you Alton; we'll see you Saturday," the professor said standing up and quickly exiting his office heading straight to see the Headmaster.

* * *

"Severus," Albus called from the other side of his desk when his new Defense Professor entered the office in a hurry, not even knocking beforehand, "Lemon drop?"

"The Dark Lord used Harry's blood, and by extension his bone marrow, as his own," Severus called out, ignoring the offer of the blasted sweet. A quick glance around the room and he was relieved to see the Headmaster was alone when he made this declaration. In hindsight, it was not his most graceful entrance.

"Yes Severus, we did already know that fact," Albus appeared not only perplexed, but also deeply concerned for his professor to be making such an obvious statement.

Severus gave a hard sigh and tried to explain this a different way, "Harry's cancer originated in the bone marrow itself... it is not a disease one catches, but is written within the structure of his bone marrow, which creates the components of the blood."

Albus's eyes lit up; he stood leaning across his desk almost pleading for his former spy to be corrected.

"Are you saying there is a chance Voldemort has the same cancer as Harry?"

"More than a chance, yes," he was talking almost frantically now putting the connections together in his head, "and the fact that I had been brewing him potions to combat the symptoms - fatigue, lower immune system, easier bleeding - indicates it's starting to infect him. The disease is aggressively fatal, it should be only a matter of time before he's gone."

"There's something missing Severus," the older wizard skeptically said, "we've had no reports that Voldemort has taken ill. Quite the opposite actually as the Death Eater activity is increasing by the day. Surely something like this would be noticeable by now."

That was true and something Severus could not overlook no matter how hard he wanted to. If Harry had been as ill as he was when the diagnosis came two months ago, there was no way the Dark Lord would still be functioning as he had been. Magic would help mask some of the symptoms, but not by that much. Harry was as strong of a wizard as the Dark Lord, even if neither of them would admit it, and he would have been close to death at this point.

"I don't know," Severus hated to admit defeat on that simple, but very important point. "As soon as the opportunity presents itself, I'll ask Mr. Malfoy for his assessment; obviously without giving him the information we've just uncovered."

Albus lifted his head towards the door while simultaneously holding a hand to pause Severus from speaking any further.

"Come in Minerva," the elderly wizard announced his Deputy Headmistress's arrival; obviously for Severus's benefit.

Minerva walked confidently into the room, hands full of parchment and books, her eyes lighting up at seeing both of the professors in front of her.

"Just the two men I needed to see," she placed all the parchment onto Albus's desk. "I have the final schedule for Harry's classes worked out, but I need both of your signatures before the final copy can go out to the Board of Governors."

"Of course," Albus said, picking up the top piece of parchment and handing the one below it to Severus.

**Professor Schedule**

_1 per Evening x 5 Days_

Day 1: Defense

Day 2: Charms

Day 3: Herbology

Day 4: Potions

Day 5: Transfiguration

_Make-Up As needed:_

Day 6: Potions / Herbology

Day 7: Charms / Transfiguration

**Student Tutor Schedule**

_2 per day x 5 days_

Day 1: Herbology / Transfiguration

Day 2: Potions / Defense

Day 3: Transfiguration / Charms

Day 4: Herbology / Defense

Day 5: Potions / Charms

**Tutor Assignments**

Herbology: Neville Longbottom

Charms / Transfiguration: Hermione Granger

Potions / Defense: Draco Malfoy

"Severus," Minerva said once it was obvious he had read through the parchment, "as Head of Slytherin, you need to sign off on Mr. Malfoy's tutoring assignment. I've already arranged it with him and his schedule."

"And if I disagree with this rotation?" He raised a single eyebrow to the Transfiguration Professor.

"Well, it's a bit late to do that. There were a lot of moving parts just to get this one to work," she said more than a bit insulted. "What is not to your liking here?"

He was not trying to be difficult, but practical, "It's the fact that Draco will be doing a double tutoring on Tuesdays. I wish to keep my quarters standing and both boys alive if that's not too much to ask."

"Surely the two of them can manage for this purpose," Minerva lectured. "If we see there is an issue, I'll address it as needed."

"Says the person who will not have them unsupervised in _her_ quarters," the defense professor narrowed his eyes while simultaneously signing the parchment then handing it back to her.

"Albus," Minerva said, completely ignoring Severus's glare, "what shall we tell the students? Surely they'll notice Harry is missing from classes. At a bare minimum Messrs Finnegan, Thomas, and Longbottom certainly will notice him not in their dormitory."

"There will be a generic announcement at the end of the feast tonight," the Headmaster looked worn and tired making that statement. Severus could appreciate how difficult it must be to be in his position during times like this. "Nothing personal of course; simply stating that for the foreseeable future Harry will not be attending classes en mass and will be living outside of Gryffindor tower for his personal safety. None of which is technically incorrect nor does it violate Harry's right to privacy."

The Headmaster stood up, which Severus took as their dismissal. With the last three-quarters of an hour before the students arrived, he briskly walked back down to the dungeon where he knew Harry would be; most likely still with Mrs. Weasley. His wards warned him earlier this afternoon that Harry was attempting to leave their quarters, so he made sure to casually run into Mrs. Weasley - who hadn't left the hospital wing all week - and suggested she visit him before the students arrived. Since he had not heard from her nor his wards, he naturally assumed the distraction managed to keep the Gryffindor contained.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and was greeted by the aroma of freshly baked biscuits; something he was confident his quarters had never smelled like before. Peeking into the kitchen, he saw the final products sitting on a plate in the center of the table. Not being able to resist, he picked up one of the smallest and walked into the sitting room.

"Thank you for the biscuits," he said to Mrs. Weasley who was knitting on the sofa. He was surprised she had stayed this long; something must have happened to cause her to do so.

"Oh, it's nothing," she waved him off and he could not help but make a comparison to himself whenever Harry thanked him for something.

"He's in his room," she answered the question he didn't ask as she packed up her knitting work. "It was a rough afternoon and biscuits help make everything seem just a little brighter. I'll be on my way, I shouldn't be here when the students arrive."

"Thank you again, Molly."

Severus walked out of the sitting room pausing in front of Harry's bedroom to compose himself. Without chemotherapy today it was unlikely Harry's "rough day" was because of his physical health. He knocked lightly onto Harry's door and received a quiet, "come in" from the teen inside.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, walking to the desk and as always taking a seat in the chair.

Harry was laying across his bed reading through his defense textbook again. The professor's breath hitched at the déjà vu of seeing his son reading casually in bed.

"Yeah," Harry answered sullenly, barely looking up. "Why?"

"We seem to be on opposite schedules as of late," he answered noticing the teenager was obviously upset, "I feel as if I've barely seen you."

Harry gave an ironic laugh still not looking up from his notebook, "It's not like your my father here or anything, so it doesn't _really_ matter does it?"

That statement hurt Severus more than he would ever show. No, he wasn't Harry's parent here, but he wished he were. The lack of that single piece of paper in this reality did not change his feelings towards the teenager sitting in front of him. He wanted things to go back to how they'd been and for the first time since waking up in this different world he wondered if it would have been easier staying where he was. Yes, Harry was dead there, but that was definitive; this was sometimes like an awful purgatory. Harry was here, but not only fighting for his life in more ways than one, sometimes Severus questioned if he was a true part of it all.

"No," he said quietly, lifting Harry chin to meet his eyes, "I'm not, but I hope at this point you've seen that I care about how you're doing and not just physically."

That seemed to get through whatever walls Harry had managed to build up around himself throughout the day.

"I'm sorry Severus, that wasn't fair to you," Harry said, pulling away from the professor, "I don't know what got into me. I feel so stir crazy... don't get me wrong, I like that I have more energy today, but at the same time because I feel so much more normal, I want to just leave."

"I'll remind you of this on Saturday. It was bound to be rough today and with classes restarting, things will likely change a little around here," Severus knew what was plaguing Harry's mind, "but you will be able to leave again, at some point, and I will make sure you are not left behind. I promise you that, understood."

"Yes sir."

"Harry," Severus cautiously said, not sure this was the right time to bring it up but he had to ask, "how were you feeling last night? I was honestly surprised you weren't up at all from the chemotherapy."

"Oh," if it was possible, Harry's face fell even further as a small flush crept up from his neck to his cheeks, "I was fine... must have just been a good night."

It could not have been more obvious that he had not been fine. In fact, Severus had learned after all this time living with Harry that his _fine_ actually meant _far from fine but I don't want to talk about it._ Wondering what the Gryffindor could have done - most likely a silencing charm - he peered over at Harry and decided not to push the issue today.

"Oh, that's great to hear," the defense professor played along and held out the parchment with Harry's schedule watching carefully as the Gryffindor read through it, "your timetable and the list of student tutors. It's defense tomorrow, so I'll work with you after dinner and then the student-led instruction will start Tuesday."

"Seriously, Malfoy twice... In one day?!"

He saw this was coming from a Quidditch field away. Even if he didn't like it Severus knew this was the best option; Draco was the second best Potions and Defense student only after Hermione and Harry respectively.

"It's the best option we have. Miss. Granger can't do all the tutoring; when would she have time for her own assignments?"

The young wizard simply glared up at Severus and the professor made a mental note to add alarming spells to his quarters before Tuesday.

* * *

They had seven new Slytherins sorted into his house. While it was a surprisingly lower number than he'd expected, it worked in his favor this year because his prefects were more than capable of handling that number of lost, potentially whiney first years. Outside of his normal dour appearance at the feast, he was keeping a closer than normal watch on both the Gryffindor table as well as Draco. As expected, the new spy appeared more withdrawn than normal tonight.

"May I please have your attention," Albus called from the front podium once the pudding was completed and the students were starting to get antsy to leave. "I have a few housekeeping announcements to make; I will try to keep them short so you may be on your way to your dormitories to get a good night's rest before classes start tomorrow morning.

"Mr. Filch, our caretaker has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of the staff this year. Professor Slughorn is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions Master."

Severus could hear the not-so-subtle murmuring while Albus paused to let the news settle in. As anticipated, only the Slytherins appeared disappointed which didn't bother Severus one bit. No matter which reality he had been in, it was not a secret that he only marginally tolerated teaching, especially the first, second, and third years.

"Professor Snape meanwhile will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Again, the Headmaster paused as this caused an even louder uproar than Slughorn's announcement. It was almost worth all the stares just to see Longbottom almost pass out from shock. This would prove to be a challenging year for them all.

"Finally," Albus said, loudly drawing the attention back to himself, "as you may have noticed Ginerva Weasley and Harry Potter are not in attendance at the feast tonight. As many of you are already aware, over the summer hols there was an attack at the Weasley home where Miss Weasley was unfortunately injured. We will keep her and her family in our thoughts for quick healing as she continues in her recovery, hopefully returning in the very near future.

"It is also with my deepest regret to announce that Harry Potter will not be joining his fellow classmates in their classes nor will he be living in the Gryffindor tower-" The Great Hall became overrun with students talking over one another about this news. Speaking louder to command control again the Headmaster continued, "- These measures are being taken for his personal safety and will be in place until further notice. I ask that you all respect his privacy during this time and should you have anything pressing regarding these arrangements, please bring it to your Heads of House. Good night."

The moment Albus sat back down at the head table, the hall exploded in conversation and gossip. It seemed between Slughorn, Severus, and Harry, every student - besides most of the first years who admittingly looked both confused and concerned by their fellow students' reactions - had an opinion on something.

"That was quite the announcement Albus," Minerva, who was seated between Severus and Albus, said. "Very tactfully done. However, I better go and settle my house down; I expect there will be plenty of questions."

The Gryffindor table was by far the loudest with most students crowding around Hermione and Ron. Every so often, both of Harry's best friends would turn towards the head table making eye contact with their newest defense teacher.

"Before you go calm your lions down," Severus called towards Minerva, grabbing her arm as she stood, "will you allow me to accompany Mr. Weasley and Miss. Granger for a quick visit with Harry. They appear a bit overwhelmed at the moment and Harry was having a rough day knowing all the students are returning. I'm sure your other four prefects can handle your first years."

"What a great idea Severus," she smiled in a way knowing it would irk him, "that's so very kind of you."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, instead settling on a scowl, he walked up to his seventh year prefects, "Please get the students to the common room. I'll be slightly later than usual for our house meeting, but go through the house rules with them; you've heard them enough not to miss anything. Do not let anyone leave the common room while I am gone. The password is _Asphodel_."

With a nod from both prefects he was confident, he at least would not come back to his Slytherins all over the place. He then made his way over to the Gryffindor table where Ron and Hermione were currently surrounded by their fellow housemates as well as a select few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.

"...heard you-know-who got him..."

"Is it true..."

"...fought off a hundred dementors all on his own!"

"...heard he's dying..."

"Shove it Matthews," Ron called out to one of the fifth year Ravenclaws who made the last statement. The redhead stood up both pulling out his wand and raising his arms at the same time as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to hex or hit the boy now standing directly in front of him.

"Haven't you done enough fighting lately Mr. Weasley," Severus said in a low, long voice. Satisfyingly, the sea of students parted allowing him access to the two Gryffindor's he was coming to collect.

"If you and Miss. Granger will follow with me, you've been relieved of your prefect duties for the night."

Without even waiting for a response, Severus turned and started to leave the Great Hall already knowing the two students would be following him. They made their way down into the dungeons in complete silence. Stopping before the empty stretch of stone where the door to his quarters was located he turned to the two prefects and narrowed his eyes.

"If either of you tell another student where this door is, you'll be in detention for the rest of the year. If you cannot maintain proper decorum tonight-" he took a long piercing stare at Ron who started to visibly pale, "- those detentions will be at dawn on Saturdays. Understood?"

"Yes Professor," they both said in unison and Severus placed his hand on the small depression to the right of where, a second later, the large wooden door appeared.

"Wicked," Ron said, amazed because the only other way they'd gotten into Snape's quarters before was through the floo.

"After you," Severus said, holding the door open silently hoping he did not make a mistake in doing this.

~~~~HP~~~~

By now, Harry knew the welcoming feast was likely over and everyone was hanging out in the common room or the dormitories; one of his favorite parts of the year. By now everyone had likely known he wasn't there. Harry wondered where everyone assumed he was; did Dumbledore end up making an announcement? Probably not, he wouldn't want to draw any unwanted attention to the fact he was missing. _Harry_ didn't want him to draw any unwanted attention.

He was finishing the sketch of himself with Dudley, so it would be ready to go out with the letter he was planning to write tomorrow while Snape was teaching. The picture was of the two boys in his small Privet Drive bedroom, Harry drawn in his pyjamas on a chemo day connected to his port sitting up across the bed with Dudley in the armchair next to him. Between them was the Monopoly game set up on the edge of the bed. He really missed his cousin and regretted how long it took for him to really see that the other boy had changed. That hindsight thing Snape always spoke about was so true; if he could only go back and choose to spend more time with him knowing what was going to happen. With any luck, he'd be able to convince Snape to let him visit over the Christmas or summer holiday.

A soft knock on his door drew his attention up from his work. It seemed early for Snape to return since he had to go "set down the ground rules" for his new snakes after the welcoming feast. Harry wondered not for the first time, what he was like as a Head of House. In the Gryffindor house, as long as no one did anything stupid - which he's done plenty in his five years there - McGonagall usually let them be on their own. He had a pretty educated guess that Snape was much more strict with his own house.

"Hi Harry," he heard from the other side of the door.

Hearing Hermione's voice was such a welcome surprise he immediately perked up and seeing her friendly face immediately pushed back his small sour mood.

"Hermione!" He called out to his friend, "Aren't you supposed to be instructing a bunch of 11 year olds how to be good Gryffindors?"

Hermione laughed and opened the door wider to reveal Ron standing partially hidden behind her.

"No Mate," Ron said sheepishly, "that's usually my job. Could you imagine 12 more little Hermione's running around?"

Harry couldn't contain the smile at the sight of his first friend standing in his doorway. By just showing up, he somehow knew things with Ron would be alright.

"Good one Ron," Harry replied, beckoning his two friends into his room. "We have 12 new Gryffindors?"

Hermione nodded, "We're definitely going to be busy this year, but Professor McGonagall apparently gave us the night off. All we know is that Professor Snape came over to the Gryffindor table and told us to follow him down here."

"Then he threatened us with detention every Saturday at dawn if we told a single person where to find the door," Ron had a terrified look on his face and Harry doubted that the professor would actually follow through on the threat. While Snape was always an early riser, he doubted the man would commit to waking up before dawn on every Saturday. Either way though, the fact that Snape had gone out of his way to do something like this was not lost on Harry.

"Listen," Ron started rubbing the back of his neck, his face flushing slightly to match the color of his hair, "I'm really sorry for what I said last time and for... y'know, hitting you. I was being a total prat about it all, and trust me I don't think my mum will ever let me forget about what an awful friend I was. I dunno what I was thinking... it's not like you want all this stuff to happen around you... And I know it."

"Glad you can finally see that again," Harry retorted sharply.

"Whatever's going on with you and Snape," Ron started watching Hermione, more likely than not indicating that the Gryffindor witch scolded him to stay out of this one, "it's your business. I don't understand it, but between 'Mione and my mum, I've more than learned that it doesn't matter if I do. And even I know what I said wasn't fair to you."

Harry laughed; another full laugh that was so hard to come by lately. The image of Hermione and Mrs. Weasley badgering him incessantly was something of nightmares for his red-headed friend. Nodding his understanding and forgiveness, the three friends continued recounting their summer and discussing the upcoming school year as if nothing had happened between them.


	26. Occlumency 101

~~~~SS~~~~

"Mr. Malfoy, stay after class. The rest of you are free to go," Severus said in his typical long drawl as his first defense class - the sixth year NEWTs - was coming to a close.

He started the class with a quick aptitude test for each student to see where they were performing after the previous abysmal instructors. As expected, most of the Slytherins were up to par for a start of sixth year level, simply because they tended to receive extra practice at home with various ways around the underage magic laws such as unregistered practice wands. Severus turned a blind eye to the custom only because his mother had an unregistered practice wand that he was, more often than not, allowed to use.

Surprisingly from the aptitude test, was how well the members of Harry's defense group performed. He had anticipated they would do better than the non-Slytherin, non-members, but he did not expect them to outperform his Slytherins. He couldn't help but feel proud that Harry had not only stood up for what was needed against Umbridge, but he had also taught his members so well that Severus now had a full class of very well prepared students.

Their first lesson of the year was on nonverbal spells - a skill they would be using across their other classes - but the students seemed more interested in Harry's absence and Draco's odd silence on the matter than actually learning anything. The last thing he, or the Order, needed was for other students to connect the dots between Draco and Harry. Naturally, due to the lack of focus in class, he assigned a 24-inch essay on the benefits to, and process for, nonverbal spells as well as which spell they thought was the most beneficial to cast nonverbally. He was already dreading reading through them all after their next class.

Draco approached his desk as Theodore Nott, who Severus noticed kept a close watch on Draco throughout the lesson, was exiting the classroom. Immediately after the door closed Severus used a heavy locking spell and silencing ward on the door so no one could eavesdrop and they would not be interrupted.

"Any news?" He asked his student.

"You know, there's not much that could have changed since we talked two days ago." Draco said sarcastically placing his school bag on the floor then leaning against the desk in an attempt to appear intimidating, "of course with _him_ being at my house it doesn't necessarily take a summons to hear things."

Severus took note of the disgusted look upon Draco's face. This was a good sign for the blonde. While he may have defected originally to align himself to the side he thought would least likely land him in Azkaban, the professor could see some semblance of fundamental change happening within him. Maybe there was a chance for Draco after all?

"And how is our favorite Dark Lord?" Severus asked, keeping them on task.

"Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?" Draco snapped as if Severus had lost his mind, "How do you expect him to be? Charming? Psychopathic? I'm certain there are a few more colorful adjectives I can come up with."

"I am merely making conversation, Draco," Severus explained, secretly noting that had Voldemort been gravely ill Draco would have definitely known, especially now that he'd taken up residence at Malfoy Manor. Things were not adding up with the cancer hypothesis and it bothered the former spy immensely.

"Have you been able to find any significance to the date of Charlie Weasley's body being discovered at the Ministry?" The professor asked, sounding bored with the conversation so as not to place any extra importance on the question.

"Of course there was, but I don't know the exact reason or if it had anything to do with Potter," Draco answered arrogantly; then added, "I took your hint and casually questioned Aunt Bella about why the Dark Lord would pick a Saturday, of all days, if he wanted to make a statement."

"Doubting the Dark Lord to his most esteemed follower? I'm sure that went well for you," the former spy provoked. Draco was playing with fire and if he kept up with it, he was bound to get burned. To make a point, he added, "You best be careful. Bellatrix won't think twice before skewering you if the Dark Lord asked her to; don't think she'll give you any leeway just because she's your aunt."

"It was the best I could do and it got you your information," Draco snapped again, highly insulted. "She said that the statement wasn't made for the public or the ministry and that I should never question his plans." He mumbled the last part.

_Damnit, it was targeted._

The odds of a leak within the Order or directly within Harry's medical team were getting higher and he didn't like that one bit. He'd have to discuss with Albus how to handle the times where Harry had chemotherapy and he was teaching, so Harry wouldn't be left exposed. Someone in that room with him should know exactly what medications he was getting and the correct dosages for each one.

"Has he found another brewer? My last day of... service... was spent brewing a large number of potions, at some point I assume he'll be needing more?"

There was a pause while Draco thought about that question. It was unlikely the blonde would have much reason to know about the brewing habits of the Dark Lord, but he needed to plant the seed for him to start paying more attention to that aspect. If the Dark Lord had figured out about the Leukemia - and that would be a stretch in and of itself - then he would without a doubt go with the potions regimens, not even considering muggle chemotherapy as an option. There are few brewers available to brew such potions, so it would only be a matter of time before he convinced or coerced one to work for him.

Shaking his head, Draco expectantly said, "I really don't know."

"Keep an ear out going forward," Severus explained as he started cleaning up his desk, "I'm specifically interested in any unique potions he may need brewed for him."

"Of course professor," Draco said oddly obediently giving Severus the feeling that he was getting overwhelmed with all the different aspects to his new found job. If that was the case, then he hated what he needed to discuss next.

"When you are summoned while at school," Severus paused letting that statement sink in, "you are to come to my quarters immediately. I will help get you out of the anti-apparation wards where you can then answer his summons. You are then to floo back to my quarters from the manor. If I'm not there, you are to find me the moment you return; I do not care where I am or what I am doing, you are to interrupt me."

Draco's face paled as he considered the fact that he would not only be summoned again, but at some point it would be while at school. Luckily, whenever Severus had been called in during the school year it was never while class was in session and he suspected the Dark Lord would give Draco the same courtesy. Being a prefect would work out to his benefit this year.

"I hadn't thought about that," Draco said honestly, his eyes shifting as he logically went through what he'd have to do to get away secretly.

"Did you bring your necessary supplies?" He asked referring to his Death Eater mask and robes, which were hopefully well hidden away in the teen's trunk.

"Of course I did." Draco responded highly offended.

Severus nodded his approval then continued, "Do you have any objections to tutoring Mr. Potter? I can speak with Professor McGonagall if you feel it's too much for you. It will be a lot to handle on top of a full course load, Quidditch, prefect duties, and your new hobby."

"Seriously professor?" Draco smirked almost laughing for the first time since staying behind class, "It's Potter; I doubt he's going to challenge me too much. Not only that, I'm told I'll earn an exemplary recommendation from it, so it's not like I don't get anything out of the deal. "

"You'd be surprised," the professor explained, "he's motivated to stay caught up with his courses as much as possible. Plus he has little else to keep himself occupied with at the moment. Dare I say when he returns to classes, he may be more of a competition to you than you'd expect."

Draco gave a face that showed he clearly was not convinced, but Severus wasn't exaggerating. Given Harry's resolve to keep up and his lack of distraction - outside of chemotherapy - he very well could come out closer to the top of his class.

"Rule number two Draco, never underestimate others; it can be detrimental to your mission."

* * *

After Harry's attempt to leave their quarters yesterday, Severus made a point of having lunch with the Gryffindor as it was the first day of classes and his student tutoring did not start until tomorrow. Meals in the Great Hall may not have been required for the professors, but Albus definitely expected their presence, specifically the Heads of Houses. So while Severus couldn't spend every meal in his quarters throughout the weeks Harry was quarantined, he had told the headmaster not to expect him specifically at lunch today and not for any meals on chemotherapy days.

"I've made a change to our Defense lesson this evening," Severus said over ham sandwiches, courtesy of the house elves.

"Oh," Harry said, not even trying to hide his confusion. "Why? What are we changing?"

"Given the level of your Defense skills from the group you taught, as well as the fact that - while the Department of Mysteries fiasco did not have the best outcome - six 4th and 5th year students managed not to get themselves killed against a set of Death Eaters, your time now will be better spent starting Occlumency."

Harry sat silent taking in what he had just been told. He narrowed his eyes at the professor, "You could have said, _we're starting Occlumency instead_ and saved yourself about a hundred words. But thank you for the almost-compliment."

Severus pulled out his wand and summoned a book, _Clearing Your Mind and the Beginning of Occlumency_ , which he handed to Harry hoping he wasn't overstepping, "This helped you learn when I taught you in my old reality. Please read the first three chapters today and try to practice clearing your mind. Merlin knows you can use it."

Harry took the book and opened it to the first chapter. Severus was surprised not to hear an immediate complaint about the old style writing which was the very first thing the other Harry had said. Instead, he saw a conflicted emotion cross the young wizard's face.

"Why didn't you give this to me the first time?" Harry asked in a sad, confused voice.

He'd known the question was coming and luckily he had prepared for it, "Harry, please understand that while I have the memories from my counterpart here, I am not him. I still hold the persona of my old self. I can tell you what happened, but not the rationale behind each event," he explained hoping Harry could understand the implications of what he'd just said.

"Well you're a better man than he was," Harry said standing up clutching the book to his chest with the start of a scowl on his face. "Thank you for this, I'll get started right away."

Harry walked out of the kitchen and when Severus heard his bedroom door close, he said to the empty room, "I wish I _were_ a good man Harry."

~~~~HP~~~~

What made him think reading a book about Occlumency would make this process any easier? Harry really tried to get through the first three chapters as Snape asked him to, but he was only 7 pages in and he already knew he wasn't going to make it.

First, the book had to have been written at least two hundred years ago, which made the text difficult to physically read. It was written so long ago, in fact, that Harry wondered where Snape had even gotten this book. If it were in his possession in both realities it was likely to be part of his private collection, the thought of which angered Harry more than anything else he had learned from Snape so far.

_So basically the Bastard Snape - that's exactly how I should differentiate them - had this book the whole time he raped my mind for memories and then just sat on his arse watching me struggle to learn._

Second, the book gave him almost no actual instructions on how to start this whole process. If this is where Snape learned Occlumency, he could _almost_ understand why he couldn't explain the whole _clear your mind_ concept. It was a convoluted idea and he had zero confidence that he would succeed in tonight's lesson. All he managed to gain from it was that he needed to consume himself in an image that would then be used to protect himself.

With any luck, Snape had a decent first day of teaching and would maybe have a little more patience than normal. Harry laughed at that thought as it flashed through his mind - Snape and patience were never used in the same sentence together.

The Gryffindor was surprised when dinner randomly showed up on the kitchen table; along with his evening medications. Snape previously explained that he could not get out of being at the first dinner after classes just in case his Slytherin's needed anything after their first full day. Yes, Snape had the standard "open office hours" as all professors did between the last class and dinner, but for some reason he preferred to extend his available time into dinner. Never in his five years at Hogwarts had Harry seen a student approach a teacher at the head table, let alone that teacher being Snape. The Gryffindor didn't even like the fact that the teachers sat watching over the students while they all ate. It was a strange feeling if he thought about it too hard.

Once he finished his dinner alone - making a mental note to check if Ron and Hermione could come down to eat with him from time to time - he continued trying to finish the Occlumency chapters and practice clearing his mind. He could confidently say he had finished the first three chapters, but he would not be able to recite a single thing from them. This was going to be an interesting lesson.

Harry was waiting in the sitting room when Snape finally returned at a half past six, robes billowing behind him as he dropped off a stack of parchment and books in his office then went down the hallway, presumably to his bedroom. The entire time he did not say a word to Harry or acknowledge his presence. Immediately Harry's anxiety increased which, based on the only thing he actually was able to understand from the Occlumency book, was not a good start to this whole process. According to the book and Snape, Occlumency required a calming and trust-filled relationship between student and mentor; something he would have a difficult time doing at the moment.

Harry watched with curiosity as the professor came back into the sitting room no longer wearing his robes, but instead wearing a pair of black trousers and a black buttoned-down shirt with the sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up beyond his middle forearms; just enough to see the snake head on Snape's dark mark. Harry really tried not to look, but he couldn't help it. The mark looked every bit as intimidating and full of dark magic as he remembered, but now it was also red and swollen along the edges; similar to how Harry's scar looked after a vision.

"I'll return in a minute," Snape said, summoning a tea set and pouring them both a cup of tea, "I'm going to borrow the Headmaster's pensieve, so please do not be surprised when I return with it."

"Oh, ok sir," Harry half murmured, half stuttered watching Snape floo to Dumbledore's office.

This was getting too similar to last year. Harry could feel his stomach roiling as if he had just finished a rough chemo round and his breathing was getting shallower with each breath he took. In fact, he was sure the Shepard's Pie he ate for dinner would end up on the floor any second now and Snape would absolutely have a fit over it.

The floo roared to life and Snape did walk out with the pensieve as he promised. Harry audibly gulped at the sight. It was not that he expected Snape to have lied about getting it, but something about just the sight of it in front of him made the young wizard want to quickly leave.

"Try not to panic," Snape said, placing the pensieve between them. "I have a different idea planned for this tonight."

Harry couldn't speak and had barely heard a word the professor had said. All he could do was stare at the pensieve in front of him and picture the day he'd seen Snape's memory. Except it was different now; where he used to focus on his dad humiliating Snape and the bully his dad had been, now he was remembering his mum standing up for the young awkward wizard and the regret that hung over the memory when Snape called her that awful name. He thought back to the conversation he had with Snape about his mother, their friendship, and the end of that friendship.

Suddenly it made sense. That was Snape's worst memory not only because he was embarrassed about Harry's dad hexing him, but because it was what broke up his friendship with Harry's mum. If she hadn't needed to defend him in the first place, the professor would never have lost his best friend. And then to add insult to injury, she ended up marrying the same person that broke up their friendship, and had a son who was almost a carbon copy of his tormentor.

For the first time since meeting Snape his first year at Hogwarts, Harry could almost understand where the animosity came from. There was a deep seated history between both of his parents with this man and he had been put right in the middle of it without any knowledge of what had happened. Did it make it right? Absolutely not, in fact it made Harry angry to think about. Not only was Harry just a child, but he was a child who had been orphaned before he even had a chance to really know his parents. There was no way he could have known their history or been influenced by it. Snape could have resented what Harry symbolized, but the man should have at least tried to understand that this 11 year old would have no idea why he was being hated.

Harry was brought back to the present when he felt a hand placed on his shoulder. Jumping, he instinctively reached for his wand stopping only when he saw the obsidian eyes, right in front his face, full of concern. Snape had shown a lot of concern and worry over the last couple of months for Harry - in fact it didn't really surprise the Gryffindor to see it anymore - but this was a deep worry he had never remembered seeing anyone in his life have for him before.

"Are you alright Harry?" Snape asked in a voice so calming it was almost dissociated from the professor.

"No," Harry admitted for himself as well as Snape, "I'm not alright!"

"You're having a panic attack," Snape said as Harry's eyes darted between the pensieve and his professor. Snape took hold of Harry's left hand and placed it on his own chest. "Focus on the feeling of my breathing."

To prove his point, Snape inhaled dramatically, held it for a couple of seconds and then dramatically exhaled. Harry wanted to pull his hand away from the man he'd worked into hating again. However, he somehow managed instead to focus on the feeling of Snape's rough hands on top of his own and the deceptively soft shirt beneath, as his hand rose and fell with the professor's dramatically deep breaths. Slowly, Harry synchronized his breathing with Snape's and he could feel himself starting to calm; his head wasn't so fuzzy, his ears weren't as muffled, and his mind getting less cloudy with each large breath.

"There you go," Snape said quietly, "welcome back."

"Thank you sir," Harry answered, pulling his hand away, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks.

"As I was saying," Snape continued recognizing that Harry was embarrassed and not wanting to draw more attention to it, "I think we'd do well to learn from our experiences."

"What makes you think I want to relive what happened last year-"

Snape lifted his hand to interrupt Harry, "I apologize; I misspoke. What I meant was, we have the benefit of already knowing you have the ability to learn Occlumency because I taught it to you previously. Correct?"

Harry furrowed his brow taking the time to think that through. Yes, Snape said he had learned it in his other reality, but did that automatically mean he could learn here?

"What did the book say is the first step to Occlumency?"

"To clear my mind," Harry tentatively replied. He didn't need the book to remember that one; Snape yelled it at him enough last year.

The professor didn't respond, but just raised his eyebrows as if he wanted Harry to continue.

"And that there needs to be a trust between student and mentor," when Snape nodded Harry felt a part of the boulder sitting on his chest start to rise.

"This time," Snape said carefully, "I brought the pensieve for you. I'd like you to place any memories you don't want to share or even possibly relive into the pensieve."

"You're not going to use it sir?"

Snape shook his head, "No, I will not be using it with any of our lessons going forward."

Harry knew that this was not something the _Bastard Snape_ would do. _That_ _Snape_ would never trust Harry with even the possibility of seeing something he should not have.

"What about things for the Order? If I can't Occlude, won't Voldemort get to them?"

As always, Snape flinched when he said Voldemort's name but this time, Harry saw the skin around the dark mark redden more intensely. Was it embedded with dark magic to hurt whenever Voldemort's name was used? He always assumed Snape still somewhat respected the evil wizard, which is why he always said Dark Lord, but was it actually because it caused him pain?

"Does it hurt when I say Vol- his name?" Harry probably shouldn't have asked, but Snape wouldn't have left his dark mark exposed if he didn't want questions; he was too detail oriented for a slip up like that. It was almost as if the professor was inviting Harry to ask about it.

Snape nodded and lifted the remainder of his left sleeve to reveal the full dark mark surrounded by red, raw skin, "It burns as if I'm being summoned. This was a way to help ensure his Death Eaters were keeping the _right company_ and could be punished if they were not."

"I didn't realize that," Harry said thinking back to all the times he'd said Voldemort's name with Snape present. "I'm sorry Severus. Everyone always has some kind of reaction to it, so I never thought twice about it."

"It's fine Harry," Snape said, lowering his sleeve to cover the mark again, fully this time. "Let's get started. Since you cannot use magic at the present time, if you will simply think of the memory you'd like removed, I will extract it and place it in the pensieve. Nod you head when you're ready."

Harry closed his eyes and thought about the Department of Mysteries, not because he didn't want Snape to see what had happened, but because he didn't want to relive it; he couldn't see Sirius fall through the veil yet again. He nodded and felt the hard tip of Snape's ebony wand touch his left temple and then what felt like a silky thread being pulled across the front of his mind. Opening his eyes, he watched the memory fall innocently into the pensieve.

"Again," Snape said and this repeated until Harry had what he deemed as his most private or worst memories safely stored where Snape could not see them.

Next, the professor waved his wand and all the furniture moved to the outside perimeter of the room leaving only a green, silver, and blue area rug he had never noticed before, which Snape enlarged for them to comfortably sit on. Snape sat cross-legged on the rug and summoned the tea set so it was nicely placed on the floor in front of him as if he were having a picnic. Harry had to suppress a laugh at the sight of this normally stoic man seemingly having a tea party on the floor.

Snape patted the rug area to his right inviting Harry to sit down beside him. Once Harry was nervously seated, the professor handed him a small tea cup filled with a tea he couldn't recognize by taste or smell.

"Valerian tea. It will help relax you." Snape said in reaction to Harry's perplexed expression. "Now, there are two stages of Occlumency; the first stage is where the person hides away all of their emotions and memories so they cannot be accessed by the Legilimency attack and the next is when specific memories are used in place of the hidden ones to help project whatever it is an Occlumens wants his opposition to believe."

They continued to drink their tea as Snape went into all the different ways Occlumency could be used, the most interesting to Harry was a way to prevent any Legilimens from knowing which spells he was about to use in a duel. That was one purpose he had not considered and would help him not only whenever he finally had to battle Voldemort, but also if he became an Auror. He could feel himself starting to relax both from the tea and Snape's smooth, even voice as he explained the theory.

"To clear one's mind means to put the emotions away temporarily where the possible attacker cannot find them. Eventually, this is a skill you'll be able not only to do at the moment you recognize an attack is being attempted, but as a way to prevent it in the first place. It will become second nature to you."

That sounded a bit far fetched for what Harry thought he could do, but he was feeling too relaxed to care at the moment. Snape surprised Harry by looking more un-Snape-like when he uncrossed his legs and spread them apart leaving room in front of him where he asked Harry to sit. The Gryffindor will never know what possessed him to do it, but he placed his tea cup down and crawled over to sit directly in front of Snape facing away from him. This reminded Harry of his first spinal tap after his diagnosis when Snape had to help hold his head down allowing Healer Smithe to perform the procedure. Now that he thought about it, Snape had been at all of those awful intrathecal chemotherapy treatments helping, not only to get the procedure completed, but also to help Harry through it.

Slowly, Harry leaned back until he was supported almost completely by Snape behind him. He naturally had the urge to close his eyes when he heard very slowly and quietly in his right ear,

"Keep your eyes closed and think about flying. When you're on a broom flying across the Quidditch pitch and then up and away from the castle. You can feel the cold air against your face, the warm sun on your back as you fly all alone... Now, imagine flying over a forest. The treetops are so dense you cannot see through it no matter how close you get to the canopy. The tree branches are laced together tightly to effectively hide everything below them. You can only see the bright blue sky standing out against the green treetops..."

Harry's breathing deepened until he wasn't even aware that he was now only focusing on the feeling of his breathing. As he pictured the elaborate scene his professor was drawing out for him in his mind, the emotions and thoughts that had been running rampant disappeared. The only thing he was aware of was his breathing, deeply in and out, the sounds surrounding him - the fireplace crackling and Snape's calming breaths in sync with his own - and the smell of the tea mixed with the other scents from the room around him he was never aware of until now - potion ingredients, parchment, books, and the fireplace.

He was not able to tell how much time had passed when he heard Snape whisper from behind him, "You did great Harry."

Opening his eyes, it was now almost dark in the room; the lanterns lit to only a fraction of their brightness. He was still sitting on the floor, legs crossed in front of Snape.

"I didn't do anything sir," he said moving forward and turning to meet the professor.

"You cleared your mind."

Did he hear the sound of pride in the man's voice?

"Really?" He asked, amazed that he managed to do what he had failed at previously. "Though it's not exactly convenient to go through all of that every time I need to clear my mind."

Snape held back a smirk, "It's definitely not, but the more you practice the easier it will get. Now, the first step - as outlined in chapter 2 - is to find the right approach to clearing your mind, which for you is flying. Then we can work on how to use that to build your Occlumency walls, which is the canopy. Eventually you won't need the... Theatrics to do any of it as it will come more naturally than the first couple of times."

Harry gave a skeptical glance towards Snape, "Flying huh? Seemed like a pretty lucky guess, don't you think?"

"I believe in making my own luck," Snape said confidently. "Flying is what finally worked for you in my old reality after about a half dozen failed attempts at it. I simply played the odds that you are fundamentally similar enough to use the same approach here. Not only that, during your bone marrow biopsy you may have mentioned flying while you were nervously waiting for it to start."

He couldn't help staring in awe; Snape had remembered that all this time?

"That's really sneaky Severus."

"No, that's called observant and, as I've said to you before, it has saved my life more times than you can even comprehend," the professor explained while he gradually brightened the lanterns so as not to blind their eyes. Both of them stood and Harry dusted off his jeans for some unknown reason.

"So did you use Legilimency?" Harry was nervous to ask this, but wanted to know since he didn't feel any of the same flashes as last year.

"Not at all," Snape said casually as he put the furniture back in place.

"Wait a minute," Harry said upset for some reason unknown to him, "why not? Wasn't that whole the point of this?"

Treading lightly with Harry's panic attack fresh in mind, the professor answered, "Because we already know what happened when you were pushed into it too quickly. Honestly, this was a fantastic outcome for the first session; much better than I expected."

"So then why the pensieve?"

With the room put back in place, Harry sat down on the sofa and the cup of tea was levitated over to him. He picked it up out of the air and took a sip; it was still as warm as if it were freshly poured. Snape sat down in his normal armchair.

"You needed to trust me," Snape said sincerely, meeting Harry's eyes, "and you could not do so while simultaneously trying to protect that which you were scared to re-live yourself.

"Also, by having you store those memories while seeing that I was choosing to trust you by _not_ storing mine, it allowed you to again relax and trust that this was not going to be the same assault as last year."

Harry smiled; that warm feeling inside himself growing.

"So what's next?" Harry wanted to try as hard as he could to do this right and succeed this time.

"Keep practicing clearing your mind each night. Picture the forest below you, so thick that you can't see through it," Snape explained leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "That is where your emotions and memories will hide and then, when you're ready, we'll move onto an attempt to use Legilimency against you."

Harry was very aware that Snape did not use the word attack because he had made it obvious that was not how they were going to do things this time. Appreciation. He appreciated what _this Snape_ was doing.

The rest of the night was spent discussing Snape's first day of teaching defense and specifically the rumors he had heard regarding Harry's absence, ranging anywhere from being locked in the dungeon of Voldemort's headquarters, to him being too embarrassed to show his face after the Department of Mysteries, and his favorite being locked up in St. Mungo's from losing his mind until he finally did away with his relatives himself.

Snape assigned him the same essay he gave the rest of the sixth years today, which he could work on tomorrow when Malfoy was tutoring him in the classes he missed. Finally, Snape restored his memories from the pensieve before he went back to his bedroom and got ready for bed.

It was when he was alone, dressed in a comfortable pair of blue flannel pyjamas, trying to fall asleep in bed that he was able to reflect on everything that had happened during Occlumency.

While he had known - even before Snape explained the whole realities thing - Snape was acting differently, tonight it was obvious that this Snape cared about Harry as if he were still his son. Even after all this time living in Snape's quarters, Harry had mixed feelings about the idea that the professor saw Harry as a son. It was easy to get confused in his own mind - yes, he obviously knew Snape thought about him that way, otherwise they wouldn't be here together in the first place - but he never considered how he felt about that fact.

_I don't want to be Snape's son... right?_

_Of course I don't._

He was already 16 years old, he didn't need a parental figure in his life. Deep down though, in the place where he kept his deepest secret and biggest fears, he wanted one even if he would never admit it out loud to even himself. Wasn't that what all children wanted, needed really, no matter how old they get? Why else would he have been ready to move in with Sirius after only just meeting the man... a man he thought only a couple of hours earlier was a murderer and betrayed his parents?

He could feel the heavy grief covering him yet again, like a thick blanket wrapped tightly from his head to his feet, for the life he'd never lived. Harry didn't even know what it meant to have or be a parent, but he tried to imagine what it would be like to finally have someone put his needs first and take an interest in what he's doing or how he's feeling.

Harry fell asleep with only one thought going through his mind:

_If all of that is what Snape has been doing this whole time, then what does that make us now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read a lot of Harry and Snape mentor fics, most of which include some kind of description of Occlumency. If any pieces of my Occlumency are similar to another story, it's purely coincidental. Where I pulled my inspiration from is how my mom used to help me fall asleep (clear my mind) as an overly anxious child growing up, but instead of flying (obviously) it was picturing a detailed meadow. For some reason I always imagined that's how "clear your mind" should have gone when I read it in the books.


	27. You Knew...

~~~~HP~~~~

Tuesday morning Harry was generally in good spirits. The Occlumency, or clearing his mind, last night definitely helped him sleep the best he had in a long time.

As he got ready for his first actual day of classes, his mind kept wandering back to Snape and where this epiphany from last night left them. He recognized that their relationship - for lack of a better word - was changing by the day, but he had no idea what that really meant for either of them. After taking care of himself for so much of his life, and spending the majority of it being ignored, he was confused about both what he wanted and what he thought he could have. While his expectations of people - specifically the adults in his life - were low, he couldn't deny Snape had consistently gone far above and beyond what anyone else had ever done for him and Harry found himself wanting to work harder not to let the professor down.

_Could this really be the start to finally having a parent?_

Yes, Ron's parents were like his family, but they had always been _Ron's parents_. They would never feel like his own, possibly because they have their own kids. Was it wrong to want someone for himself? No, he settled on, it definitely was not wrong. He decided to table those thoughts for later.

Being that it was Tuesday and right in the middle between chemo rounds, he was finally feeling more like his old self - nausea was gone, pain was manageable with his daily medications, but his appetite still wasn't anywhere near normal; meaning now he had to eat because it was a necessity not because he was actually hungry. This was a side effect he'd discussed with Healer Smithe previously when he couldn't understand why he didn't _want_ to eat when he wasn't nauseous after spending so much time sicking up his food. Again, he found himself hoping that the next phase - which should start next month - would be easier on his body before he started classes again.

Of course feeling like his old self also meant that - for better or worse - he had a clearer mind to handle the first tutoring sessions that happened to be with Malfoy. Why did it have to be Malfoy to start off his student-led tutoring? Surely he would have thought that after five years of pure animosity between the boys, Professor McGonagall would know having three hours worth of studying with Malfoy was a terrible idea.

_How did she even get Snape to agree to it?_

Not that it mattered much now. Today he was required to have an hour and half of Defense tutoring before lunch and another hour and half of Potions tutoring between the last class of the day and dinner. That was on top of a 2-hour Charms lesson after dinner with Professor Flitwick, which he was actually eager to start, even though it would be his first time seeing the professor since his diagnosis and he wouldn't be able to actually do any of the spells.

Last week, Snape had adjusted the wards to allow Malfoy to be allowed into the sitting room without the professor's physical presence; which he had to convince Harry would be fine because the door to Malfoy's temporary quarters was now gone. At least the blonde Slytherin would not be able to simply come and go whenever he pleased - he wasn't keyed into the wards which meant Harry still had to open the door for him - easing the Gryffindor's mind against the potential of getting kidnapped while sleeping and being taken straight to Voldemort.

Snape did not hide his opinion that he thought Harry was giving Malfoy too much credit because there was no way he'd be able to get Harry out of the castle without _someone_ knowing about it and Harry would bet a lot of galleons Snape would be the first to know. However, while Snape probably knew more about Harry's escapades throughout the years than he wanted the man to, the Gryffindor doubted he knew all the details... After all, he had managed to get kidnapped from the Triwizard Tournament under the supervision of many grown adult wizards, so that didn't mean much in the long run. Still, even without Malfoy being able to up and kidnap him, it didn't make it any easier when a piece of parchment appeared in front of his face with _Draco Malfoy_ written on it - right on time during Malfoy's free period before lunch.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted as he opened the door and his most hated peer was standing in his Slytherin robes in the hallway, school bag slung over his shoulder, and with an oddly neutral expression on his face. Harry had briefly considered dressing in his uniform that morning - he was technically in classes today - but instead opted for a red jumper and jeans deciding that if he was required to stay inside their quarters then he was exempt from the required uniform.

"Were you planning to let me in or are we having our lesson in the hallway today?" Draco called out pushing past Harry and in through the doorway.

"Do you always have to be so demanding?" Harry asked following Malfoy inside, closing the door with a hard slam, and immediately feeling defensive around the Slytherin. They were already bickering and they hadn't even opened a book yet.

"As a matter of fact I do," Malfoy exclaimed before his face contorted into that of disgust and amusement, "Should I feel honored that you actually got out of your pyjamas for me this time?"

Harry narrowed his eyes to match the scowl that was already in place on his face, holding in a growl. He was wrong, Professor McGonagall wasn't crazy for putting both of Malfoy's lessons on one day, she shouldn't have chosen him at all. Honestly, what was she thinking? Hermione could probably pass her NEWTs by now; she could have at least done the Potions lesson and he taught a defense class himself last year, so tutoring there wasn't _really_ needed. Problem solved and it would have made this process infinitely easier.

"Go to hell Malfoy," Harry simply said walking into the sitting room behind the Slytherin and sitting ceremoniously onto the sofa.

The blonde dropped his bag next to the sitting room table and started removing his books, notes, parchment, and quills. Harry took notice how unbelievably organized Malfoy was compared to his own school bag that always seemed to have his books and parchment thrown in haphazardly and broken quills littering the bottom.

"Why the mood Potter? Not feeling up to my high standards of educational..." he trailed off, eyeing Harry's school supplies laid out on the table, "What's this?" He asked, picking up the muggle pen.

Harry couldn't help but laugh as Malfoy turned the pen over in his hands.

"It's a muggle pen," he said very slowly as if the other boy was hard of hearing, "it's like a quill that has the ink already inside of it.

"Also the reason why students raised by muggles have such a hard time writing with a quill for the first year," Harry still had a difficult time with quills, but he didn't want to say that to Malfoy. Along with magical transportation, it was one of his least favorite things about the magical world. Once he graduated and was on his own, he decided he would only be using self-inking quills; that was assuming he still had enough magic to live in the wizarding world to begin with.

Squinting his eyes as if in deep thought, Malfoy used the pen to make a line across the muggle paper, looking satisfied when the blue ink smoothly crossed the white paper. That time Harry couldn't contain his laugh at the blonde's expense.

"Interesting. And why do they have lines on their parchment?" There was a hint of curiosity in the other boy's voice as if muggles couldn't be completely useless if for nothing else then coming up with the concept of pens and paper.

Harry picked up his Defense book, _Confronting the Faceless_ and started flipping through it, "So you can write in a straight line, why else would they have it? Are you done with all the questions?"

"Of course your highness. Did you do the assignment from yesterday?"

And just like that, they jumped into the lesson from Snape's class yesterday about non-verbal spells. They talked about the benefits of non-verbal spells and the theory of casting a spell nonverbally; it had a lot more parts to it than Harry thought there would be. He originally imagined that once he could use magic again, he would pick up the nonverbal spells pretty easily, but he was not so confident now. According to the textbook, it physically took more magic to do spells nonverbally - and more than that to do them wandlessly - and he wasn't even sure how much magic he would have by the end of all his treatments. Curiously though, living with Snape, he knew for a fact that he had seen the professor do both of those - nonverbal and wandless spells - simultaneously leading him to question how strong of a wizard Snape is. Could he win in a duel against Dumbledore? What about against Voldemort? He shivered at the thought of the latter, but secretly wished he could see it. Now that he thought more about it, the Order was lucky to have had Snape switch sides. Where would they be now if he had still been a full fledged Death Eater?

"You seem better today than you were over the summer," Malfoy commented casually when they were closing up their books, abruptly bringing Harry back into the present. It was almost lunchtime marking the end of their first session of the day and the year. "You look absolutely dreadful, but you don't _act_ sick anymore."

Harry felt his heart rate increase instantly, as he was reminded of when Dudley would make casual conversations with him right after he started chemo. His heart was heavy with sorrow; missing his cousin and wondering how he was doing. The Gryffindor had no idea how to answer Malfoy, but he resisted the urge for a sarcastic remark only because for the first time in six years, Malfoy actually sounded sincere about something.

"Yeah," he went with, casually, "well, you caught me on a good day. You probably won't be here next Tuesday," Harry shuddered thinking about the 4 hour chemotherapy he'll be at this time next week. He'd found he really hated that set of medications the most.

"If you're feeling well, then why can't you go to classes? It seems like you know when you're going to be sick, so you could at least attend a few of them," Malfoy finished packing his bag, but didn't stand up as if to leave. Harry groaned inwardly not really wanting to have this conversation. Yes, he remembered Snape saying he should open up to people, but that absolutely did not mean Malfoy.

"For the most part it's pretty predictable," Harry conveniently didn't answer Malfoy's initial question. He didn't know what the Slytherin was fishing for, but he was not about to potentially hand over the fact that simply being near other people right now could kill him.

"So you can't even go to the Great Hall for meals? You're literally locked in here?" Malfoy asked, sounding appalled. Technically, he wasn't locked in, but he'd gone this far without any complications to his treatments and he really wanted to keep it that way.

"No, I definitely can't go to the Great Hall, but don't worry, the house elves do a good job keeping the prisoner well fed."

Malfoy actually laughed and Harry was sure the world was going to end immediately.

Instead, he was surprised even further when Malfoy asked, "Want some company for lunch?"

Harry literally almost choked; on what he didn't exactly know. Now he was sure the world was ending, but... if he were honest with himself, he was bored.

_And I can use the company..._

"...yeah, erm... that'd be great," he found himself replying almost automatically, as if his subconscious brain knew something his conscious brain did not.

_I'm going to regret this, I know I will._

Both boys walked into the kitchen and Harry was paused when he saw two place settings at the table.

"That's scary," he commented as Malfoy took the far chair and place setting leaving Harry the one closest to the door.

"We live in a magical castle, what do you expect? Our food magically appears on the tables in the Great Hall. This is hardly complicated."

_Yeah, but the food isn't listening to me._

Shaking his head from side to side, Harry sat down at the table. Lunch today was chicken salad sandwiches, probably one of the worst of Hogwarts lunches, but he was determined to eat while he could.

"So, who are you avoiding in the Great Hall? I doubt you wanted to stay for my charming company?" Harry asked, determined to take control of the conversation he was guaranteed to have at some point this afternoon; he wasn't lucky enough to get away with silence throughout the entire lunchtime.

"Who says I'm avoiding someone?" There was no malice in his statement which Harry took immediate notice to.

Harry squinted his eyes, "Is it a Slytherin requirement to answer a question with a question? Snape does that all the time and it's really annoying."

"Says the Gryffindor who just answered my question with a question," the blonde peered up at the ceiling dramatically contemplating what Harry had asked. "I never thought about that, but I guess it is a very common trait in our house; answer the question asked with the question you want answered instead. It's much easier to have a conversation that way."

"Says who? Then you never have anything to offer to the other person," the Gryffindor said thoughtfully, "eventually people will stop talking to you."

"Eh, I guess that depends on the person asking first," Malfoy half rolled his eyes, "And I'm not avoiding anyone. You looked bored imprisoned down here, and I can use some extra bonus points with the Order. What a better way to get them, than an endorsement from The Chosen One?"

Malfoy poured them both a glass of pumpkin juice, which Harry smelled skeptically before taking a tentative sip.

"I hate that title," Harry replied almost the instant his pumpkin juice cleared his throat, "so then this is just a means to an end? Not that I'm offended, I wouldn't expect anything less from the likes of you."

Placing his glass on the table, Malfoy smirked, "Now _that's_ a Slytherin requirement; take care of yourself first because no one else is going to. I have a feeling you know more about that then you let on," Malfoy took a deep breath as if it was difficult for him to admit what he was about to say. "Alright, so maybe endorsement is too strong of a word, but if Boy-Who-Lived doesn't trust me and take me seriously, no one else will. So where does that leave me?"

Harry could feel himself getting defensive. He had the urge to hex Malfoy on the spot, but he found himself taking a deep breath instead; perfect practice for his Occlumency. He refused to let Malfoy get to him.

"Just because we have lunch together doesn't mean I trust you. It means I'm that so bored that talking to you is better than sitting here alone," Harry laid his head on the table, this was getting exhausting. "And for the record I hate that name too."

"You're just going around breaking all the cliches about you today," Malfoy paused watching Harry laying with head on the table, in a much more submissive position than he'd expect from his nemesis.

Harry lifted his head up to argue that he never claimed to like going by those names, but stopped at the sympathetic expression on Malfoy's face. The absolute last thing he needed was Malfoy pitying him.

"When _do_ you get to go back to classes?" The Slytherin asked after they both finished their lunches, or Harry finished as much as he could force himself to, which Malfoy took note of.

The Gryffindor couldn't miss the genuine curiosity in the other boy's voice and he wondered if Malfoy had ever known someone with a serious illness before. He guessed not because wouldn't growing up in the wizarding world mean he had access to potions which could fix almost anything? Plus, as a pureblood he wouldn't know anything about muggle diseases.

"Whenever my healer says I can, but it probably won't be until around Halloween. There's certain... things that have to happen before it's ok to go back," Harry's voice cracked unwillingly at the thought of how long it still felt he had to go.

He could tell the Malfoy heir had other questions, but for whatever reason he didn't ask; an act Harry found himself grateful for. Instead, Malfoy nodded silently and walked into the sitting room to collect his things, told Harry he'd see him after classes that afternoon for their potions lesson and left. Harry was perplexed about the whole encounter. Yes, there was the normal banter between them, but overall it wasn't nearly as awful as he'd expected and Harry actually learned some things to help him on his assignment. He also found himself looking forward to their session that afternoon.

Harry had fallen asleep between lunch and his potion lesson with Malfoy and missed the first piece of parchment announcing his tutor's arrival. The second parchment landed right on top of his face, tickling his nose, which was by chance far the strangest way he'd ever been woken up.

"Morning sunshine," Malfoy said walking in through the doorway when Harry finally opened it to let the blonde in, "must be nice to sleep between classes."

"You're an arse, you know that?" The Gryffindor spat back. "How did you know I was asleep? Maybe I was studying?"

The blonde dropped his bag back onto the table in the sitting room and started pulling out his potions book and supplies. Obviously, Harry would only be studying theory with Malfoy, but the other boy had taken out a cauldron and several small phials.

Malfoy made a disgusted face at Harry and said, "You have lines smeared across your face."

Harry flushed and immediately reached up to cover his left cheek with his hand and scowled. Unfortunately, Malfoy was still setting up for their lesson and completely missed the effect.

"Let me go grab my things," Harry said as he was about to walk back to his bedroom to get his book, but just as he turned, the book came flying out from his bedroom, through the opened door, and into Harry's hands.

_He always has to show off doesn't he?_

He was going to say something to Malfoy about his "expertise in nonverbal magic" but the Slytherin was barely paying attention as he set up small scale models of what looked like common potions ingredients.

"What's that?" Malfoy asked after Harry sat down on the sofa, placing the old book onto the table. The Slytherin reached out for the book before Harry quickly snatched it away. "I always assumed your parents would have left you enough of the Potter fortune to actually get _new books_?"

"It's nothing," Harry said quickly; making the split second decision that he absolutely didn't want Malfoy to know about the contents of the book. He moved it to the other side of the table out of Malfoy's view, "Snape let me borrow it because Flourish and Blotts forgot to send one in my owl order."

"Seems a little old even for _Professor_ Snape," The blonde commented, placing the last item from his bag onto the table.

"Are we actually going to be brewing today?" Harry asked, gesturing to the contents on the table in front of them.

"Merlin's no Potter," Malfoy exclaimed, "Do you really think Professor Snape would want you of all people brewing in his sitting room? Even I didn't think you were that stupid."

Gritting his teeth and trying, unsuccessfully, to use his Occlumency, the Gryffindor asked, "Then what is it?"

With a smug look to his face Malfoy said, "A practice potions kit. Almost all little wizards have one growing up, at least the intelligent ones do. Professor Snape arranged it for you to practice."

Harry hated to say he was intrigued by it, but the whole set up looked pretty cool to him. There was a cauldron in the center of the table with small scale versions of all the common ingredients - such as beetle eyes, dragon horns, and flobberworms - around the table in no particular order. Some of them looked as if they could be chopped, sliced, or skinned with the special tools that were also provided with the set.

"How does it work?" He tried to keep the amazement out his voice, but definitely did not succeed in it.

"Well," Malfoy said in a less condescending manner than Harry would have expected, "the cauldron is spelled to emit a special light based on the ingredients you place it at the specific intervals to mimic the brewing process.

"You select what heat level you want first, prepare your ingredients as you normally would, and then place them into the cauldron while stirring with the special stirring rod. The color of the light will change just as the color of your potion would if you were actually brewing it. The only thing you don't get is the consistency, but for this purpose, the color will show if you brewed it correctly."

_Fine, that is brilliant. Maybe I can do all my potions this way?_

~~~~SS~~~~

"Fudge flies," Severus said to the gargoyle protecting the Headmaster's office. The professor absolutely hated that Albus alway used sweets as his passwords because he felt like a fool saying the idiotic phrases in the hallway.

"Come in Severus," Albus called before the defense professor could even knock. He also hated when Albus knew he was there before he even knocked. His theory was that somehow the gargoyle alerted the Headmaster of the incoming visitors, but he had no proof of that yet.

"Lemon Drop?" The headmaster asked while sitting behind his desk filled to brim with parchment and open books.

Severus shook his head declining, as always, the offered sweet, wanting to get this done with. During his last class for the day he had received the note requesting an update and came up before heading to the Great Hall for dinner. It was the first day since Harry's diagnosis - besides the awful day of the Privet Drive attack - that he had been away this long yet and he had wanted to stop by his quarters before dinner. Unfortunately, that would not be happening now as he wouldn't have the time to get from the headmaster's office, down to the dungeons, and back.

"When questioned about the Dark Lord's well being," Severus jumped right in, "Draco did not mention anything about the Dark Lord being ill, on the contrary he was well enough to attend the raid where he took the two muggles as prisoners. This means either I'm incorrect about the transfer of Harry's Leukemia, he has someone brewing the necessary potions for him already, or it simply is progressing at a slower rate."

"You are very rarely wrong about these kinds of things Severus," Albus said standing up behind his desk. "As there is not much other choice in the matter, we shall have to wait to see which of those three options is correct. And was there a significance of the date?"

Severus didn't need any further explanation, "Yes, but Draco was not explicitly told the reason; only that it was not necessarily meant for maximum public display."

"So we likely have a leak amongst ourselves," Albus lifted his head suddenly. The implications of this were frightening and something Severus himself did not want to think too closely about.

"It appears so. More concerning is that with Draco at school, he won't be summoned as often to keep a good eye on the enemy and help identify this person. A big disadvantage to having a student in this type of position."

Severus was pacing; between Harry and Draco he was going to die an early death from the anxiety of it all. He didn't want Draco to be summoned, but right now he couldn't deny that it was in Harry's best interest for the blonde to not only be called, but to be called often. On second thought, Severus was brought back to his own Death Eater days and how even though he was one of the Dark Lord's inner circle, he was not privy to the fact that Peter Pettigrew had switched sides. Had he known, Lily would never have died; Albus would have moved the Potter's to a new location before the Fidelius could be compromised. Who's to say Draco would _ever_ get close to this information?

"I would argue it's not so dissimilar to having a professor in that same position," Albus cautiously said watching his former spy come to that realization.

The professor in question was quiet while he considered this statement. He was not wrong, no matter how much Severus wanted him to be.

"At least when he does get summoned, it will likely be for a very good purpose," Severus explained hoping that he never had to find out what would be important enough to pull Draco from school for a summons.

The new Defense professor was being extremely careful about assigning detentions. Not only did he have a less detention-friendly classroom this year without the cauldrons to scrub, but he didn't want to add any extra unnecessary time away from Harry right now. He was sure there would be rumors about him losing his mind, but Severus didn't care one bit. Tonight however, he was already required to sit a detention that another professor assigned but could not - for some unknown reason that infuriated him - attend to, leaving him arriving back in his quarters at half past nine at night; a whole fourteen hours since he left that morning. It was days like these that he hated teaching.

When Severus first walked into his quarters, he stopped in his tracks and brandished his wand because the brightness of the lanterns throughout the room had been lowered. Years of being a paranoid spy had taught him to question every little change he encountered; for him that small change could be the difference in living or dying. Harry would have finished his lesson with Filius early enough to have needed the lanterns fully lit, so he doubted the Charms professor had done it magically before leaving.

" _Homenum Revelio,_ " Severus said and immediately put his wand away; Harry was the only other person here. He let out the breath he'd been holding, but his heart was still racing from the increased flow of adrenaline throughout his body.

Walking straight into his office, Severus dropped off the day's worth of summer assignments next to yesterday's lot. He had an extra free period tomorrow which he fully intended to use to get caught up on his marking; the second worst part of teaching, after dealing with whiny students. Still sorting through the lanterns debacle, he left the office and made his way to Harry's room feeling guilty for leaving the Gryffindor all alone on his first full day back to classes.

"Come in," he heard from the other side of the door when he knocked softly.

Harry was in his bed wearing a pair of green pyjamas, leaning up against the headboard with the notebook Severus had gotten for him for his birthday and appeared to be drawing. Harry lifted his head and met Severus's eyes and suddenly in front of the older wizard wasn't this version of Harry, but the one he'd left. It was as if for a split second, _his Harry_ was back here, as if _his Harry_ had chosen to do the chemotherapy instead of the potions and was now sketching in his bedroom waiting for his next round to start.

"You ok, Severus?" Harry asked, drawing the professor out of his memory.

"Yes," he replied, clearing his head. "I didn't realize you drew."

Harry clutched his notebook to his chest defensively, "I don't really... I mean, I used to do it a lot when I was in primary school, but not really since starting here. I just picked it up again recently; it helps pass the time." Harry was embarrassed to be admitting something that felt so personal to him even after everything they had been through together.

Severus walked into the room and - having picked up on Harry's feelings about his hobby - sat down at the end of Harry's bed, giving him privacy for his work.

"Your mother was an amazing artist," he wanted to talk about Lily; wanted to tell her son about the hobby they shared.

Harry's eyes lit up, "She was?!"

Severus couldn't hold back the smile; the fact that he could make the teen in front of him happy over such a simple statement. Unfortunately, it was quickly overshadowed by the fact that it was also a testament to the neglectful life he had lived. Harry literally knew nothing about his parents besides the small bits and pieces he'd managed to put together from the stories he heard from various sources. Severus wouldn't - or couldn't - give the Gryffindor anything about his dad, but he was probably the best person to talk to about his mum.

"Very much so," he closed his eyes falling back into the memories of sitting besides Lily while she sketched at the park in Cokeworth during the summer, out by the black lake in the fall, on a bench in Hogsmeade during the springtime, or simply in the Hogwarts courtyard in the dead of winter getting all covered in snow; her Gryffindor scarf wrapped tightly to keep her warm. She always had a sketch book and her art supplies in her bag just in case her inspiration struck at the oddest of times. Of course, all of that was before the incident in their fifth year, but he wasn't going to think about that now. Now was a time to help Harry connect with the mother he never got a chance to really know.

"Not only was she always sketching or painting," the professor continued, Harry hanging on his every word, "she could spend the entire Charms class drawing Professor Flitwick and whatever object he was using for that day's demonstration and then turn around and perform the spell perfectly. It could be quite annoying at times."

Harry looked down at the notebook, a far away expression on his face that Severus knew was him recognizing that he shared something tangible with his mother. Even though he could not remember her and even though she was not here with him, he now had something that tied himself to her outside of her sacrifice for him.

"You really liked my mum didn't you?"

Severus expected a lot of different questions from Harry, but that had not been one. He could feel himself getting defensive, but slowly breathed through the panic. This was ok, he was going to be ok.

"As I said before, Lily was my best friend for the longest time, of course I liked her," it might not have been the whole truth, but it was the truth nonetheless.

"Back at Privet Drive, you sent Dumbledore a patronus..." Harry paused as if he were composing himself then added, "it was a doe."

"Yes, my patronus is a doe," he confirmed, but he was not going to lead Harry to the conclusion he knew the Gryffindor had already gotten to himself.

"My mother's patronus was a doe as well?"

The professor automatically put up his Occlumency walls. Yes he talked about Lily all the time with Harry in his old life, but it's been a while since he's discussed their relationship for the first time.

Severus nodded, "I believe your mother's patronus was doe as well."

"That's curious, isn't it sir?"

"Not at all." He let the statement stand on its own and Harry could interpret that whichever way he wanted. The Gryffindor wasn't stupid, no matter what the Severus of this reality originally thought; Harry could tell what his feelings were.

"I apologize I'm so late today," the professor changed the subject, "it seemed that I was destined to be away as someone or something always came up."

"S'ok, " Harry shrugged, "That is your job first, so I get it. I was fine here."

Severus thought about what Harry had just said; his job was first.

_No child, you will always be my first priority._

But he dare not say that to the small teenager in front of him. As much as he wanted to, the trust they've built was still so delicate and he would not risk losing it now.

"Have you practiced your Occlumency?"

Harry nodded and pride swelled up within the professor, this time Harry was taking things seriously which could be a turning point to their relationship. These lessons could be his chance to really alter how Harry perceived him. Maybe they could start to rewrite some of their past as they moved into their future.

"How were your lessons today? My quarters still stand, so you're already better than I anticipated."

Harry laughed, "They were fine. I'm pretty sure Professor Flitwick thought he would get hexed the moment he stepped foot in here though. He kept looking around skeptically before I was able to convince him to come in."

"I cannot imagine why he would think such a thing," he replied smugly, "And your lessons with Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry placed his notebook next to himself on the bed and wrung his hands nervously, "It was actually ok... or as much as it can be with Malfoy."

"I know it's going to be challenging," Severus explained, "but trust that Professor McGonagall selected the best options for your classes. If everything goes smoothly, you shouldn't have any issues rejoining classes by Halloween."

For the second time that night, Harry's face lit up.

"Get some rest," the professor finally said, "you need your strength for this weekend."

He paused at the door watching Harry - who was oblivious to the professor standing there - draw in his notebook and he imagined what it would be like to have both Lily and his Harry back. Of course, those two would never be able to coexist; he would never have had Harry if Lily had lived. Quietly, he closed Harry's door and proceeded down the hallway to his bedroom.

When Severus was finally in his bedroom, ready to put the long day behind him, he remembered the lanterns. Harry had likely done accidental magic to lower them, something that happened almost daily now. Thinking back over all the occurrences, it was different than the typical accidental magic from young wizards; summoning something from the other room when he needed it, filling his glass of water when it was empty, healing a bruise he didn't even know he had gotten. Harry may not be aware that it occurred, but it was always something that was relevant to Harry's situation, not necessarily during an emotional state, and almost as if it were done intentionally, but unknowingly.

_That's it; he's unknowingly doing controlled magic._

It was yet another piece of the puzzle to discuss with Alton. If Harry's magical core was depleting - albeit, he admitted, at an unknown rate - how can he be doing nonverbal and wandless magic without even knowing it? And the big unknown was, how much faster will this deplete that magic?

~~~~HP~~~~

Wednesday came and went without much fanfare. Harry had double sessions with Hermione for Transfiguration and Charms and then Herbology with Professor Sprout. While Herbology technically doesn't have much magic to it, he was still limited to theory only, as Professor Sprout was not permitted to bring any plant materials with her due to the possibility of germ exposure. If Harry thought Herbology was difficult in the greenhouse with all the plants there in front of him, it was even more so strictly reading from his textbook or the small scale models she brought. He really hoped his tutoring with Neville would help bridge that gap.

Snape brought Ron by before dinner, since Hermione was already there for their Charms session, and he was beyond relieved to have company during the meal. Being well enough to get up and function made him completely stir crazy within the quarters and being alone during it was pure torture.

"Are you sure these Occlumency lessons are a good idea?" Ron asked tentatively after Harry explained how well the first season went on Monday. "If something happens this time, you'll be stuck down here with him. It'll be kind of hard to ignore each other at that point."

Harry had thought about what would happen should something like last year occur, but he didn't feel like it would be such a big deal anymore. Harry and Snape were comfortable around each other and the Gryffindor actually wanted to do well in it this time.

"I don't think we're going to have any issues like that," Harry reassured his friend. This was getting too close to the topic that caused their muggle fist fight and he wanted to steer away from that. "I'm telling you, you need to trust me on this one."

"I always trust you Harry," Ron said laughing with a mouthful of bread, "that's how we manage to get into so much trouble every year."

Hermione laughed as well as she said, "Between the two of you, I don't know how you both haven't been expelled yet."

"Being the Boy-Who-Lived has its advantages," Ron predictably replied and Harry cringed. He absolutely hated that title and he hated being reminded how much Ron actually was envious of him for it. What kind of person wanted to be known for not getting murdered?

"How are classes?" Harry asked, not only because he needed to change the subject, but he was genuinely curious how things were going.

"Great," Hermione said at the same time Ron said, "Awful."

Harry smiled at his two best friends and how different they were. Somehow they all managed to balance each other out and he was so grateful to have them there with him through everything.

Ignoring Hermione, Ron continued, "It's boring without you Mate. Seriously, Snape hasn't given a single detention and even Malfoy has been quiet in class... Potions was down-right peaceful without you or Neville around. "

"You do not mean that!" Hermione yelled hitting Ron across his upper arm for each word she yelled. "We miss you Harry, no matter how _peaceful_ Ronald makes classes sound."

Harry knew it was all in fun and didn't take what Ron had said to heart. What he did take extra notice of was Malfoy's change in behavior. If the Gryffindor's are noticing something, that was a big deal. He thought back to their strange lunch yesterday, trying to sort through the details in his head. Harry was lost in his thoughts and didn't hear his friends until Hermione mentioned Bill Weasley.

"I saw Bill roaming the halls today," Hermione said, bringing his thoughts back to his two friends. "Has he figured out how to break the curse yet?"

Ron had a sad look on his face and Harry couldn't stop the guilt from crawling back into him and settling on his chest.

"I think so," Ron said seriously. "The last attempt didn't do anything, but he's really confident on this next one. I guess he needed one last piece of something or other and Snape, of all people, was able to get it for him."

"How did Snape help? " Harry asked almost too quickly to sound casual. Had Snape been going back to Death Eater meetings? Or was it actually Malfoy who got the information for Snape? That latter sounded more logical, but he hated Malfoy being involved in anything that had to do with helping Ginny.

"Not sure," Ron said curiously, "just that mum said he had the last piece they needed and hopefully the next try will work. I've learned to mind my own business when it comes to Snape."

"How is she?" Harry asked, choosing to ignore the last comment from Ron about Snape. He hadn't seen Ginny since the fight with Ron which was too long ago.

"I mean, besides still unconscious she seems ok," the redhead explained, "She's going to be pissed when she wakes up though; just knowing one of them took her down and for so long. I wouldn't want to be anywhere near the hospital wing when she finds out."

Harry laughed again; that was Ginny. She reminded Harry of how Snape described his mum. She was feisty, never turned away from a challenge, and loyal to the end.

~~~~SS~~~~

Friday started out bad. As Harry liked to say, Severus wasn't one to sugar coat things, but even if he wanted to for this, he wouldn't be able to.

It was in the early morning hours of Friday when he awoke to an intense burning on his left forearm. It was instantly clear that this was not a normal summons as the burning was so ferociously intense it brought tears to the former Death Eater's eyes. Instead it was a way to torture the man second only to Harry on the Dark Lord's intent to kill list; a message that said even if he's not standing in front of his old Lord the man still had control over Severus. So it was on his last night to get a good night's sleep before Harry's next round of chemotherapy, that Severus found himself awake in his office continuously charming a bandage on his arm since; the newest version of burn paste having stopped working long ago.

The mark continued to burn through his first three classes - all of which were simply given review time to complete assignments - and most of the way through lunch. He gave an audible sigh of relief when it finally ended right as he gave up every attempt to eat. It had been, by far, his worst burn yet and suddenly working on a new pain and burn salve jumped to the top of his things to do list.

Unfortunately it would have to wait. Harry started his second month of consolidation chemotherapy tomorrow and tonight he had already made arrangements to have Draco over for dinner to go over his plan for disassembling the future Death Eater recruits from within their own house. He considered rescheduling the dinner with Draco to next Friday, but there was no guarantee this wouldn't happen again next week. For all he knew, the Dark Lord could torture him through his dark mark every day if he wanted to. That thought alone was absolutely terrifying and enough to want to kill the bastard immediately.

He walked into his quarters after, his open office hours, before suppertime to an empty sitting room. Harry should have been having his Charms tutoring with Hermoine, most of which had been done in the sitting room. Curiously, he walked over to Harry's bedroom, where the door was closed, but he couldn't hear anything on the other side of the door.

Taking a deep breath, unsure of what he would find, he knocked and waited for one of the occupants to say something. After waiting what he took as an appropriate amount of time, when no answer came, he opened the door.

Instead of finding Harry and Hermoine studying, he found Harry sprawled across the bed fast asleep and the rest of the room empty. The small teenager appeared so innocent while unexpectedly sleeping above the bedspread, in his jeans and blue long sleeved t-shirt and thick wool socks.

The professor hated having to wake him up, because his body needed all the rest he could get, but Harry had Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall after dinner and he needed to eat today before he started chemotherapy again tomorrow. He sat gently on the bed next to Harry torn with what he wanted to do and what he had to do.

"Harry?" Severus called out while gently shaking the Gryffindor's shoulder taking note of the skeletal feeling beneath his hand.

"...wha..." Harry slowly opened his eyes, rubbing them sharply and yawning. This time Harry woke up much calmer, which hopefully meant he was starting to feel more comfortable in his home.

"Good evening," the professor said, trying not to sound too smug about finding out Harry was sleeping instead of studying. "I hope Miss. Granger wasn't too boring. I'm sure we can find an alternate tutor for your Charms class, but I have a feeling the next best student would be Mr. Malfoy again."

"Oh, bug off," Harry smiled while sitting up and lightly punching Severus on the shoulder. "We finished early and I had some time before dinner. What are you doing here? I thought you would eat in the Great Hall tonight."

Noticing Harry squinting as he spoke, Severus reached over to grab Harry's glasses thinking about how much Harry looked like Lily without them. If Harry had not needed his glasses, would Severus have seen Harry for himself instead of James on that first day of class? Knowing where he was in his life back then he doubted it, but the question remained in his mind.

"I've arranged for dinner here tonight with you," he said, handing the pair of glasses to Harry. Suddenly a piece of parchment popped up in front of his face with _Draco Malfoy_ written on it and Severus stood to go to the door. "I expect you at dinner in five minutes."

"Are we having company?" Harry sounded both intrigued and amused, which was good because he wasn't sure how to break the news to the Gryffindor especially first thing after waking up.

"Yes, now get ready for dinner," he simply called over his shoulder heading to the front door as if this were any other night instead of a strategic wartime meeting. Severus shook his head as he opened the door.

_Why did I think this would be a good idea?_

"Good evening Draco," he greeted his Slytherin, motioning for him to come inside. Draco had obviously stopped by the Slytherin common room before coming over as he no longer had his school robes or customary school bag with him.

"Evening professor," the blonde called walking into the room for the second time that day as he had potions tutoring with Harry that morning. Draco froze with what anyone else would interpret as a scowl, but Severus knew - after knowing the Slytherin his whole life - it was not genuine, "Hello Potter, are you joining us for dinner?"

Harry gave a hard, frustrated sigh, "Actually, seeing as you're in _our_ quarters, I think you're joining _us_."

Severus closed his eyes, willing himself for patience tonight. Turning to the Gryffindor, he replied, "Both of you to the kitchen. All I ask is neither of you cause any problems tonight."

As it had been all week with term officially back in session, the table was preset with three place settings and dinner served family style just like in the Great Hall. Once the three occupants had their plates filled with food, Severus having to add extra to Harry's plate to encourage him to eat more, embarrassing the young Gryffindor at the same time, the professor started what he hoped would be a productive conversation.

"How was your first week back to classes?" He asked as if it were natural to have the two sworn enemies at his kitchen table discussing their first week of school.

"Quiet," Draco said at the same time Harry said "Fine." Both teens watched each other warily.

The awkward silence was deafening as neither boy wanted to elaborate and the tension was rising by the second. Would these two ever see just how alike they were even when though they are obviously so different at the same time? Both were confident, stubborn, and stood up for what he believed to be true. The rest of the world could learn from watching them; about how a single point of view could blind you from seeing the bigger picture. These two were so set on hating each other, neither could see the unique viewpoint the other could provide.

"How do either of you suggest we try to influence the potential Death Eater recruits within Hogwarts away from the Dark Lord?" He decided to just jump right in and was rewarded with the shocked stares from both boys at the table. As an afterthought he added, "Specifically the Slytherins."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, clearly confused.

"The Headmaster has agreed to let Draco," Severus ignored Harry's obvious glare at the blonde, "discuss the requirements and realistic aspects of being a Death Eater in an attempt to prevent future recruits from joining the Dark Lord."

Harry looked impressed and Severus didn't doubt that had Draco recommended it, the Gryffindor would have found some way to complain about it.

"You mean about living a life of servitude and slavery," Draco muttered sounding a bit disgusted with himself; another good sign overall, but Severus hated it had to come down to this to wake the blonde up.

"Precisely," the professor continued taking a bite of carrots and keeping watch over what Harry was actually eating, "I need to figure out the best course of action for this endeavor."

"Why are you asking me?" Harry said, frustratingly pushing his food across his plate.

Severus questioned to himself how much Harry had eaten while no one was here to watch him. If he wouldn't eat now, he would have to get creative during the next two weeks of chemotherapy. Standing up to make Harry a smoothie to help supplement his soon to be missed dinner, he noticed a Draco keeping a keen eye on both of them. He was proud to see the observational skill put to work. If he did this for something as seemingly innocent as dinner, then he'd be able to do it when he was summoned.

"Because I think you can provide a good perspective of-"

"That's bollocks," Draco interrupted, slamming his fist into the table. "You don't trust me!"

_Not this again!_

"If I didn't trust you," Severus growled trying to keep his voice even but failing miserably, "you wouldn't be here, you'd still be locked up with Moody. You're playing a long-term strategy game Draco, you have to stop thinking about what's right in front of you. You need to be thinking five steps ahead now and tomorrow you need to be ten steps ahead. I think it's high time you both realize that by working together you can actually _do_ something to win this war, which is more than most other 16-year olds can say."

He was so focused on Draco, that he didn't see Harry right away, but when he turned to address the Gryffindor he saw that Harry had his left hand covering his scar with blood dripping around his fingers; his jaw clenched and his eyes closed tightly. Summoning a towel and soaking it with an _Aguamenti_ he placed it over Harry's hand; the teen was not at all coherent to what was going on around him, only groaning every few seconds.

Severus knew that this had to be a vision. Having never actually seen Harry have a vision before, he wasn't sure what to do, but this was now something he was determined to stop from ever happening again. It looked fat worse than his dark mark burning, and if the Dark Lord wanted to, he could also terrorize Harry in the same manner - any time he wanted.

"What's going on?" Draco asked standing up besides Severus.

"Stand out of the way; get behind him," he pushed Draco, a little harder than he'd expected, but he wasn't sure if Voldemort could see through Harry or not during the visions and he didn't want to risk exposing Draco. "NOW!"

That got Draco moving and the blonde quickly ran to the other side of the room out of Harry's potential vision. He was wringing his hands - which had now become his sign of stress - and he appeared as if he wanted to help and run away at the same time.

"Harry," Severus shook Harry's chin from side to side, trying to get his attention, unsure if he would snap out of it by doing so. Harry kept trying to lay his head on the table, so Severus carefully lifted Harry off the chair - trying to ignore how light he now was - and laid him onto the floor where he twisted and turned in pain; scar still bleeding down his face.

"Harry, if you can hear me, you need to Occlude," the professor tried again, but he knew it was futile, they hadn't talked about how to use his canopy yet. Harry was smart enough to have figured it out on his own, however with a dark force like Voldemort in his head he doubted if it would work without prior practice.

After what felt like an agonizingly long time waiting in silence - only Harry's moaning and Draco's pacing echoing off the stone walls - Harry gasped and opened his eyes wide. Severus peered down into those emerald eyes he knew so well and saw fear within them followed instantly by anger.

"You knew... You... You knew!" Harry sat up swatting Severus's hand away from his face, the blood now leaking down the side of his eyes. Harry whipped around, eyes scanning the room until they landed on Draco and he lunged forward towards the blonde Slytherin.

"What the hell did you do to him?!" Harry called out; his voice cracking. In his weakened state, he didn't stand a chance against Severus's strong hold as the professor wrapped his arms around the small teenager.

"What is he talking about?" Draco called towards Severus as the professor deposited Harry back down into the chair.

Both student and professor were panting; Harry had more fight in him than Severus would have expected.

"I saw it..." Harry called out and tried to get back up towards Draco, "I saw what you did! You practically killed him! You tried to kill him... Twice! Can you imagine how scared he had to be? Or maybe you thought he'd be relieved because dying had to be better than what you were doing to him!"

Charlie Weasley. Harry saw what had happened the night of Draco's initiation. Which means he also figured out...

"And you knew," Harry had exhausted himself from trying to escape Severus's grasp and now sounded defeated; he sounded betrayed. "You knew for what... A whole week! And you didn't tell me?"

The hurt in Harry's voice cut through Severus's chest. It had been long enough since the murder, he never saw this coming. Why would the Dark Lord show him all of that? It was obviously intended to distress Harry, which of course it had.

"Harry..." Severus called out, but it was too late. The Gryffindor was swiping away the tears and no one in that room would blame him for crying; they understood what he saw was horrifying. "Harry, please listen to me."

"No," Harry said defiantly and furious, "let go of me. Right now!"

The professor didn't have to be told twice; holding onto Harry would only cause him more damage in the long run both physically and emotionally. The second he let go of Harry, the young wizard took off to his bedroom and expectedly the door slammed behind him.

Draco appeared just as shaken up as Harry had been. Severus was sure he was reliving his initiation and what he'd done to Charlie Weasley. The professor walked over to the counter to try and get some control over himself, holding on tightly to the edge as if he'd fall to the ground if he dared to let go. Using as much of his Occlumency as he could, he took a cleansing breath, looking up to see the smoothie sitting there, mocking him about not only how normal this night started, but that Harry had not eaten tonight. He picked up the glass and threw it into the sink shattering it and causing Draco to jump at the sharp sound across the room.

"What the hell was that? How could he know what happened that night?" Draco's voice was shaky and panicked almost like if someone else in the castle knew what he had done that night, it would unravel him.

Making a calculated decision, Severus rubbed his forehead and said, "He has a mental connection with the Dark Lord... and on occasion gets visions from him. His scar will hurt, or sometimes bleed when it happens as it did tonight."

He expected the blonde Slytherin to rant and scream, he even would have expected him to laugh and mock Harry. What he didn't expect, but should have by now, was the look of horror on his face. The look of realization that the person he'd been bullying for the last five years was not at all who he'd thought he was. Severus was sure Draco was thinking back to all the times he had called Harry _scarhead_ and that now it has a whole new meaning.

A piece of parchment landed in front of his face with _Minerva McGonagall_ written neatly across the top. Harry would not be in any condition to study tonight.

"Go to my office," he told Draco, "I'll be right there and we'll discuss how to proceed with speaking to the other Slytherins about your new position."

For once, Draco didn't say a word; he simply nodded and walked out. Before answering the door to his colleague, he walked over to Harry's room and tried to knock. There was no sound from either inside the room or from his knocking. Rubbing the back of his neck, he tried turning the door knob to no avail. In a last effort, he pulled out his wand, but no matter what spells he tried, it wouldn't budge. Harry had silenced the door and warded it locked, most likely unintentionally.

Sighing, he decided to let Harry cool down for the night. He would simply have to tell Minerva they would need to find a time to make up the lesson. Then he could get Draco started with his internal mission to see if, and how many, students he could save from meeting the same fate as Draco had with Charlie Weasley. Tomorrow he would fix things with Harry and of course - to add insult to injury - it had to be his long chemotherapy day.

* * *


	28. Another Piece of the Puzzle

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_Severus was not looking forward to this meal whatsoever. He had done a lot of horrific things in his life and yet telling Harry he had revoked his permission slip to go to Hogsmeade was proving to be just as awful as any of them._

_It was the Wednesday before what should have been Harry's very first Hogsmeade weekend at Hogwarts, however with Sirius Black still on the loose, he didn't feel it would be safe for his 13-year old son to be off of the school grounds essentially unsupervised. To break the news, he had invited Harry for dinner in their quarters in hopes of lessening the expected explosive response._

_"Harry," he started carefully once they'd made it halfway through dinner and a handful of other innocuous topics, "there's something we need to discuss."_

_Picking up on the ominous atmosphere that spread throughout the room, Harry audibly swallowed his food and asked, "What's going on Severus?"_

_"I've informed Professor McGonagall that I need to rescind my permission for you to go to Hogsmeade until further notice."_

_There was a split second where he knew Harry hadn't fully understood what he had said or the implications of it, but once that moment passed the Gryffindor was furious._

_"You can't do that!" Harry yelled expectantly._

_Severus tried to remain calm. While there were many times he and Harry did not see eye-to-eye on certain issues - such as his choice of electives for this year - they very rarely had explosive arguments._

_"Actually, I absolutely can do exactly that. It's my responsibility to look out for your best interest and safety," the professor calmly explained._

_"What do you think is realistically going to happen?!" Harry tried arguing from a different angle, "It's not like no one will notice an escaped convict roaming around Hogsmeade! He won't be able to get to me!"_

_"I can think of probably at least a half dozen different ways someone could easily get you undetected from Hogsmeade."_

_Harry didn't know that Severus was hesitant to sign the permission slip in the first place exactly for those specific reasons. In the end, he had decided Harry could not live his life in constant fear, so he had signed it. Now through, Black was getting too close and while Severus didn't think the man was smart enough to have considered even a fraction of the ways Severus thought to get to Harry, the fact was he had been smart enough to escape Azkaban in the first place so he couldn't be completely dismissed. There was also the Lupin connection to consider and though he couldn't prove it, it seemed too coincidental that the year the werewolf was hired as a defense teacher is the same year Black was out looking for Harry. Severus did not believe in consequences._

_"That's not fair!" Harry yelled while standing up from the kitchen table and starting to pace; a habit he had clearly picked up from Severus in the past year and a half._

_"I happen to consider your life a bit more important than a trip to Hogsmeade," Severus rationalized to the irate teenager. "Plus, you've been to Hogsmeade plenty of times with me previously."_

_Each year before school commenced - specifically from the Christmas and Easter holidays - Severus had taken a quick trip to Hogsmeade to visit the local apothecary and restock his potions inventory. Last year, Harry accompanied him on both occasions. Unlike his classmates, this would not be Harry's first time visiting the village, but his first time on the school sanctioned trip._

_"It's not just about getting to go to Hogsmeade and you know it," Harry accused, still angry with Severus._

_"Of course I know that. Which is why I didn't even try to compromise by offering to attend as your chaperone."_

_The professor almost laughed at Harry's horrified face. No matter how comfortable they had become with each other, Harry's friend's - specifically Neville Longbottom for good reasons - were still skittish around the professor._

_"Whatever," Harry said, the one word that irked Severus more than anything else, while sitting back down to finish his dinner, face still scowling. The rest of dinner was eaten in complete silence._

_By Saturday afternoon - and the day of the Hogsmeade trip - Harry still had not spoken a single word to Severus, except to grudgingly answer questions in Potions class. Even the detention the Gryffindor earned earlier in the week was served on Friday night in complete silence. While Severus enjoyed how clean his cauldrons had gotten from Harry's angry cleaning, he would have preferred to have his son speaking to him. It was the longest they'd gone angry with each other._

_Severus was in the sitting room marking papers when he heard the door to their quarters open._

_"Everything alright?" He called out not even lifting his head, knowing it had to be Harry; he'd likely followed the professor after seeing each other when he stopped by Lupin's office to deliver the Wolfsbane potion. Not only that, outside of Harry, Albus and Poppy were the only other people who had access to enter his quarters, but neither would enter unannounced unless there was an emergency._

_Harry walked sullenly into the room and flopped onto the sofa. He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and his red Gryffindor jumper._

_"I'm sorry Severus," the teen said quietly._

_Lifting his head, the professor met Harry's emerald eyes and could see the sincerity within them, but stayed silent._

_"I know you are trying to keep me safe. Ron, Fred, and George all said Mrs. Weasley almost did the same thing for them this year. I guess it's what parents do." Harry paused then added, "I shouldn't have acted the way I did._

_"Apology accepted," Severus placed the essay on Polyjuice Potion he was marking onto the table in front of him. He leaned over with his arms resting on his knees facing his son, "And Harry... Even when you can't see it or understand it, I_ _am_ _trying to keep you safe... Always."_

* * *

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry tossed and turned all night, dreaming of the vision he had during dinner with Snape and Malfoy.

_In the forest, everyone was in a tight circle around their prisoner. The only light came from the torches surrounding them, casting a scary orange glow and long shadows over the tattered body. The Dark Lord sat on a raised dais overlooking his followers who were all dressed in black with their masks in place; all except their newest recruit, his grey eyes frantically searching around him..._

Harry twitched in his bed trying to escape from what he knew was coming up.

_"Today we add an important member to our ranks," The Dark Lord laughed, calling the blonde forward. The teen appeared arrogant, something that would be rectified quickly._

Harry's heart rate increased and his breathing became shallow as sweat started beading up across his body. His focus was on the redhead in the middle of the circle as a variety of curses and hexes were being thrown at him, each more damaging then the last.

_"Incarcerous!" So he couldn't even attempt to fight back._

_"...confringo..."_

_"Diffindo..."_

_" Cruico!"_

_" Incendio... incendio duo."_

_" Cruico!"_

Harry wanted it to end. He wanted to wake up, knowing it was a nightmare from the vision. This had already happened and, no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to save the man.

_"It is time Draco," he heard Voldemort call. "Kill him."_

_"...Avada Kedavra!" But nothing happened. Malfoy's wand hand started to shake._

_"Again," the evil voice of Voldemort rang through the laughter of his followers after Malfoy's failed killing curse._

_Adjusting his stance and lifting his wand higher, the blonde Slytherin called out again, "Avada Kedavra!"_

_Still, there was no green light emitted from the end of his Hawthorne wand. His eyes were full of fear after his two failed attempts to kill his target._

In his bed Harry was screaming, but no one could hear him because of his well casted unintentional silencing spell. He was all alone.

_"Approach Draco," the evil dark wizard called. The other Death Eaters went silent; only the crunching of the failed teen's steps through the forest could be heard. He stood confident in front of the Dark Lord and then bowed to kiss the hem of his robes._

_"Cruico!" Voldemort casted, hitting Malfoy with his first ever Cruciatus curse. Malfoy fell to the ground writhing in pain trying to hold onto his dignity, but in the end his screams were loud and strained._

_"Stand," demanded the serpentine wizard. Still trembling, the blonde Slytherin stood with a surprising air of confidence around him. Voldemort then pointed his wand towards the teenage Slytherin who closed his eyes in preparation of another Cruciatus curse._

_"Avada Kedavra!" A green light shot out of the dark wizard's wand, over Malfoy's shoulder, and landed squarely on Charlie Weasley's chest._

_Voldemort then grasped Malfoy's left arm and slashed open the sleeve, not bothered at all by the blood seeping from the long cut he'd also made in the blonde's arm. Placing the tip of his yew wand to the pale, bloody forearm of Draco Malfoy, his sinister smile could be seen by all the moment the dark mark appeared, marking his newest follower._

_"Welcome to our ranks Draco Malfoy!"_

Harry bolted upright and immediately ran to the lavatory just in time as he tried to expel whatever he could into the loo, but having missed dinner because of the vision, only the acid bile left in his otherwise empty stomach came out. Shaking, he leaned back against the bathtub trying to calm his breathing so he would not vomit again. He'd have enough of that to deal with later today. Somehow revisiting the vision in his nightmare seemed more vivid than when he had seen it originally the night before.

Once he had some control over himself and his stomach was no longer cramping, he slowly made his way to his bedroom where he fell back into his bed. The clock showed it was already almost seven in the morning, but he felt completely drained. Between the vision, realizing that Malfoy contributed directly to Charlie's death - even if he didn't cast the final killing curse - and the fact that Snape knew the whole time between the initiation and when Charlie's body was found, he felt like he was losing control of himself. It was simply too much for him to try to process through.

Healer Smithe would be arriving at eight, which gave the Gryffindor over an hour to wait out before his arrival and the awful restart of chemotherapy. The absolute last thing he wanted to do today was restart his two hell weeks of treatments, but he summoned all the resolve he could and got back out of bed to get ready. Grabbing his favorite pair of pyjamas, which he specifically left unused for today, he went to take a shower knowing it was likely the last chance to easily take one for at least the next couple of days.

He walked quietly into the bathroom so Snape would not know he was awake yet, and saw his reflection in the mirror. During the last two weeks, even though he wasn't nauseous as often because he only had chemo on Saturdays, he also wasn't necessarily eating any more in quantity of food or more often and it was definitely showing. He had no idea how much he currently weighed - and didn't want to find out - but it had to be far lower than what was healthy for his age and height. The body staring back at him was skeletal and drawn, looking almost nothing like him at all. His eyes seemed permanently marked with his exhaustion - sunken in and dull with dark circles underneath like shadows that never went away. Turning away from the reflection he barely recognized, he went to shower.

With only fifteen minutes to spare before his healer arrived, Harry quietly walked to the kitchen, happy to see no indication of Snape anywhere. Upon entering the kitchen, there was a bowl of porridge with fruit and granola - his usual pre-chemo breakfast - a glass of orange juice along with a glass of water, and the small cup of his morning medication. With all of that was a note:

_Harry,_

_I was needed early this morning in the hospital wing and will likely be there until this afternoon. Professor McGonagall will be here before Healer Smithe arrives._

_Be sure to eat well this morning as you did not eat any dinner last night._

_S.S._

Harry crumpled the letter and sat down to start eating. In the end he was getting pawned off to Professor McGonagall; of course Snape's note said he was needed in the hospital wing so he guessed that was a good reason for the sudden change, but it still didn't help his sour mood. Maybe it had to do with Ginny? What if something bad happened to her last night? He didn't think he could handle much more, between the vision, the nightmare, his current unsure feelings about Snape, and starting the two long weeks of chemotherapy today; it just never seemed to end.

"Harry?"

The young wizard was finishing up his breakfast when he heard Professor McGonagall call out to him having just arrived through the floo. It was almost time.

"In the kitchen," he said but he was sure she could not have heard him given how raw his voice sounded.

Whether she could hear him or not, his transfiguration professor and current guardian eventually found him a few moments later, walking into the kitchen in her normal green robes and her hair tied neatly up in a tight bun. She had a sympathetic face which told him she knew today was going to be a bad one.

"There you are," she lectured. "Professor Snape asked that I stop by for your treatments this morning as he is needed at the hospital wing."

"Yeah," Harry mumbled holding up the crumpled paper, "I saw that. Is it Ginny?"

Not that the professor was likely to tell him the truth, but before she could reply, the floo roared to life again announcing the arrival of Healer Smithe.

"We'll talk about this later Harry," Professor McGonagall said reassuringly, "Let's get you started."

This would be the first time his Head of House would be overseeing the start of his actual treatment and Harry couldn't help feeling embarrassed over it. Snape was still needed to help hold Harry still during the Intrathecal procedure and now that would fall to the transfiguration professor. Perhaps he could just try harder to sit still for it to save himself the awkwardness that was sure to be felt by them all.

"Hello Harry," Healer Smithe said in a voice far from his normal bubbly personality. Harry frowned, while he hadn't seen his healer since last Saturday, he questioned to himself why the man seemed to be feeling down today. Maybe it was a bad day for everyone overall?

"Good morning," Harry said a little warily; deep down hoping the somber attitude had nothing to do with Ginny. He was going to ask if everything was ok, but at the last minute decided he didn't want to know right before he needed to sit still to allow a giant needle into his spinal cord. Even after all the times he has had this done to him, he still shivered at the visual of it.

The healer was walking Professor McGonagall through what to expect at the same time he took the required blood sample. Then he started the antiemetic through his port to drip while they waited for him to go back to run the blood work. Harry didn't anticipate any issues with it today.

"What does that do?" Professor McGonagall asked, genuinely curious, when they were sitting waiting for the healer to return. She was pointing to the bag of medication.

"It's to help with the nausea," Harry said, not meeting her eyes; then mumbled, "it doesn't work very well though."

They sat in an odd silence and his mind began to wander back to when he started this whole process with Snape. He didn't remember it ever feeling so awkward. If anything, he should have been more comfortable with Professor McGonagall than he ever was with Snape. She was his Head of House after all and until this summer, he had a far better relationship with her than he had with the defense professor. Now, she was his guardian and yet he felt like they barely knew each other.

"I'm sorry I missed my lesson yesterday," he said legitimately sorry because not only would it be difficult to make up, but he hated to disrespect Professor McGonagall who worked so hard to put his schedule together.

"That ok Harry," she patted his leg reassuringly. "Remember the schedule is fluid based on how you're feeling. Miss. Granger has said you've done fantastic in her tutoring, so I doubt you'll be too far behind next week."

Harry nodded. Not being able to use magic - and studying theory only - meant he didn't have much to work on for Transfiguration anyway so he did believe his professor about staying caught up.

"Severus told me about before," she said cryptically, hoping to draw Harry out of the negative mental state he was in.

Harry furrowed his brows in confusion, "Before what?"

"The other memories he has. The other life with the two of you," while the two professors had not discussed the other reality since Snape had originally told her, it weighed on her mind whenever she saw Snape and Harry together. She was happy they had been able to help one another - to become a family - and it appeared they were on their way down the same path here.

"Oh," Harry flatly replied. This really wasn't the best time to talk about it, but she couldn't know that, so Harry didn't want to take his anger out on her. "What did he say about it?"

"He explained what happened there, the adoption I mean. I imagine it would have been good for both of you," she let a small smile creep over her face to show her approval of it to her young lion.

He wanted to talk to someone about how he was feeling, but he didn't know where to start. Closing his eyes he asked, "Do you think he regrets it?"

"The adoption? Absolutely not. And I know for a fact he'll do anything in his power to keep you healthy and safe now, even if you aren't his son here," Professor McGonagall didn't hesitate for a second in answering, something that didn't go unnoticed by Harry.

Harry simply nodded; feeling confused about so many different things at the moment and they were all running rampant in his head. Just as he was about to ask about it again, the floo roared and Healer Smithe stepped out with Madam Pomfrey shortly joining him.

"Everything was looking good Harry," he said, still more somber than Harry would have liked to hear. "Madam Pomfrey will be the one administering your Intrathecal today since she's helped me before, but never done one herself. I'd like to walk her through it just in case she needs to perform it at some point without me present."

Harry didn't like the sound of that one bit, why would his healer ever expect not to be here for something like this. It wasn't that he didn't trust the medi-witch. After all, she's healed him plenty of times in the past school years and she's been part of his chemo team for most of the summer, but it felt almost too personal to have her do this procedure.

"Oh, erm... Ok," he finally said, laying down on the exam table that had been transfigured from the sofa specifically for the IT to be done in Snape's quarters.

The healer walked Madam Pomfrey through setting up for the procedure - explaining the syringe they use which was already prefilled with the correct dosage of his chemotherapy medication, the antiseptic used to clean the site, the numbing agent which makes the skin and muscle area numb, but unfortunately doesn't help down into the spinal cavity. Harry looked over at Professor McGonagall who was carefully watching each step the healer went through as well as reading the medication bottles and bags. Harry couldn't think of why she would do such a thing because it wasn't like she would know any of the medication names or what they did.

When it came time for the actual procedure, Harry was laying on his left side with his knees drawn up to his chest and his neck as far down as it could go. Professor McGonagall stood in front of him helping to hold his head and legs with Madam Pomfrey and Healer Smithe behind him. He closed his eyes and tried to bring up his Occlumency forest, surprising himself at how quickly he could end up high above the canopy. He could smell the trees and the grass, feel the wind softly brushing across his face.

"Harry? Are you ok?"

Opening his eyes, Harry was now laying flat on his back, as was customary at the end of Intrathecal, and Professor McGonagall looking down at him from above his head.

"Are you alright Harry?" His guardian asked again.

Harry shook his head clear, "Sorry professor. I was, erm..." he paused questioning to himself if she was supposed to know about the Occlumency, "...meditating."

"Oh that's a very good habit to have," she sighed in relief patting his shoulder. "You did great Harry."

"Thanks," Harry said then immediately felt silly for such a response.

After laying flat for twenty minutes, Professor McGonagall re-transfigured the exam table back to the comfortable sofa and Harry laid down ready to fall back asleep after his restless sleep the night before.

In addition to the Intrathecal Madam Pomfrey was also the one setting up his extra IV of morphine - because he was getting the medication that caused the stomach pain the first time - and his regular chemo through his port. With Healer Smithe still in the sitting room, Harry questioned to himself why the medi-witch was doing all the work. Maybe the healer was sick and didn't want Harry to catch it? But then Harry would have hoped he would not have come in the first place; Madam Pomfrey was more than capable of starting the morphine and chemotherapy alone.

"Have you seen him today?" Harry asked once it was only Harry and Professor McGonagall left in the room.

"This morning yes," she said knowing automatically he was talking about Snape, "he walked me through all of your procedures and medications to make sure you are getting the correct ones at the right dosages."

_That's an odd thing to do._

"Did he say anything about..." Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"About you?" She raised her eyebrows in a way only Professor McGonagall could, "of course he did. He said you would probably sleep this morning since you were likely up most of the night last night and that you may feel a little withdrawn p."

The young wizard's heart pulled. This was so much harder than he thought it would be.

"And he regrets he cannot be here," she finished, sensing her young lion's uneasiness.

"He does?" Harry asked feeling a small flame of hope fill him; maybe everything wasn't ruined.

"Of course he does, Harry," the professor said, reaching over and squeezing his hand, "whether he'll admit to it or not, he cares very much about you. Otherwise I doubt he'd be doing all of this for you."

There was another uncomfortable silence over the conversation as he thought about the implications of what she'd just said. If he wanted, he could choose to ignore what happened yesterday and Snape would likely follow his lead. It was like he had control for once in his life, he could choose to walk away from his anger or he could choose to let it consume him.

"It's Ginny, isn't it?"

There was a pregnant pause as Harry watched his guardian very carefully, trying to ignore the sympathy in her eyes.

"They're working on breaking the curse. You don't need to worry yourself with that situation right now, just try to rest."

But Harry couldn't rest. As with the first time he started consolidation, he was hit hard with the triple medications after being off for a week. Professor McGonagall did her best trying to help Harry, but he found himself getting frustrated with her more easily than he had with Snape. Somehow he came full circle; in all this time, Snape had intuitively known what he needed and when he needed it and that complicated his decision in all of this even further.

By the time Madam Pomfrey came back four hours after starting the second chemo line - Healer Smithe did not accompany her this time - Harry could barely move from the sofa due to the pain and nausea even with the IV of morphine.

"Is this a normal reaction Poppy?" Professor McGonagall asked the matron as she rubbed small circles around Harry's back.

"Unfortunately he's had a wide range of reactions to the medications" the medi-witch explained gravely, "so it's hard to say what is normal for him."

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus was sitting in Poppy's office, practically held hostage, while Bill Weasley had been feverishly working on his latest attempt to break the curse from his sister. The defense professor had been needed this morning to help work through several bits of the dark magic they managed to run into early on in the process. Now he was asked to stay as a Potions Master to help quickly assess and administer any potions should they be quickly needed. He was completely dumbfounded as to why Slughorn was not overseeing the second part of this long, tedious process as the current Potions Master of Hogwarts, however he suspected his own involvement in the Order had something to do with it.

Of course, his heart was only halfway in the present, the rest was still in his quarters worrying about Harry. Even though Harry had known in principle that the professor knew about Charlie's death before he did, the vision he received last night confirmed how long he had known about it. This could break the trust he had built with the young wizard and he hated himself for causing it.

And then he had to consider the timing of the vision. This occurring right before Harry started his second round of consolidation chemotherapy could not be a coincidence. This was an attack that could drive them apart and isolate Harry during a time he needed Severus the most, not too unlike finding Charlie Weasley's body to begin with, before his last consolidation round. He was far too practical to believe in coincidences and this would have been the second coincidence in a month. It was basically psychological warfare and if it was true, it confirmed without a doubt there was someone close working against them.

As he was standing up to storm out of the office, Albus walked in with a concerning look upon his face.

"It seems this process is taking quite a bit longer than expected," the headmaster explained peering with sad eyes out the window, separating them from where Bill Weasley was working.

"Am I actually needed right here?" Severus asked frustrated. "There is a floo in this office that happens to be connected to my quarters. I could be here in a moment's notice if you need me."

"Unfortunately, it is to Miss. Weasley's best interest to have everyone in place for the fastest response possible," Albus sat down at Poppy's desk across from Severus. "We have no idea what kind of condition she will wake up in."

"Then you need to get Slughorn here in my place," he demanded, "I'm needed elsewhere."

Albus narrowed his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles, "What is on your mind Severus?"

"We have a leak," he said pinching the bridge of his nose, "I'm absolutely positive of it this time."

Albus stood again, holding his hands behind his back, "How sure?"

"If I'm wrong, I'll take Trelawney for butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks," it may have been a bit dramatic, but it got his point across without any further question. "I need to get back to my quarters and make sure Harry is alright. I'll fill you in once all of this is over."

Severus gestured towards the main hospital wing where Bill Weasley was working on Ginny with Molly and Arthur present.

"Of course my boy," the headmaster said quietly looking between his professor and the hospital wing. "I'll call Horace immediately, you keep Harry safe."

Severus didn't say another word, simply threw down the floo powder and called out "Severus Snape's Quarters" all the while questioning if he and Harry would come out of this one intact.

The moment he stepped into his quarters, he knew something was off. Harry would have finished his chemotherapy about an hour ago and the teen liked to lay on the sofa afterwards; yet coming into the room he was not there. The next logical place to look was his bedroom which, thinking twice about it, made sense because he knew Harry could not have slept well last night after everything that had happened.

However, just before entering Harry's bedroom, he heard the sound of vomiting from the bathroom; the last logical place for him to be.

"It's ok Harry," he heard Minerva say to her young ward. Severus went back to the kitchen summoning a glass and then pouring some ginger ale into it. It wouldn't completely help in the long run, but with so few things they could actually do to ease the effects, he was going to try everything he had.

As expected, Harry was leaning against the side of the loo in his favorite green - but not Slytherin green - pyjamas with Minerva kneeling beside him. She had her hand on his back providing a little support for her Gryffindor.

"Severus," she called out when she heard the door open turning towards him with a murderous look in her eyes. "Are you certain this is helping him and not making him worse?"

"Trust me this is the best way to cure him," the defense professor said, placing the glass by the sink and removing his outer robes. He helped Minerva up off the floor, taking her place kneeling besides Harry, and then held the glass to Harry's lips to help the Gryffindor take a sip. Harry was exhausted, leaning all his weight against Severus and didn't seem to notice the change of caretaker now next to him.

"This is more severe than the other times I've been here with him, Severus," she said, voice full of worry.

He ran a wet flannel across Harry's forehead and the back of his neck, just as the young wizard lurched forward to vomit once again into the loo basin. This time though, when he finished and pulled away, Severus noticed small black droplets within the basin. He lifted his Occlumency shields back to being fully functional, to help remain calm.

"All his medications and dosages were correct?" the younger professor asked while coaxing Harry up off the cold floor and started walking back to his bed, Minerva following close behind with his IV. Harry hardly noticed them moving, only small moans escaping from his mouth at odd intervals.

"Of course, Severus," she said wringing her hands tightly on the stand, "everything matched the parchment you gave me."

The man let out the breath he'd been holding; at least he could be sure Harry had received the correct dosages and had not been poisoned. The teen was practically sleeping as he laid Harry down into his bed, covering his small body with the bedspread. Hopefully he would be able to sleep off some of the side effects this time.

* * *

Severus immediately contacted Albus to let him know he would be staying in his quarters for the rest of the day because Harry was having a rough reaction to the chemotherapy. He and Minerva then settled into Harry's room where they played several games of wizard's chess to pass the time. Harry had another round of vomiting, but since the Gryffindor was exhausted he fell back asleep directly afterwards. Severus tried to ignore the cautious look from his colleague's eyes that were screaming to him that something had to be wrong. Unfortunately, he knew this was not much different than the other times Harry had been sick from chemotherapy.

Right before dinner Poppy came back to swap the bags of morphine. Being as observant as he was, it did not go unnoticed that Alton had not been around much.

"Was Alton here at all today?" Severus asked as he finished dinner with Minerva in his kitchen. Harry had managed to fall into a more restful sleep with the next dose morphine and she insisted staying with him in case he needed her assistance.

"He walked Poppy through the procedure this morning... The one that was done in his back," she shook her head as if trying to do away with that image permanently, "but then Poppy took over for the rest of it today."

It wasn't abnormal for the healer not to be present during all the treatments, he had other patients to see as he not so nicely lectured Severus about when the professor brought up his availability last time, but it was an observation he wanted to keep in the forefront of his mind.

He was startled when Albus walked into the kitchen, having not heard the floo roar, showing how distracted he had been lately. No one should ever be able to sneak up on him, especially when he was in his own quarters. He gestured for them all to head out to the sitting room where any conversation between the three of them would be more comfortable.

"Well?" Severus asked his long-time mentor once they were all seated in the sitting room; Severus and Albus on the two armchairs and Minerva on what was now referred to as "Harry's Sofa."

"Poppy expects a full recovery," the headmaster said, sounding exhausted. "Miss. Weasley will remain secluded in the hospital wing until further notice until she's in a more stable condition. She could be ready to rejoin classes as early as October, but we will not rush it."

"Oh thank Merlin," Minerva said, placing her hand over her heart. At least one of her missing students would be back to help bring about some sense of normalcy to their house. The Gryffindor tower had been taking the loss of their two housemates very hard this week.

"As to your missive Severus," Albus continued, "I believe I've found something that might be of interest to you."

Albus handed Severus a book he hadn't seen the headmaster carrying, _Magical Theory vol. IV - The Life and Death of the Magical Core_ , with a bookmark placed on page 442.

Severus looked it over as Albus continued, "It is my belief that Harry is experiencing a physical manifestation to his magical core depleting. It would explain why he's having such a violent reaction to the muggle medications. If you will Severus."

The defense professor lifted his head to meet the headmaster's eyes, then went back to the book and read out loud:

_The death of the magical core can be a painful event and as such, the witch or wizard would be aware of its occurrence. When placed in a situation that can cause explicit depletion to the magical core in a short period of time, the witch or wizard will experience episodes of increasing discomfort or pain as a defense mechanism to prevent the erasing of one's magical signature..._

Minerva gasped covering her mouth with her trembling hand. They had all known Harry could lose his magic from it continuously trying to cure the side effects due to the chemotherapy medication - it was more probable than not that he would lose at least some of it - however to have it not only written clear as day in front of them, but to also know it would be painful for Harry, was almost too much to bear.

Severus stood up and started pacing across his sitting room thinking rapidly about how he could fix this before picking up a book from the table and throwing it across the room. The book hit the wall with a loud bang and neither of the other occupants made a sound. There was nothing he could do to fix this and worse, when the pain eventually stopped coming, it would mean Harry's magical core was gone. They were in a lose-lose situation.

"So what do we do?" Minerva was the first to speak, her voice quivering gently.

The defense professor turned around, the pain in his eyes unable to be hidden behind his already full Occlumency shields, "We keep him as comfortable as we can. Unfortunately, there's not much else we can do; he needs the chemotherapy to kill off the cancer cells or he'll die. It's that simple."

* * *

Severus had been locked away in his office; Albus and Minerva having left shortly after their discovery of Harry's magical core issue. For a small moment he was half tempted to simply take Harry back to Spinner's End and forget all about the school and people here, but they both needed the protection Hogwarts was providing. Then of course, he also was not sure Harry ever wanted to speak to him again. Using his anxiety as a source of energy, he completely ignored the plethora of marking he still had to complete and started notating every thing that related to Harry's cancer, his magic, the Dark Lord, the Burrow attack, and the vision attack. If there was a connection to be made, he was hell bent on finding it.

To keep himself organized, he started writing down what he knew: there was a high probability Voldemort had, in some way, picked up Harry's cancer by using his blood in the resurrection ritual, but they couldn't do anything with that and it did not appear like the megalomaniac was days away from dying as he should have been; Harry's severe reaction to the chemotherapy is in part due to his magic fighting against being erased, so not only does that prove he's losing his magic, but that it will be a painful process; yet Harry is doing unintentional magic - wandless and nonverbal - showing great use of his magic instead of losing it; and then there was the leak within his medical team, someone who knows not only when Harry is getting his chemotherapy, but how he's been reacting to it and knowing that was the time to attack. The list of people who would know this information was so small and had gotten smaller since Charlie Weasley's death.

All of those thoughts were immediately tabled when the sphere he'd been trying to will to life, glowed yellow - not an urgent call, but still one indicating that Harry needed assistance. He vanished the papers and books to the cabinet for safe keeping and quickly left his office for Harry's bedroom.

Tentatively and nervously, more so than he'd been recently, he opened the door. Harry was sitting up in bed staring down idly at the sphere in his hands that he had recently squeezed; as if he had been contemplating if he should have done such a thing. As if he might regret the fact that he squeezed it.

"Are you alright Harry?" Severus asked, more than a little confused. Nothing seemed immediately wrong with the teen in front of him.

"I think whatever that was has finally passed," Harry said barely making eye contact. "That was a bad one; I don't remember much from this afternoon."

Pulling out the chair from Harry's desk, Severus sat down so he was sitting across from Harry. He resisted every urge he had to embrace Harry, to do anything he could to ease the pain and confliction he knew the young wizard was feeling.

"We think we know what's causing it," he said carefully, wanting to break the bad news as easy as possible, "when a wizard's magical core is being threatened, it can have a volatile reaction. It's the headmaster's assumption, and I agree, that it is your magic reacting against the stream of chemotherapy medications. You're a strong wizard Harry, it makes sense your magic would fight back as much as it can."

"So all of this is actually killing my magical signature?" Harry's voice cracked at the end.

How could he refute that statement? It's not like this was news to either of them.

"Unfortunately, yes it does appear that way."

A silence enveloped them as they both considered what this meant and where to go from here. At some point, they would need to discuss what Harry would do without magic if it came down to it. Beyond the basics of finding a new place to go to school and a new career, he couldn't protect himself from the Dark Lord. Until Voldemort was defeated he would constantly live in fear.

"I'm sorry," Harry said so quietly Severus thought he'd imagined it at first. Then Harry lifted his head and the professor could see forgiveness in his green eyes; everything would work out between them eventually.

"You have nothing to apologize for Harry," Severus replied honestly, "I should not have lied by omission. Please understand though, I could not tell you anything until the Weasley's knew first, and they were not notified until we had confirmation."

Harry winced at the word _confirmation_ and Severus knew he was thinking of the body because that's exactly what the professor had meant.

"Is that what you used to do," the Gryffindor asked with a trembling voice, "when you would get summoned?"

The former Death Eater's breath hitched at the question. That question took him completely off guard.

"Unfortunately yes it was," he admitted feeling ashamed of himself. "Of course, if you ask any Death Eater, most would tell you that they did not really know what was involved in until their initiation."

"Did you kill someone when you got your dark mark?" Harry's eyes pleaded for him to be wrong, but the teen already knew the answer. They had discussed his own initiation when Draco had stayed at the castle for training.

"Yes," Severus hung his head ashamed yet again. He wouldn't try to make it appear better than it was by telling Harry he had no idea what was going to be required of him to take the mark, that even as Lucius was recruiting him, his acquaintance never said a word about it. He would not tell Harry how scared he was that if he didn't kill the man in front of him that night, then he himself would have been killed. Instead he let the single word hang between them.

"Why did you become a Death Eater?"

This question he had expected. Everyone wants to know why one chooses that life.

"For respect... And for honor," Severus said confidently. "I had always been interested in the Dark Arts and at the time, the Dark Lord would allow me to explore that further. Then I had my own issue with muggles that I thought I could put to rest by joining _him_."

There was a pause as they both thought about what was admitted.

"Your father?" Harry eventually asked.

"Yes," another single word that required no further explanation.

"What about my mum? I thought you..." Harry rubbed his forehead like he was trying to push a headache back.

"At that point, Lily and I had our falling out and it was clear she was never going to forgive me... then she started dating James and..." He trailed off as the grief cut through him like it was only yesterday. He would not lie though, not to Harry, "Even if she hadn't broken our friendship, it wouldn't have mattered. Deep down, I already had my mind made up that I wanted to join. In the end, I wanted the respect more than anything else and it cost me more than anyone will ever know.

"Somehow I thought I could separate the other muggles - like my father - from Lily, which now seems petty and ridiculous, but at 17 and 18 years old it made sense to me. I told you the truth that I never considered Lily a... What I ended up calling her that day by the lake."

He could tell Harry was listening and taking what he said to heart as he worried his bottom lip. This was a big conversation to have that brought to light how strange it was to have the Boy-Who-Lived living with a former Death Eater turned Spy. And yet somehow, after all of that Harry didn't look scared of him at all.

"And I knew all of this in your old world?"

"Of course," Severus said without hesitation, "We discussed it very similarly to how we are now. Before the adoption, I wanted to make sure you knew everything about my past; so you wouldn't feel like you were blindsided when it inevitably turned up. And it turned up every single time I spoke to someone at the Department of Children's Services."

It was true they had discussed it, but in his old reality he had literally told Harry everything, including the prophecy - or the half he knew of it at the time - and his direct involvement with it. He was surprised when Harry had not reacted as volatile as he had expected that night.

"One more question," Harry asked confidently, which was a good sign for where this was going. "Why did you switch sides?"

There it was... The question he never wanted to answer to anyone, especially now.

"As I previously told you, that's an exceedingly personal question," Harry went to speak up, but Severus raised his hand to interrupt before he could, "but one I'll give you a little insight to...

"The Dark Lord threatened someone close to me and in that moment I knew I could not trust him. I was determined to do what I could to protect this person, so I went to Professor Dumbledore who promised to help. In return, I pledged my service to him and the Order. Not too dissimilar to Mr. Malfoy's defection here, although the person he is trying to save is himself."

Harry only nodded, but Severus knew there was no way he _didn't know_ it was Lily. Harry would put the pieces together that the prophecy was what drove Voldemort to target his loyal Death Eater's best friend - someone who he may have wanted to be more than just a friend - and that single decision caused him to defect. But Harry would never guess that it was Severus who provided that prophecy to his master. That at the time Severus was proud of what he'd been able to provide even knowing it would kill an innocent child.

"Ok. I don't like it, but I can live with that," the teen said and Severus's heart was lighter.

"Want to go play some chess? I'm not feeling much like sleeping at the moment," Harry asked smiling at Severus.

"Of course," he stood and helped Harry off the bed and followed him as they walked into the sitting room.

"Miss. Weasley has been cured of her curse," the professor said while setting up their game. Harry always played white against him.

"Really? Can I go see her?" Harry asked anxiously, eyes lighting up at the news.

"She's still very weak," Severus explained relaying back what Albus had told him earlier, "but Madam Pomfrey and Bill Weasley expect she'll make a full recovery. Perhaps on Thursday you can visit, once you're through Tuesday's chemotherapy."

"I doubt I'll feel much like going in the next couple of days anyway," sighing dramatically Harry continued, "What about classes this week? Won't I get behind if I don't have any?"

"It's a possibility," he answered honestly. "We'll take it day by day and base it on how you are feeling each morning. I've already told Albus I will be here at all times. I'm not in class on Monday and Tuesday, and during my class time either Professor McGonagall or Mrs. Weasley will stay here. Someone will be with you at all times during your treatments."

Harry nodded having already heard this when he had gone through the tutoring schedule initially. As the pair continued to play Severus's mind kept going back to the parchment in his office. Now that things with Harry have smoothed over, he wanted to finish putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Instinctively he knew they all had to be tied together, but he had no way of knowing how many pieces were left to uncover and that at least one was closer than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a WIP that was started on another site and was recommended to post here. This is the last chapter I had pre-posted, but I usually try to do at least 2 updates per week (one scheduled for Friday as long as I'm far enough ahead offline). Next update should be Tuesday or Wednesday.


	29. Getting Closer

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry was left with a lot to think about while he was sitting through his four hour chemotherapy on Sunday morning.

Armed with the new information that his extreme pain was likely due to his depleting magical core and not only the chemo side effects, Healer Smithe ordered the IV of morphine to be used for all his treatments going forward - not just Saturdays - and he left Snape with information on a morphine pump should he decide it was getting to be too much. The pump would be a small device inserted into his body with a tube running to his spinal cord to deliver the morphine that way instead of through an IV or his port. While it would likely give him a much better result with the morphine being directed into his spinal cord on a regular basis, it would need to be surgically placed - similar to the port - and he really didn't think he could go through that again. Yes, the pain was bad while it was happening, but the thought of anymore _things_ in his body was more terrifying. Snape said they could discuss it when Harry wasn't in any pain, so he could make a clear decision, and would then leave the final decision up to the Gryffindor.

Harry was still unsure how he felt about everything that happened from the vision on Friday night. He already didn't trust Malfoy and now knowing that the Slytherin was the one to torture and almost kill - wanted to kill - Charlie, was just more reason they shouldn't allow him anywhere near any Order business. But on the other hand, no matter how much he wanted to, Harry could not deny what he'd seen; that Malfoy's initiation was awful and deep down he felt some kind of empathy for his classmate. The fact that Malfoy _couldn't_ actually use the Killing Curse, even if he did use the Cruciatus, gave him some reason to doubt his own thoughts on the matter and only confused him further. If he were being honest, he couldn't really hold Malfoy responsible for using the Cruciatus Curse when he tried to do the same thing to Bellatrix last June... sometimes he hated his Gryffindor honor. Wherever he ended up with Malfoy, he also needed to think about what would happen if Ron found out he knew - which he naturally assumed he was not supposed to tell his best friend - the mere thought of that made him shutter.

Then there was the conversation with Snape last night running through his mind. He never expected it would take the turn it did and he definitely never expected to feel defensive on behalf of the professor. Harry had as much reason to hate muggles as Snape, but he'd never consider joining the Death Eaters. Just their name sounded like it would go against all of his morals, so that alone was reason enough to stay far away from them.

At the same time though, he couldn't discount the fact that he knew Snape's life growing up was as difficult as his own was at the Dursleys. Harry recognized that he'd been lucky because he had been able to use his injustices to empower himself and at the same time he did not let it consume him as Snape likely did. Plus, Harry got to leave his tormentors each September until June, whereas Snape just traded his rough home life for his rough school life. In the end, it was obvious Snape didn't necessarily have the same resolve Harry did when coming to Hogwarts to handle his school bullies. Closing his eyes, Harry tried to imagine what it would be like to be surrounded by people who idolized Voldemort, when you only had one friend and she was in the house against your own. He could almost feel the loneliness creeping up inside of him if he had to deal with the teenage versions of his dad and Sirius without Ron or Hermione by his side. It was no longer black or white and it hurt his head if he tried to think about it too much at one time.

"How are you feeling?" Snape asked, walking out of his office late Sunday afternoon. He'd spent a lot of time in there recently and Harry really wanted to know why, but never asked; if Snape wanted him to know he would have said so by now.

"As good as can be expected. I'm getting used to all this and don't get me wrong, it's awful, but as long as the burning pain isn't here I can handle it," Harry had finished chemo about two hours ago and was attempting to sketch on the sofa between the rounds of vomiting. Never did the young wizard think that vomiting this often would become the normal course of his life.

Snape sat down in his armchair watching Harry for signs of anything alarming. Apparently Harry passed whatever test it was because the man in front of his said, "I've been telling you that it's my belief that you do better with select information, last Friday being a prime example, so I think it's time we test that theory."

It may have seemed odd to anyone else, but Harry was flooded with excitement! _Finally_ someone was going to voluntarily give him information; unprompted too! He placed his sketchbook off to the side, leaning forward so he could give Snape his full attention.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, aware that this could very well be bad news, but he craved it anyway. He wanted to feel like he was helping and not simply existing and trying to live.

Snape steepled his hands, choosing his words carefully, "I've been doing a lot of research on your cancer-"

Harry couldn't help but to smile, something that distracted Snape from his train of thought, especially when Harry claimed, "You sound just like Hermione."

The professor narrowed his eyes and replied unamused, "Since I am the adult, I think the correct turn of phrase is that she sounds just like me."

Harry hadn't thought about it like that, but he couldn't really refute the logic so he waited for Snape to continue.

"As I was saying," the professor said seriously, bringing Harry back to the conversation they were about to have, "as you already know, your cancer resides in your bone marrow. Therefore there are certain... characteristics that make it unique."

_He's going to try to make me figure this out on my own isn't he?_

"Like what?" Harry decided to play along for the time being, hopefully at some point Snape would get frustrated and simply tell him what was going on.

"For one," the professor continued, "you can never donate bone marrow because while cancer, in general, is not contagious, the instructions - so to say - for your Leukemia reside within your bone marrow and it can be shared if you were to give your bone marrow to another person."

"That's not a problem," Harry said slowly as if what he was about to say was of the utmost importance, "after all of the biopsies I'm sure to go through in the next three years, I don't think I'll ever want to _voluntarily_ go through that procedure again. I'm not missing out on anything by not donating my bone marrow."

"Let me try this another way... the bone marrow is where the components of the blood are born - for every human," Snape said; both amused and frustrated with Harry's line of thinking, "and let us say you were to give some of your bone marrow to another person or your bone marrow, _your blood_ , now makes up that of another person, the instructions for your cancer would then reside within that person's blood..."

He trailed off hoping Harry would catch on and was pleasantly surprised when the Gryffindor's eyes went wide with realization.

"Vold- I mean... You-know-who can have it then," Harry sat up straighter running his hands over his covered hairless head, clearly a habit from when his head was full of unmanageable black hair, "He used my blood to recreate his own, so that would mean there's a chance he has this."

"Exactly," Snape sighed in relief. "What we have not been able to ascertain is how far along it has progressed. For reasons unknown, it does not appear nearly as aggressive as your own."

Harry frowned in deep thought, "Well, that's simple - he's a stronger wizard than I am. His magic is probably doing a better job fighting it like mine couldn't, or wouldn't do, in the first place."

"Not necessarily," Snape leaned back as he walked through this logic in his own mind as well as with Harry. "Even if one were to ignore the prophecy's statement of _the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,_ you have unfortunately contended against the Dark Lord on five separate occasions and he has yet to be victorious-"

"You mean he hasn't managed to kill me yet," Harry interrupted sarcastically.

"Precisely," Snape admitted with a warning look to his eyes, "No matter my feelings on the matter, do not discount those encounters, Harry. However you managed to become affected by your cancer it is not because you are a weak wizard. On the contrary, you are an extremely strong one."

That was a huge compliment, especially from Snape. Harry worried his bottom lip, thinking hard about what that meant about himself and the situation against the dark wizard. He decided to start with asking about himself; this opportunity wouldn't always be so perfectly set up.

"How did I manage to get the cancer?" It was always the first question that was asked and he had been thinking that it didn't matter to him _how_ he got it, just that it happened, but deep down it did matter. He wanted to know... _why me?_

"Well," Snape said going back in his mind to the hours of reading that he had done recently, "Leukemia is typically genetic, meaning it's passed down within families. Your mother was obviously a muggleborn, so there is likely a family history of Leukemia somewhere in her family line."

Harry considered that and for once wished Aunt Petunia was still alive to ask. Had anyone else in his family fought the same disease he was fighting? And if so did they survive it? Dudley probably wouldn't know, but Harry decided to ask in his next letter to his cousin.

"But my magic should have gotten rid of it," Harry stated, allowing the unfairness of it all to fill him to his core. "That's why wizards don't get a whole range of muggle diseases."

"Theoretically you are correct," Snape said, picking up on Harry's current mood and treading lightly, not wishing to add fuel to his fire. "However, there is clearly something that prevented your magic from doing away with the Leukemia cells and I am working on finding out as much as I can on what that is."

Harry, who hated being different or the exception to every rule, didn't like the sound of that at all. What could cause his magic to not prevent something as important as this? He would have taken a myriad of other muggle illnesses over this one.

"So then, Vol-," he cut himself off again. Since learning that Snape had physical pain whenever he said Voldemort's name, he was trying his hardest not to say it, "you-know-who, has something that I don't have, but you don't think it's just more powerful magic?"

"Exactly," the professor confirmed, "if it were as simple as levels of magic, you would not have gotten it to begin with; every wizarding medical book supports that statement."

It made sense to Harry in theory, but in reality he does have Leukemia and it is trying to kill him so there wasn't much else he could think of besides his level of magic.

* * *

Even though Monday was a chemo day, Harry wanted to attempt to do his tutoring. On Monday's he had Herbology and Transfiguration tutoring during the day, with Neville and Hermione respectively, followed by defense with Snape in the evening. He had no doubts he'd be at least well enough for his evening classes, but with only each class being taught once a week for two hours, he realistically needed the tutoring to stay caught up.

On Monday morning, Harry was up, showered, and dressed with more energy than he had expected; it was one of those rare good days. Today's Herbology tutoring would only be his second time seeing Neville and the first time while actually getting a treatment done. As a pureblood, Neville wasn't aware of anything Harry was having to deal with, but he had been respectful enough the previous week not to ask too many personal questions. The same could not be said about Malfoy who asked whatever the hell he wanted regardless of how personal it was. Harry was already dreading tomorrow's set of tutoring with the Slytherin and was highly considering canceling it just because he could.

"I have a full schedule before lunch today," Snape lectured after breakfast, as Harry sat on the sofa and Madam Pomfrey set up his four hour chemo; Healer Smithe had been by earlier that morning for the blood sample, but did not return, choosing to send the results to the medi-witch, "but Mrs. Weasley will be here and then I'll be by for lunch and during my free period later this afternoon."

"Aren't you supposed to be in your office during your free periods? In case, I don't know, a student has a question or something?" Harry asked sarcastically. While the Gryffindor had never really needed to visit a professor during their free periods because he had Hermione to answer any question he had - and he would never be caught dead going to Snape's office voluntarily - theoretically he understood why they had open office time. As much as he wanted Snape to stay with him, he also didn't want it to come at the expense of the other students' education.

"Yes, and as I said last month, this new position allows me a bit more flexibility," the professor replied with a touch of anger in his voice; he was walking about their quarters collecting all his required supplies for class which Harry assumed threw off his morning. Not long after, Snape left for his first class, which Harry knew was supposed to be his own defense class. Last year, the thought of starting the week in Snape's class would have ruined his whole year; now he was actually looking forward to it once he could return to classes.

Harry had pulled out his Herbology essay on poisonous plant identifications when the floo roared and Mrs. Weasley stepped out.

"Good morning Harry," the Weasley matriarch called out, walking over to give Harry a careful hug so as not to crush the line going into his port.

"Good morning Mrs. Weasley," he replied, but then jumped right into asking, "How's Ginny doing?"

"Getting stronger by the minute. You know our Ginny, she's a stubborn one," Mrs. Weasley pulled out her customary knitting - it looked like it was going to be a gold scarf - and started working. "Madam Pomfrey thinks she'll be able to join classes even before October."

Harry nodded, not trusting his voice to sound confident that she would be alright at the end of everything. Maybe it was a bit of a projection of his own feelings on his situation, but he didn't want to risk it. If anyone could come out of this and stroll back into classes, Ginny could.

Neville showed up for their Herbology lesson when Harry still had an hour left of his chemo treatment. It was immediately obvious the other boy was more comfortable in Snape's quarters now that Mrs. Weasley was present. Last week it took a lot of convincing on Harry's part that he was not going to be expelled for entering Snape's quarters and then Neville still spent most of the time peering around the room and stuttering. At first, Harry questioned why Neville would even agree to do this in the first place because of how much he was afraid of Snape, however if the situation was reversed Harry would do in a heartbeat for any of his friends, showing what good friend Neville was to him.

"Hey Harry," Neville greeted when Mrs. Weasley showed him into the sitting room. He had his school bag slung over his shoulder and his eyes were shifting between Harry, the IV stand, then Harry's exposed port site making Harry the uncomfortable one this time, "Professor McGonagall told me you might not be up to lessons today, so... just let me know if you want to stop."

"I'll be fine Neville. I really don't want to start NEWTs behind," Harry explained; determined not to waste the fact that he managed to get into all the NEWT classes to be an Auror. With his luck, he'd have to repeat them at the same time Snape went back to being the Potions professor and he'd never get back in. This was all assuming he had enough magic at the end of all this, but if he made that assumption then he might as well not bother at all. "Let's just get started."

For NEWT Herbology, Professor Sprout was starting them off with the plant identifications they will be using throughout the year - with emphasis on the poisonous or otherwise dangerous ones - before getting into specific lessons for each individual family. They were making great progress, only needing to stop twice for Harry to have an episode of vomiting; both times Neville gave him the privacy he needed.

"What is a green, spiky, toothsome magical plant with mobile vines that try to grab living prey?" Neville asked once they got back on track after the second time they stopped because Harry was sick.

"Erm..." Harry thought, rubbing the side of his neck in concentration and frustration. He knew they had literally just gone through this one, "Venomous Tentacula?"

"Exactly!" Neville sounded immensely proud of Harry. Neville really was a great tutor and it was good to see him with some self-confidence for a change.

"All set there Mister Potter?" Madam Pomfrey announced when she arrived a moment later through the floo to disconnect Harry's medications. She gave a little jump, startled to see Neville sitting besides Harry on the sofa with textbooks, parchment, and small models of various venomous plants sitting out in front of them. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had a class at this time."

"Oh it's alright Madam Pomfrey," Harry said awkwardly looking to Neville besides him, "This will just take a minute Neville."

"Sure thing Harry," the other boy stood and walked to the other side of the table to give the medi-witch space to work. He started packing up the notes they had previously completed, all the while watching curiously as the line to Harry's port was removed and flushed, and the morphine was changed.

By the time the medi-witch left, they had less than 20 minutes until lunch.

"So," Neville started nervously, "what is all that stuff Madam Pomfrey was doing?"

"Oh... erm," Harry started feeling his face flush; Neville was the first person, besides Malfoy, who hardly counted, to ask him about it. Of course, he was also the only other person to see him that didn't already know about it all; obviously his professors had been notified of the details on his illness.

"I won't tell anyone.. but you can tell me to sod-off if you want to," Neville was back to sitting next to Harry willing his friend to confide in him.

Harry thought back, yet again, to the conversation he had with Snape about talking to his friends. Last year, when Harry was determined Sirius was in trouble at the Department of Mysteries, Neville didn't think twice about joining them. He was a good friend, and Harry could use as many friends as he could get right now.

"No, it's ok," Harry said, taking a deep breath through the anxious thoughts and stared down at his stocking feet, "it's medicine... Muggle medicine actually. I have something called Leukemia."

"I've never heard of that," his friend said thoughtfully, not accusatory what so ever. "It looks pretty serious."

"Yeah, it's pretty bad. It's a muggle disease that's in my blood and it's rare for a wizard to get, but somehow I got it and if I don't have this medication for the next three years, then... I'll die," something about saying those last two words was so freeing to Harry. Then, once he started talking about what was going on inside his blood and body, it was like a flood gate opened and he was suddenly telling Neville about it all.

He explained about what cancer is and about how the chemotherapy works, he explained why it makes him so sick and why he has no hair. He talked about his port; what it looks like and where it's connected inside his body, going as far as allowing Neville to touch it when the other boy asked if he could. At the last minute he decided _not_ to mention anything about his magical core, instead going with the idea that magic could cause complications with the muggle chemotherapy as the reason he could not use it. But most importantly, he talked about how scared he was; how much he missed classes and his friends; how unsure he felt about his future.

As expected, Neville listened to what Harry was explaining and asked engaging questions along the way. By the end, just like Snape predicted, Harry was feeling better after talking about it all. Lately, most of the times he had talked with his friends, he wanted everyone to ignore the cancer so it wouldn't define him, but in reality it wasn't something _he_ could just ignore. Sometimes it was nice to pretend it wasn't there, but it was equally important to tell someone about what he was going through and how he was really feeling.

The boys were in the middle of talking about how Dean wanted to try out for the Quidditch team this year when Snape walked in, robes billowing in his typical fashion. Neville stopped talking mid sentence and instantly went pale.

"H-hi P- professor Snape," the scared Gryffindor stuttered to his defense professor. Harry was surprised even those words came out based on how much trembling the boy was doing.

"Good afternoon Mister Longbottom," Snape said as casually as possible for the long morning he'd had. "Will you be joining us for lunch?"

"N-n-no, sir!" Neville jumped up at the terrifying offer stuffing the last bits of parchment into his bag and heading towards the door, "I'll see you Thursday Harry!"

Neville abruptly left out of the door barely making eye contact with anyone in the room.

"You didn't have to scare him," Harry accused following Snape into the kitchen where the table was set for lunch for two; Mrs. Weasley having left for lunch in the hospital wing with Ginny.

"In my defense," Snape started portioning out soup for Harry and a turkey sandwich for himself, "I invited him to lunch not to a duel. If you care to know, Mr. Longbottom and I actually had a decent time in class this morning and therefore I did not anticipate a reaction of that sort."

Harry smiled; to Neville, lunch with Snape might as well have been a duel with the man and Harry knew the professor was well aware of that fact. No matter what happened in a single class, there was no way Snape could erase five years of torment that quickly.

Monday night saw his first real class with Snape as a defense teacher and he was probably more nervous than any other potions class he'd ever gone to. Unlike his normal classes, while tutoring he handed in all his essays as he completed them and was beyond amazed to see his defense essay come back with an E - a mark he has never received from this professor before.

"You did exceptionally well on the assignment, especially considering we did not have a formal lesson on it last week," Snape told him as he led them both towards his office and not the sitting room. They had just finished dinner together since the professor was exempt from meals in the Great Hall on his chemotherapy days.

"Thank you sir," Harry said, slowing down as he approached the doorway he swore he'd never enter, even though Snape said he could with him present.

"Are you coming or do you plan to discuss this through the doorway?"

Harry was now a good two meters away from the office and Snape was already to the desk inside impatiently waiting for the Gryffindor to enter.

"We're having our lesson in your office?" Harry asked, trying to keep the fear from his voice. It may not have been the same office, but the last time he was in one of Snape's offices was the pensieve incident and he really didn't want a repeat of that.

"Yes we are," the professor beckoned the Gryffindor with his hand to show Harry his explicit permission to enter, "I think you need a change of scenery."

"Oh," the Gryffindor replied lightly raising his eyebrows in surprise, "in that case..."

Harry walked tentatively into Snape's personal office for the first time and was surprised to see how comfortable it was. Three of the walls had bookcases from the floor to ceiling, with the only bare wall to the left, behind his large desk. There was a door directly in front of him when he entered which Harry naturally assumed went to the professor's potions laboratory - a place he was guaranteed never to see. Unlike his very tidy quarters, Snape's office had piles of parchment and books on the desk and across the shelves in the bookcases almost at random. Harry couldn't help but catch a glimpse at the large stack of muggle and wizarding medical books front and center on the desk as if Snape used those the most - a thought that gave Harry that warm feeling inside of him.

Picking up on Harry's discomfort, Snape pulled out one of the chairs in front of the desk for the Gryffindor as he sat along the front edge, a casual position he would never show to another student.

"I thought we'd simply talk about your essay tonight," Snape said and Harry reached down into his bag to pull out the referenced assignment. It had, by far, the least amount of red ink he'd ever received from Snape. "You wrote a lot about the benefits to using nonverbal spells, but had very little use of textual support."

Harry almost laughed, yet again, that the professor told him the same thing Hermione always started with when critiquing his essays. At this point, he should know to add more references from his textbook and yet he still never remembered to.

Given that this was the most active chemo day Harry had ever had, he was completely exhausted and therefore thrilled when he found out this was the only part of the night's lesson. By the time he made it to bed Monday, he didn't think he would have any trouble sleeping - he was practically falling asleep in Snape's office - but once he got to his room his mind was racing. He'd told Neville everything and even if he trusted his friend not to tell anyone, it still left him feeling vulnerable and reminded the young wizard that at some point he would have to go back to classes and then he wouldn't be able to hide the truth anymore. He couldn't tell if it was the chemo or his nerves, but he ended up in the loo most of the night unaware that he had warded the door with a silencing charm that would be impossible for even Dumbledore to break, nor that small specks of black were coming out each time he vomited.

* * *

As if Tuesday's weren't bad enough with Malfoy all day, Harry woke up with a small burning feeling throughout his stomach again. He didn't see Snape that morning as the professor had an early meeting, but he had left a note next to his morning medication saying that he would be back for lunch.

Malfoy arrived right on time and Mrs. Weasley showed him into the sitting room as she had done with Neville yesterday before retreating to the kitchen to give them privacy. Harry wasn't sure where things would pick up after the vision on Friday, but he was honestly too tired and in too much pain to argue with the Slytherin about it all. The blonde would get what's coming to him when Harry felt better by their Thursday defense class. Malfoy took one look at the lines coming from Harry's hand and port, and it quickly became clear they would not be getting much studying done - at least not without an inquisition first - which was stupid because this wasn't the first time Malfoy had seen him having chemo done.

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong with you?" Malfoy asked not even pulling a book from his school bag, acting like he had a right to know Harry's business.

"Very subtle Malfoy," the Gryffindor replied sarcastically. "I told you, it's none of your business."

"Well I happen to disagree," the Slytherin argued, confirming Harry's previous thought on the matter, "what if you're contagious? Like Dragon Pox?"

That was a stretch and the Slytherin knew it, they had been together loads of times and he never cared if Harry was contagious before.

"I'm not and you're just going to have to trust me," the feeling in Harry's stomach was worsening and he was having a difficult time concentrating. "Are we going to study at all?"

"After everything with your little defense group Potter," Malfoy sharply replied to which Harry gave him a dangerous glare, "I doubt you really need the theory we were supposed to go over today. Even Professor Snape was impressed with the level most of your members came in with."

Harry felt pride swell up inside him. The D.A. members were doing that well? So well in fact that Snape mentioned something about it? Maybe if Auror didn't work out, he should consider teaching.

"I told you, I'm sure Hermione has a book you can borrow."

"I asked her for the bloody book-," Harry couldn't hide his surprise even if he were able to concentrate completely, "- and she gave me this huge thing that even I can barely understand. You know all about my..."

Harry turned to see Mrs. Weasley starting to walk in from the kitchen, but Harry waved telling her they were alright. He really wanted Malfoy to finish his thought, but instead the blonde simply sneered at him leaving his sentence hanging.

"I know all about what Malfoy?" Harry prompted. He had told himself that he would let the vision go, but now he really wanted to turn the conversation around any way he could. "All about your _other job_?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about, so stay out of it," Malfoy's face paled slightly as if he were the one going to be sick. But Harry was never one to step down from a fight, no matter how awful he was physically feeling.

"You'd be surprised," the Gryffindor taunted with a face of disgust that was masking his own physical pain, "I saw everything that night. Your _master_ showed it all to me. That was so nice of him wasn't it?"

He shouldn't have done it, but misery loved company and Harry was feeling the worst since starting Chemotherapy, "I saw you bow down to him on the forest floor and kiss his robes like a common slave. I saw how you cowardly attacked a man who was too tired to move even if he hadn't been tied up... I saw you fail at the Killing Curse - twice. And was that fear in your eyes when you thought _Voldemort_ was going to kill you after the Cruciatus Curse?"

He smirked when Malfoy covered his left forearm at Harry's use of Voldemort's name. Harry intentionally used it knowing it would hurt Malfoy, however now that his angry steam had passed, he was ashamed of himself; that was something someone with less honor than him would do.

"Yeah..." Malfoy replied when Harry was finally done with his diatribe, "and I'm doing all of that for you and your side, so a little appreciation wouldn't be remiss."

Harry gave a grim laugh, "You're doing it to save yourself."

"And apparently that means aligning myself with someone who clearly has no idea what he's doing, can't do magic, and can't even leave the dungeons. What kind of message do you think that sends?" Malfoy's statement and question wasn't said in the anger Harry would have expected and without his normal malice. In the end, Harry knew the blonde was right; that unless he wanted to push Malfoy back to Voldemort, he needed to give in a little bit.

"Fine," Harry started knowing he would regret this the moment it left his mouth, but he was too tired to keep up whatever this was they were doing, "it's called Leukemia. Look it up because that's all I'm going to say. Can we get started now?"

That seemed to satisfy Malfoy because he nodded and pulled out his notes from their class with Snape yesterday. Unfortunately, Harry was having a hard time paying attention to the lesson and only five minutes in Harry grabbed his stomach and doubled over in pain.

_No, not now... Why now?!_

"Are you sure you're alright Potter? You look like you're about to pass out," Malfoy asked uncharacteristically nervously.

"I'm fine," Harry said, feeling the sweat falling down his forehead. He started taking deep breaths through the pain trying to switch positions on the sofa to ease the burning from inside, "I just need-" but before he could finish that response, he grabbed for the pail and started forcefully vomiting the small breakfast he'd managed to eat that morning.

"Merlin's beard Potter!" The blonde said standing up looking a bit nauseous himself like he'd never actually seen someone sick up in front of him before. "Let me go get Weasley's mum or Professor Snape."

Even if Harry wanted to refuse the help, he didn't hear Malfoy as his blood was whooshing through his ears, his heart rate was increasing, and he started to get light headed.

The next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes looking up at the ceiling from the sofa with Mrs. Weasley, Madam Pomfrey, and Healer Smithe over his head. They were talking, but he couldn't make out any of the words; they sounded as if they were underwater.

"What happened?" He mumbled in a whisper, trying to sit up on his elbows, but was too weak to stay that way.

"You passed out," he heard, but it wasn't any of the people above him - it was Malfoy kneeling next to him; the current bane of his existence. "Professor Snape is on his way."

_Great, just what I need. More people here._

"I'm-" Harry started but was interrupted when the door slammed open.

"Do not say you are fine," he heard Snape's baritone voice echoing through the quarters as he entered the room. "If you were fine, you would not have passed out." He had a hard emphasis on the last two words as if this was somehow Harry's fault.

"Ok I'm not fine!" Harry yelled grimacing through another wave of burning. He tried to hold back the tears, but to no avail, "I'm so tired of this... I just... I can't do this... I want this to stop. All of it. Whatever it takes, I don't care anymore."

Though no one said a word, Harry knew the conversations that they were all having in their heads. Giving up, the Gryffindor laid back on the sofa gave a small nod and let the healer and medi-witch run diagnostic scans, take blood through his port - which he knew would come back normal - and change out his IV of morphine.

"What happened before he passed out?" To Harry's great embarrassment, Healer Smithe was asking Malfoy who had gotten up to stand by Snape.

"We were working on the lesson, but he was having a hard time focusing-"

" _He_ is right here!" Harry interrupted loudly, trying again to sit up but still unable to. Mrs. Weasley was now kneeling down in front of him holding his hand, rubbing small circles along the top of it.

"Harry, we need you to stay laying down for now," the healer explained in a very serious, no-nonsense way, then turned back to the blonde Slytherin. "Continue please."

It was the first time Harry noticed how pale Malfoy looked, definitely more so than usual. He also had a fearful look upon his face that Harry had never seen on the arrogant boy before. If he didn't know Malfoy as well as he did, Harry would think the Slytherin was worried about him.

"As I was saying... He was having a hard time focusing and then doubled over like he was in pain," Malfoy's face softened a bit at that last part, "and then he started sicking up, which seemed to go on forever, and he passed out. That was when I got Mrs. Weasley."

Harry almost choked at the use of Ron's surname instead of Weasel or some other variant. Of course, given the vision he saw maybe it made more sense now. Whatever the reason, Malfoy hadn't elaborated or missed anything; no he'd gotten it all correct at least as much as Harry could remember.

"Harry, has anything changed at all?" Healer Smithe asked still not back to his bubbly self which Harry would have appreciated at that moment, "Anything different about pain or its location?"

"No sir," Harry said honestly, "still just the normal nausea and pain plus the burning in my stomach at times. That was today's problem."

Harry was vaguely aware of what his healer responded with or his IV getting adjusted when suddenly his eyes were heavy. Again, he was unable to determine if it was because of an increased dose of pain medication or his body just finally giving into the exhaustion.

~~~~SS~~~~

He shouldn't have been surprised when Draco came running into his third year class saying Harry had passed out. Something was bound to happen during a class period, however technically no one had known that Harry was on the school grounds and they definitely didn't know that Severus had anything to do with Harry's absence, which would now circulate around the school by lunchtime.

Last night Harry had, yet again, been oddly silent. Before turning in for the night, Severus had checked in on the young wizard and he was asleep in his bed, but then the professor had not heard any rustling throughout the night. Now he suspected that Harry had once again used a silencing charm unknowingly. His use of magic was starting to become so often Severus questioned how Harry hadn't realized he was doing any of it yet.

Once he'd made it back to his quarters, Madam Pomfrey and Alton were already present and working on trying to figure out if anything additional could be wrong with Harry. Even though this sounded like a bout of his magical core fighting back, something that was happening at least once with each round, they needed to check that it wasn't any other strange side effect or a secondary illness.

"Professor Snape," Draco asked once Alton had finished getting Draco's recounting of the morning and they were both standing out of the way, "Is he dying?"

The question was so blunt and unexpected that his body went cold. He could feel the grief blanket over him again as flashbacks to his son's last couple of days flooded his mind. Dying... No, Harry can't die; Severus wouldn't allow that to happen this time.

Once he was able to get control of his emotions, he could see how upset his young Slytherin was by all of this. At the end of the day, Draco may have been an arrogant bully most of his life, but he was still only a 16 year old teenager and was clearly shaken up by what he had seen.

"No, Draco, we're doing everything we can not to let that happen," Severus finally answered. "You need to Occlude everything you saw today; the Dark Lord cannot know about Mr. Potter's condition if he does not already know."

"You're not going to tell me are you?" Draco folded his arms across his chest defiantly.

"I cannot say a word without Harry's approval," he hoped Draco would leave it at that, but was not so lucky.

"Why won't anyone tell me anything?!" He asked rhetorically, turning around and kicking violently at nothing into the air.

"Drop it Draco. There are more important things for you to focus on," making a split second decision about how to best distract the teenager, he asked, "How is everything within the house?"

If Draco was suspicious of the change in topic, he didn't say a word.

"Crabbe and Goyle think I'm the luckiest bloke in all of Hogwarts; they keep asking to see _it_ everyday," the new spy reported with disgust written all over his face, "honestly, they're a lost cause, what else do they really have after this place besides joining the Death Eaters?

"I think Nott can be persuaded, he's been paying an awful lot of attention to me and I think he's hoping to find a way out. Zambini... I haven't been able to figure out either way yet, but that doesn't surprise me too much about him."

Severus knew this year would bring challenges with his new loyalty known to the Death Eaters and their children, but he had hoped he would have at least a handful of students reach out to him for assistance. Unfortunately, his snakes have been silent thus far, however he also had not been the most available to them either, making Draco's mission more important than ever.

"Keep on trying to get through. The more we can prevent the next generation of Death Eaters, the better for our cause. You have a role to play now, do not forget how to act," the professor cautioned, inwardly hoping he could spare as many students as possible from falling into the same fate he had at their age.

* * *

Severus was in the sitting room cleaning up from that morning's events. He had informed the headmaster that he would not be able to finish his classes for the remainder of the day and tomorrow until after lunch. Harry was now asleep in his bedroom making it obvious that the young wizard had been up most of the night; confirming Severus's suspicion about his unknowing use of a silencing charm.

Bending down, he saw the pail that Harry used when vomiting sitting lopsided on the floor in front of the sofa and a muggle pen that appeared to roll underneath the sofa. Reaching down he moved the pail, uprighting it in the process to grab the pen, and that's when he saw it - streaks of black dripping down the sides of the pail. He tentatively bent to get a closer look, but when the first drop of black hit the bottom of the pail, as quickly as he saw it, the bucket self-cleaned and it was gone.

"Severus," the professor startled when he heard his name called from his floo; it was Alton firecalling, likely with Harry's latest test results. Severus immediately went and kneeled in front of his fireplace - his joints protesting giving way to how much older he felt.

"Well? Anything from the blood samples?"

"Unfortunately, everything looks normal on my end. His white cell count is a little lower than it was even this morning before his treatment, but with the next three days off, it should rebound enough to start the next round on Saturday. I'll just make sure to get a good reading before we start," His friend paused thoughtfully then asked, "Can I come through?"

"Of course," Severus stood and backed up to allow Alton room to enter. He summoned the set of tea while he waited and poured both of them a cup.

"Ah, thank you," the healer said once he exited the floo and accepted the offered tea. He took a long sip in a manner that Severus took as a stalling technique. "I'd like to test the level of Harry's magic before we start his next round."

Severus could have guessed this was coming, but thought they would have had more time. If the burning pain was caused from his magical core depletion, it would be beneficial to know where he was in the depletion process and by starting to track his levels now they could estimate how much more he'd have to endure.

"Let's do it Friday," the professor said, "it will give him time to recover from today and he'll be at his strongest before we start this again."

"If it's ok, I'll arrange it with the headmaster to get copies of his previous year's aptitudes for comparison purposes," Alton offered to which Severus nodded. "At this point, I think it's best if it goes quickly. I don't know how much more he can take of days like today."

"He's doing magic," Severus said seemingly out of nowhere. "It's unintentional, non-verbal, wandless magic with a great deal of precision and control."

Severus hadn't planned on telling Alton about it until he had more concrete evidence, but the healer had to know as they started testing and recording his magical levels.

"It seems," Severus continued, "that directly before and after an episode like today, he gets more control and more powerful with this unknown magic. I have no solid proof, but I know it's happening."

Alton took another long sip of his tea before answering, "It's not uncommon for caregivers to see things differently than they really are, especially when things are starting to look down," he paused meeting Severus in his onyx, pleading eyes, "they tend to read more into the smaller details or even think they see things that simply are not there."

Severus peered down at the small tea cup he was holding. He wasn't making this up or seeing what he wanted to see. It was true that he may not be the most objective when it came to Harry anymore, but he knew what he was experiencing was important.

"I think you should consider a mind healer, for the both of you," Alton continued when Severus remained silent.

"Don't go there Alton," Severus warned.

"Hear me out," the healer pleaded, "you mentioned before that Harry talked about how during the worst pain he wanted to give up and from what I heard of him today, he's getting worn down from it all. As we get rid of the cancer and that pain gets better, this pain from his magical core will likely only get worse. Who knows how his magic will react to the next phase or the one after that. He has three years of this Severus, that's a long time to be pushed to your limits. And then what about when his magic is gone? It's a lot to take in for anyone.

"Harry is in a very difficult position and that's for _any_ typical 16-year old facing this battle and we both know that young man is far from typical. Suicide rates are more than four times higher in cancer patients, most of which is within the first year of being diagnosed. While I don't _think_ he's there yet, some people hide it well," the healer hated having this conversation especially when someone he personally knew. "There is only so much you can do Severus and I would hate for you to come this far only to lose him to himself; to something that could have been prevented."

Alton was right, but the same circumstances that made Harry not a typical teenager or a typical cancer patient would also prevent him from getting the help he may need. This was another concern added to his ever growing list of things to figure out.

"Thank you for your honesty," he eventually said, "I'll take it under consideration."

* * *

The defense professor found himself back in his personal office late that night. He was once again sifting through the dozens of books on his desk knowing there had to be a connection to everything going on around Harry, but still unclear what that connection could possibly be. The conversation with Harry earlier this week brought about a new line of research - what could the Dark Lord have that is protecting him from the Leukemia, at least for now? Considering the extensive knowledge Severus had in the Dark Arts, he should have been able to identify, relatively quickly, any rituals or dark magic that could have been used, and yet he had nothing.

On a whim, earlier that day he'd gone to check the only other personal library he had access to that might contain some knowledge on the dark arts beyond his own - the Black library at Grimmauld Place. It was there he found the large, black, leather bound book - _Secrets of the Darkest Arts By: Owle Bullock_ \- he was reading through tonight in hopes of finding some answers. His stomach clenched tight and his body was filled with dread when he came across a word he had never heard before, Horcrux:

_A Horcrux is an object in which a dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul in order to become immortal..._

The defense professor's breath hitched as his mind flashed to a conversation from his old reality he'd been part of in Harry's second year. That was the year they discovered he was a Parselmouth; the year of the damn Basilisk - which he'd at least been there with Harry in his old reality instead of the 12-year old battling the thing all alone in this one. However, because he was Harry's guardian, he had been with Harry when Albus explained that he could speak Parseltongue because Voldemort could speak Parseltongue.

"Damnit!"

His brain was working in overdrive putting everything together at an unbelievable pace, even for him. He flung open the door to his office and hurried to the floo to call Albus.

"You need to come through," he said urgently into the fire when he saw Albus sitting at his desk, "right now."

Standing back, he allowed the Headmaster to exit the floo not hiding his confusion. Even at almost midnight, the elder wizard was dressed in bright yellow robes that were almost blinding.

"I take it you've found something Severus?" The Headmaster asked his professor.

"What do you know about Horcruxes?" Severus handed the book he was reading to the headmaster all the while pacing across the room.

Albus's eyes grew with understanding as he read through the passage and came to his own conclusions.

"I had briefly considered the idea that Tom would have created horcruxes, however besides the diary there was no further evidence to support such a claim," Albus met his professor's eyes daring him to continue on his train of thinking.

"You said Harry could speak Parseltongue because the Dark Lord can," Severus casually explained, still pacing.

"I do recall that conversation, however I also believe you were not present during it," Albus challenged.

"In my other reality, I was there. I went down to the chamber with Harry and heard your explanation afterwards."

"What are the implications of such a thing?" Albus asked, taking a seat on the sofa.

"It's unprecedented, but if I were a gambling man I would bet that having a piece of such a dark soul working against Harry's naturally purer one would have an affect on his magical ability to fight off the Leukemia," saying that out loud felt like a piece of the puzzle fitting perfectly in place; he had no proof of any of it and there was nothing they could really do with the information, but it all felt too right to be incorrect.

"As you said, this is unprecedented so that's just as likely as anything else," Albus replied sadly. "If Harry is a Horcrux, I suspect it was unintentionally created?"

"Absolutely. If the Dark Lord knew about, he would not actively be trying to kill Harry; he'd want to protect him instead... Which means this needs to stay between us," Severus said in a dark tone reminding both men that while they may be closer to unlocking one mystery, uncovering the leak within their own circle was becoming more important by the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next: A Hurdle in the Road


	30. A Hurdle in the Road

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry woke up Wednesday morning feeling his head pounding with each beat of his heart and his chest feeling like a hippogriff was sitting on it; obviously yesterday had taken far more out of him than normal. He was cold down into his core and was shivering almost uncontrollably, so he grabbed his blanket - which he hadn't noticed was warmer than usual - to take with him into the kitchen. Almost instantly, his shivering ceased.

The enchanted window showed it was bright and sunny outside and again Harry questioned when the next time he'd be able to go out and get some fresh air. Maybe he could convince Snape to take him out for just a couple of minutes this morning since neither of them had classes; he could hide under his invisibility cloak so no one would know he was even there. Realistically, Harry knew there was zero chance of that happening, but he still thought one day he should get the courage to at least ask. Snape decided last night that he needed today to rest, so he had preemptively cancelled Harry's transfiguration and charms lessons with Hermione; two less things for him to try to focus on today. The last thing Harry wanted was to be alone, so he was hoping Hermione would still show up to at least spend some time with him, maybe even Ron could come too.

"G'Morning Severus," Harry quietly greeted as he slowly walked into the kitchen. Sitting down carefully at the table, he rested his head on top of his arms like a pillow. Even after sleeping most of the day yesterday he was completely exhausted this morning.

"I'd like you to spend today in bed," the professor stated in a matter of fact tone as he casually ate his own breakfast, keeping a keen eye on the young wizard. "You need to rest after everything yesterday. I also do not think you should attempt school lessons on your chemotherapy days going forward, these last two days were too much for you."

Harry wanted to mention that skipping one day to recover from the two days of lessons still gave him one extra day to try not to fall behind, but in the end he simply glared at Snape not ready for a lecture feeling how he did that morning. The professor didn't comment on the look, just placed the Gryffindor's morning medications down next to his bowl of porridge.

"Can Hermione still come over even if it's not for lessons?" Harry tried not to sound too hopeful, but with his pounding head he couldn't really tell how he sounded.

Snape peered over the table at Harry narrowing his eyes in thought, "As long as whatever you do constitutes as rest. I'm serious Harry, your body needs time to replenish its strength before Saturday."

"Oh," Harry half smiled, half smirked, "In that case, I'll have to let her know to cancel the triathlon then. I thought I'd feel jubilant today."

Harry could tell Snape wanted to laugh, but was trying to be his normal stoic self at the same time. It still amazed the Gryffindor, more often than not, that he could be so casual with the professor he hated only a little more than three months ago. Except, that wasn't exactly true; he wasn't the same man. It was as if the old Severus Snape, Potions Master, just stopped existing and this new Severus Snape took his place. Harry could handle this one; in fact he kind of liked and respected the man.

"I spoke to Alton last night," the professor continued choosing to ignore Harry's awful attempt at a joke, "he would like to test the level of your magic before your next round of chemotherapy. If it is no different to you, I suggested Friday. You'll likely have weekly tests going forward." _Until your magic is gone_ was left unsaid between them.

Harry dropped his spoon in both surprise and frustration while silently thanking Snape for being here to do things like talk to his healer on his behalf, it would be overwhelming to be doing this literally all alone.

"I figured that was coming; with the whole... magical core thing," Harry started, unable to look Snape in the eyes for fear he would do something like cry. "I don't know if I want it to just hurry up and deplete so I only have the normal pain or slow down in hopes that I can keep some magic, even though it will make the next several years unbearable."

"The best thing you can do," Snape said insightfully, "is to try not to think too hard about it either way. Whatever happens will happen and unfortunately, there is not much else you can do to prevent it."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek refraining from mentioning that it was ironic to hear this sentiment from the man who took a random potion to try to time travel back to change something that happened in his old reality. Overall it worked out, Harry was still alive and hopefully would make it through this time, but the irony of the situation was not lost on the Gryffindor boy.

"Fine," Harry settled on, not sure his opinion mattered in the long run anyway. "Just let me know when and where. If nothing else, it will feel good to use my wand again."

_There... That was my positive thinking for the day._

* * *

"Are you sure you're feeling alright Harry?" Hermione asked for what felt the hundredth time noticing Harry looking more worn out than usual. Hermione reached out her hand to him, as if to feel Harry's head for a fever, but the young wizard swatted her hand away before she could touch him. "You're just not looking so well today."

Since Harry wasn't having formal class lessons, Hermione stopped by only during her afternoon session as Snape had taken the morning off classes and was here with him. Harry had spent the day in his room, as requested, sleeping on and off until Hermione showed up. Still exhausted, but not wanting to sleep anymore, he was now in the sitting room attempting to sketch while Hermione studied and finished up her homework.

"I'm fine Hermione," the Gryffindor boy said a little grumpy, "just tired after yesterday and tired of people asking me if I'm ok."

"I should go then, so you can rest," she sounded sad and started to pack up her school books, frustrating Harry that everyone thought he was too fragile to be around. Did they not think that he could feel a little tired, but at the same time still want to be around other people?

" 'Mione, I don't think I could rest anymore than I already am. It's fine... I'm fine," Harry tried to reassure her, but in the back of his mind he felt something was off.

"I doubt that," his friend said as she laid out all of her work yet again and they fell into a companionable silence.

Only about ten minutes into their work, Harry tapped his notebook impatiently with the muggle pencil as he contemplated if he should ask the question he'd been avoiding since she walked into the room. Malfoy had mentioned yesterday that he had borrowed a book from Hermione and it had been nagging at the back of his mind since. Did the snake really ask Hermione - of all people - for help? Why would he care that much to do something so bold for him?

"Malfoy was here yesterday," Harry said, testing the waters to see if she'd pick up on his thoughts, all the while continuing his sketch as if nothing had changed.

"Of course he was Harry," the young witch said without even lifting her head from the book, "you had potions and defense yesterday."

Clenching his teeth, thinking again he decided just to go for it, "He told me about the book you lent him."

That got her attention immediately and Hermione looked at him without moving her head up. She just slowly lifted her eyes to meet his, daring him to continue; a move he commonly saw from Snape.

"So..." She started sounding a bit embarrassed, "he saw me reading through a muggle medical book in the library and asked if it had anything to do with you. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to make the connection."

Harry sat up feeling his insides protest in the process. He'd always felt at least a little better the day after chemo and subconsciously wondered why today was so different.

"I highly doubt he'll be able to find anything in it anyway," Hermione started talking extremely fast thinking Harry was angry with her about it, "it's full of muggle medical terminology like hematology, oncology, anesthesia, cardiology... he wouldn't even know where to start."

"Calm down 'Mione, it's fine," Harry placed his hand on her's to comfort her. He gave a small chuckle to show how little it bothered him. "He's going to find out at some point, I just wish I could have seen him ask you about it. I can only imagine the face he made."

"It was quite funny." Hermione gave a small giggle and Harry felt at ease again. "If Madam Pince wasn't around the corner, I think Ron might have had a fit over it. But what was I supposed to do? He didn't say anything rude or mean, just asked if he could borrow the book. Like I said, I doubt he'll find anything."

But Harry knew he would eventually find it because he had told Malfoy about the Leukemia. He knew Malfoy was smart enough to start there and work his way backwards; now it was only a matter of time before he told everyone in the school. Maybe if he was lucky enough, they would all know about it and be over it well before he started classes again at Halloween time.

~~~~SS~~~~

After returning from his afternoon classes, Severus noticed immediately that Harry had been quiet most of the day. His attention was brought back to the conversation he had with Alton yesterday about Harry's mental health. He may have been reading more into the situation than he normally would have had it not been for that conversation, but Harry seemed more withdrawn today than after any other chemotherapy day. He had hoped giving Harry the day to rest would eventually help him heal and he would be on the mend, but at supper tonight the Gryffindor hardly touched his plate or said a word to the professor. He had promptly gone back to his room and based on the three times Severus had checked in on him, he had been sleeping since.

Now that he had with the information on the potential - but highly probable - Horcrux within Harry, Severus spent his night back in his office with the sphere and a glass of firewhiskey going through as many books as he could on cancer, wizarding magical cores, and Horcruxes; the latter of which he could only find referenced in _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ that he showed Albus yesterday. Until he knew more about if, and how, all of this was connected he didn't want to tell Harry that they thought he had a piece of Voldemort's soul living within his own.

 _That would, without a doubt, push him over the edge_.

There was also the matter of killing the Horcrux to consider. After all, no matter how much it angered Severus to admit it, this had implications to the entire wizarding world if they were correct; meaning Voldemort could come back as he had after the first war should the Horcrux be left alive. No matter how many times he read through the book, all he was able to discern about killing a Horcrux was that the object containing the fragment of the soul had to be damaged beyond magical repair. In this case, that container would mean Harry.

Pacing his office he tried to find some way he could do it, but he could not manage to think of one way to damage Harry - he cringed at that thought - beyond magical repair without killing the young wizard. Downing the glass of firewhiskey, he abruptly ran his arm across the desk top; watching as all of his work went crashing to the floor. He pulled out the chair and forcibly sat himself down behind his desk cradling his head in his hands, trying to hold back the frustration and tears. No matter how hard he tried, his Occlumency was not helping to keep the panic at bay. Suddenly, if at all possible, this whole situation just got messier and far more urgent. If he was right, it was simple and yet something he could not fathom to consider -

_If the cancer doesn't kill Harry, someone else will have to in order for the Dark Lord to finally be killed._

He poured himself another glass of firewhiskey, quickly drinking it down to feel the warm liquid fill him up inside - but doing almost nothing to calm his anxious brain - when unexpectedly a piece of parchment appeared on his desk that read _Minerva McGonagall._ He really didn't want company tonight. Rubbing his forehead to try to ease the headache forming, he walked slowly out of his office and opened the door to admit his colleague.

"Good evening Severus," she said walking into the defense professor's quarters as if she visited all of the time, which almost seemed true at this point.

"Out for a stroll are you?" Severus asked sarcastically. "It's quite late for you to be randomly wandering in my part of the castle."

"Oh settle yourself down," Minerva said with a huff, "I covered two of your classes - a fourth year yesterday along with a first year this morning - and wanted to get these to you," she handed him a stack of rolled up essays; more marking that he probably wouldn't get to. Severus raised one eyebrow in response.

"How very thoughtful of you. Alternatively, you could have saved yourself the trip down here and simply left them at my desk," he replied, taking the stack waving her into the kitchen. "Since you are here, would you like some tea? Or perhaps something a little stronger?"

The older professor's eyes lit up as if she hadn't been expecting him to offer that exact thing, but Severus knew better; Minerva had a bit of Slytherin in her even if she'd never admit to it, "Tea would be lovely, thank you."

The two professors walked into the kitchen where Severus started preparing tea the muggle way; his typical stalling technique.

"Old habits die hard," he commented at Minerva's odd look to him preparing their tea.

"I wasn't going to say a thing, but since you brought it up... sometimes I forget you grew up in a muggle household," she had a twinkle in her eyes that he rarely saw on her normally stern face, giving Severus the impression she was thinking of Lily Evans and not Tobias Snape. The defense professor shook his head to clear that last thought from his overcrowded brain.

"Yes, well occasionally I'd like to forget that too," it was a bitter statement and something he should not have said, but it matched his current mood so he went with it.

Once the tea was made and poured, the dour professor spat, "Just get on with it; whatever it is you are here for."

"Believe it or not, I wanted to check in on how you're doing," she took a long sip of her tea to give him some time to process what she had said. "This has been a rough start to the year and not likely to get much easier."

No matter how many different ways Severus interpreted her statement, it all came out the same way... Complicated and his colleague didn't even know half of the things he was working through. If he were being honest, this was not at all how he envisioned things would be after taking the potion in his old reality. Never did he think that he'd be dealing with a Horcrux within Harry on top of everything else he had going on. It was true he got Harry back, but for how long? By coming back, had he damned himself into having to make the decision on if Harry should live? And here he had the Dark Lord to keep track of and Draco's involvement with the war, it was definitely a lot more than he ever expected. All he wanted was his son back; how did everything else get so messed up over something that seemed so straight forward?

"Perhaps teaching a new subject was a bit overenthusiastic to take on this year," Severus admitted, however he knew Potions would not have been any easier at the moment. What he needed was to get away; to take Harry, summon the Knight Bus and go into hiding. Harry would never do that though and neither could Severus; Harry needed the chemotherapy.

Minerva placed her tea cup down and looked over at the dark haired professor, not at all believing what he was implying. Clearly she was fishing for something more. As if he didn't already give every bit of himself to others.

"What else do you want from me?" He asked, getting angry, more with himself than Minerva, but he wasn't in his right mind to recognize this fact.

What _did she_ want from him? Did she want to hear he was feeling overwhelmed and exhausted? That he felt like he was failing in the one job he had left to do in this world? That he was starting to regret the life he literally chose to be in? That if he could, he would give up every breath he had as long as Harry could live a long life?

"Do you want to hear that I have no idea what I'm doing here?" Once he started questioning himself he couldn't stop. It was like all of this had been building since waking up in this reality only 12 weeks ago. All of his self doubt needed to come out and he couldn't control it anymore. "This isn't how it was supposed to go, dammit! I woke up expecting to be back in time - like a stronger version of that blasted time turner you provided a 13-year old to use - but instead I ended up here. I was _supposed_ to go to a time where I could convince _my son to_ choose the path that would ultimately save his life, but now not only do I not _really_ have my son, his life is in even more danger than before! I'm fighting a battle I cannot win. And yet I have to find a way to fix it... but I don't have the answers! No matter where I look, it's all the same and I can't do a single thing to change it."

At this point, Severus was standing, leaning over the table with his fists supporting his weight - his chair having crashed to the ground behind him - hanging his head contemplating his next move. When he spoke again, it was strained as he tried to keep himself, unsuccessfully, under control.

"I have Harry, Draco, and my entire house of students - whom I feel like I've barely seen - looking to me for answers and I don't have a damn clue on any of it. And I've already missed how many classes? That I'm sure any day now, Albus is going to walk in here and fire me as he should have done every. single. year!"

The transfiguration professor was shocked. She's never seen the man in front of her lose control before, or show any real emotion or weakness. He had always held up this wall to keep not only everyone else out, but himself safely in. It wasn't healthy for anyone to live life so closed up to the outside world, especially dealing with everything Severus was and she suspected his walls were now crumbling from the pressure. She couldn't help feeling guilty; she'd made a promise to herself to be here for both Severus and Harry, but had she held up her end of that promise?

"Be honest with me Severus," Minerva commanded trying to take some control over the situation, "have you been sleeping at all?"

"What do you think?!" He spat at her slamming his fist into the table top, "Of course I haven't!"

He paused and then suddenly threw his tea cup, shattering it against the far wall of the kitchen, not caring one bit that the tea was now puddling onto the floor. He was too angry with himself to think about anything else, too wrapped up in his thoughts to consider the person across from him, and too distracted to notice the fear in her eyes, "If I'm not in class, I'm either trying to find a way to stop the _literal burning reminder_ of the biggest mistake of my life - a mistake that in both worlds killed the only woman I've ever loved, but at the same time also gave me the best person in my life - Or I'm working with Draco to make sure he doesn't get himself killed for the supposed _greater good_ , or most likely I'm trying to find every damn piece of information ever written on magical cores and muggle diseases to see if I can find some way - _any way_ \- to help ease my son's pain, and then... and then... only to find out he's still probably going to die anyways!"

He was panting when he finished his rant and for a split second he felt better. For that split second his chest felt lighter than it had in a long time. Saying, or yelling, all of that out loud was exactly what he needed. The cathartic release of his deepest fears and worries now lifted off of him and he could almost think clearer than he had since before the Privet Drive attack-

But then he heard it and his heart and stomach sank to his feet... A rough, wet cough from the doorway behind him, followed closely by another. Instantly he looked up from the table directly into Minerva's sympathetic eyes and he knew. Severus closed his own and took a deep, calming breath, before turning around to confirm that he was right. Standing in the doorway leading into the kitchen was Harry, dressed in a pair of wrinkled blue flannel pyjamas as if he'd just been woken up - likely from Severus's yelling - and not even attempting to hide the hurt in his bright, glassy emerald eyes.

"Harry," he said standing up and walking towards the small teen who quickly took a step backwards. Harry's face was paler than normal and the professor couldn't tell if that was due to how he was physically feeling or because of the confession he had heard.

At first both of the professors expected the Gryffindor to turn and run towards his room, so they were surprised when in a raspy, quiet, sad voice he said, "It's good to know you think none of this is going to work; that I'm just going to die in the end."

"Oh, Harry no," Minerva called out but it was too late; Harry had turned around and walked - calmer than Severus would have expected from him to - back into his room slamming the door behind him.

"I swear to you, that was said out of context," Severus finally confessed. When it became evident Harry wasn't coming back out, he added, "I'll go check on him."

"No," Minerva patted his shoulder as she passed by him, "if it's ok with you, I'd like to try to talk to him first."

The younger professor nodded, sitting back down at the table hanging his head down rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

_What did I do? How could I be so stupid?_

It was true that he'd made his fair share of mistakes with Harry - in both realities - but this had to be the worst. Nothing could, or would, ever top telling Harry he thought he would die regardless of what they're doing; that all of his suffering would be for nothing. In that moment Severus vowed that even if Harry never spoke to him again, he would find a way to kill the Horcrux without harming the young wizard. He'd make a way if nothing existed.

"I'm afraid he's locked his door," Minerva declared as she shuffled back into the kitchen in a huff, "I even tried from the lavatory, which by the way does not even lock from his bedroom's side."

"I know," the defense professor said almost too serenely. After Harry's burning pain yesterday, he had expected the Gryffindor's unintentional magic to be at its strongest point today. No matter what Alton thought, he was not making it up or exaggerating Harry's magic use.

"What do you mean, _you know_?" Minerva was sounding panicked, something that would have been frightening if he was still her pupil.

"He's been doing magic unintentionally and it's usually strongest on the day after he has the burning pain like yesterday," he could tell she wasn't following him. "He probably placed a silencing ward up too."

_Could this really get any worse?_

"And you did not think to mention this to Albus?" While it was an accusation, Minerva was genuinely curious about why he would hold back such information from them and what other information was he still withholding?

"You should go," Severus said defeated, completely ignoring her question and stopping her protests before she could even start. He stood and pulled out his wand to clean up the shattered teacup and spilled tea. "Could you please let Albus know I may not be in at least my first class tomorrow? I don't think I should leave him alone under these circumstances."

"Don't worry about Severus," the elderly witch said when she realized what he was implying, "my first class tomorrow is reviewing for a quiz they don't know they're getting on Friday. I can find someone to cover for it much easier than you could."

"Thank you Minerva," he simply said knowing he didn't deserve her kindness; especially after everything tonight.

Once Minerva quietly, but reluctantly, left to go back to her quarters - using the floo this time - Severus finished tidying the kitchen and sitting room. He considered going back to his office to work, but Minerva's concern weighed heavily on his mind.

_(Have you been sleeping at all?)_

Technically yes, he had been sleeping, though admittedly it was far less now that term had resumed. However, that was no excuse for how he acted both towards his colleague and Harry. He decided to walk away from his office and simply head to bed at the respectable hour of eleven o'clock.

It was worth a try to see if Harry's door would open, but as expected it was warded shut. Harry had been sleeping most of the day, so it was hard to tell if the silence was due to him sleeping or a silencing charm. Either way, he had to make sure Harry was safe before he could go to bed, so he did the one thing he'd been trying to avoid.

"Dobby!" He called for the annoying little house elf he knew was completely loyal to Harry.

Instantly the small elf popped up wearing a set of mismatched socks and a cap.

"Mister Snape has called for Dobby sir?" He was wringing his hands tightly, nervous to be around the dark professor who never called for any of the house elves.

"Dobby," Severus said softly, "I need you to check on Harry for me. He's in this room and the door is warded shut. He should be sleeping, but I'd like to be sure."

Dobby put his large ear against the door as if he'd be able to hear if Harry was indeed sleeping.

"Dobby knows Mister Snape takes good care of Harry Potter sir," the small elf rambled, "Dobby will go check that Harry Potter is sleeping sir."

And with a small pop, the house elf disappeared. Realistically he was gone less than a minute, but to the professor it felt like hours before he heard the pop again.

"He is sleeping sir," Dobby said excitedly as if he were beyond thrilled to have done this one simple, but important, job.

"Thank you Dobby," Severus said, releasing the breath he was holding. "That is all."

* * *

Severus had doubted he would be able to sleep that night, however the exhaustion from the day combined with his explosive reaction tonight had eventually caught up to him and he found himself asleep - restlessly, but asleep - when an unfamiliar sound from the sphere woke him up. Usually, the sphere would buzz and glow, alerting him to whatever Harry needed. Now he had just been woken up from an audible alarm coming from the sphere beside his bed. As this was not originally how the sphere was supposed to function, he was briefly confused why he was getting woken up at half past three in the morning.

Once he realized it was Harry, he pulled himself out of bed quickly - not even pausing to put anything on his bare feet - and made his way to the Gryffindor's bedroom. He was surprised to find the door now able to be opened freely and he held his breath in anticipation of what he would find when entering the bedroom.

What he didn't expect to see was a quiet room, illuminated only by the sphere on the bedside table glowing a bright red, with Harry still asleep in his bed. Severus furrowed his brows in confusion as he moved into the room silently, so he didn't wake the sleeping teenager, and approached the bedside table. The sphere was on the far end, out of Harry's immediate reach. It certainly was not the best location for it, however seeing as Harry typically did not need to use it this long after chemotherapy, it did not draw any concern from Severus. For all he knew, this was where Harry always kept it on non-chemotherapy nights; he had never paid that close of attention to its location previously.

Severus picked up the sphere, which was so hot to the touch he immediately dropped it and clutched his burnt fingers as he watched his only light source roll towards the bed. Naturally, he assumed it was malfunctioning because again the sphere was not charmed to emit any heat. Redoing the charms on it would be easy enough to do and he made the quick decision that it could wait until the morning since it was not likely Harry would need the sphere within the next 4 hours.

Severus ran his hand over his face contemplating if it was even worthwhile to try to go back to sleep and had just turned around to walk away when he heard it again... that same rough, wet cough from the earlier tonight in the kitchen. This time though, when he turned back towards the bed Harry was still asleep. He knew he wouldn't be wrong - but that didn't stop him from hoping he was - when he reached over the bed and lightly touched Harry's forehead which he could now see was covered in a layer of sweat. Harry had a fever; a high one by the feel of it. Summoning his wand, he quickly ran a diagnostic spell, which showed his temperature at 39.4C.

"Dammit!" He cursed loudly bending down to shake Harry awake. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, the Gryffindor simply moaned, but stayed unconscious. Drawing his wand for the second time, he sent an emergency patronus message to Madam Pomfrey requesting her help in his quarters and to contact Alton.

While he waited, the professor did the only thing he could think of, he summoned his set of potions that he knew he could not give yet and a cool wet flannel that he draped over Harry's forehead.

"Severus," he lifted his head when he heard Poppy call from the doorway. "Healer Smithe should be here soon. What happened?"

"He has a fever and a cough," he replied bleakly. "He had it earlier, but I wasn't paying enough attention at the time and now he won't wake up."

If he hadn't been ranting, he would have been clear headed when he heard the cough. Thinking back now, it was so clear that it wasn't an interruption cough, but a sick cough and after Harry had been sleeping all day, it should have been a clear sign he was ill.

"Unfortunately it's that time of year with back to school colds. I've given out over two dozen pepper-ups already," the medi-witch said while running a wide range of diagnostic scans when Healer Smithe walked in followed shortly by Minerva, in a modest dressing gown, and Albus who appeared as if he had not been asleep at all that night.

Alton, who barely greeted them, went straight to work alongside Poppy taking blood samples, running diagnostic charms, and adding IV lines to provide medicine and other fluids that would hopefully help his child. He stood back and was reminded of the events after the Privet Drive attack; somehow he was more scared now than he had been back then. Eventually Minerva conjured several chairs for them knowing it was not only going to be a long night, but that there was no way the professor was leaving that room. After what felt like hours, no matter what they did or what they tried, Harry was still unconscious.

"Severus," Poppy called expectantly, "can we use magic?"

"Yes," he said without any hesitation, "do whatever you need to do, magic be damned, just keep him alive."

That seemed to give the medi-witch an extra boost as she waved her wand over Harry several times. Unfortunately, Harry still stayed unconscious. Albus joined the two healers at his bedside discussing something the frantic defense professor could not hear.

"Severus," Minerva called out to him, pulling at his elbow, when she could see the severity of the situation, "let's go and give them some room to work."

He wouldn't be able to tell anyone how he'd managed it, but somehow he was in the sitting room with Minerva in the chair across from him. So much had happened since the day he first stepped foot in _this reality's_ sitting room; without the furniture he remembered seeing his Harry on, without the pictures surrounding him of the life they had lived together, without the adoption certificate as a reminder that good things can come from ashes of the bad, and without the last letter from Harry that he had read everyday Harry had been gone.

Here he didn't have anything besides his memories of that old life, however now when he looked around he could see the room in a new light. There was the new sofa that this Harry had taken up as his own, there was the defense book on the table that his old Harry had no reason to read, the homework scattered reminding Severus why he was here to begin with - that Harry could not go to classes. The professor cradled his head in his hands yet again. No matter what he thought earlier, he did not regret coming here. How could he when he's gotten to know a whole different Harry - not a better Harry, nor a worse Harry - just a different version of him; one he loved just as much.

_And now he is..._

"I should have known," Severus eventually said to the only other person who would come close to understanding; she was there tonight, "I heard that cough and didn't think twice, even after Alton said his blood counts were low yesterday. I should have known."

"Don't go down that path," the elderly witch lectured her colleague reminiscent of a conversation he'd had with Harry. "There was a lot going on tonight when all of that happened. I was right next to you, and it didn't cross my mind either that he was ill. You need to give yourself some flexibility Severus, you are human after all. Forgive yourself. "

The defense professor steepled his fingers in concentration; it wasn't her job to protect the teenager - it was his and right now he would give anything to change places with him.

Neither professor said a word as they waited in the sitting room to hear any news about how Harry was doing. They sat still for so long that Severus's neck and back were sore, but he dared not to move. Eventually, the first golden rays of the sun rising through the sky could be seen across the stone walls, but the two occupants of the room hardly noticed.

"I don't know what to do," Severus said, his voice cracking from lack of use and fear. He lowered his head to hide the tears that started to well up into his eyes and fall down his cheeks.

"This is just a hurdle in the long road Severus," Minerva said in a soft, sympathetic voice, "you'll both get through this as you always do."

_She cannot know that._

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_It was mid October and time for one of Harry's bimonthly check ups to see how the potions were doing at clearing the Leukemia. August's check up showed a slight decline in the Leukemia cells, so they chose to stay on course and were hoping today's tests would show a more significant decrease._

_Harry had Quidditch practice that morning, so they were not due at St. Mungo's until two o'clock in the afternoon. Harry was always sore after the bone marrow biopsy that was done to check his progress and, as the Quidditch Captain, he arranged for an early practice to accommodate. Severus was relieved with the later schedule because it gave him time to catch up with an old friend, Alton Smithe._

_"Why do I have a feeling this isn't a social call?" Alton said warily as he came through the floo. Living in the muggle world meant he had to arrange for floo travel ahead of time, which is exactly what Severus did for this occasion._

_"Maybe because I am not a social person?" Severus replied only half joking._

_The healer laughed while accepting the cup of tea Severus offered and taking a sip, "So what's the emergency?"_

_"No emergency," the Potions Master explained, "I just like to be prepared and I'd like your professional opinion on the matter."_

_He handed over a stack of parchment to his friend containing all of Harry's medical tests and potions regimens to date._

_"Harry has a check up test this afternoon and the last one wasn't bad, but it also wasn't where I'd hoped we would have been at that point," he leaned over placing his elbows on his knees. He took a deep breath and asked the question that had been plaguing his mind all week, "If today's shows no decline in cancer cells, do you think Harry would still be a good candidate for chemotherapy?"_

_Alton placed down his cup of tea and lowered his brows in concentration. When Harry was diagnosed with Leukemia earlier this year, Severus had contacted Alton about the muggle chemotherapy option, but in the end Harry flat out refused because it would start to erase his magical core, so they had gone with a full magical Healer to oversee his potions regimen. Cancer was so rare in the wizarding community that there wasn't enough research done to know if the potions would cure it, which is why Severus stayed in close contact with Alton throughout the whole process._

_"I'm going to be honest Severus," Alton said, "it would be a difficult process at this point. While the potions have been more effective than I would have expected, to get the Leukemia low enough we'd need to be extremely to be aggressive and start quickly. He'd likely need to be admitted at least for the start of treatment._

_"If it were an option I'd suggest a bone marrow transplant, however the best matches are siblings or biological parents, which he - unfortunately - does not have. We can try the registry, but there has been almost no research done on the effects of using full muggle marrow in a complete transplant for a wizard. Who knows what kind of reaction he could have?"_

_Severus thought hard about what that meant for today's appointment; if things were looking good, then they could continue on the same path. Yet, if the cell count was climbing, he needed to act quickly to start Harry on the chemotherapy._

_"If I let you know tonight," Severus asked, his voice full of desperation, "when can you get him started?"_

_"We could admit him as early as tomorrow morning to do the couple extra tests the chemotherapy requires and we could start treatment first thing Monday morning. You should plan on him staying in the hospital for as long as 8 weeks, depending on how treatment progresses."_

_Severus nodded in agreement. Now he at least had a contingency plan should the news today be bad. He would somehow need to get Harry onboard with it though._

_"How's Mary doing?" Severus asked, hoping to distract himself until it was time to go to St. Mungo's._

_"Stop bouncing like that," Severus told Harry who was bouncing his left foot on the floor while they were waiting to hear the results of the bone marrow biopsy._

_"I hate the biopsies," Harry complained, rubbing his back as if to make a point._

_"Unfortunately, there is no magical way to test the bone marrow," the Potions Master said slowly as he placed his hand over Harry's left knee to hold it down. "Sit. Still."_

_It was only another five minutes until the Healer walked into the room and immediately Severus knew it was bad news. Their healer, a middle aged woman named Nadine Walker, pulled over a stool and sat down across from Severus and Harry._

_"I'm so sorry to say," Healer Walker started pulling out a piece of parchment with Harry's results, "the Leukemia has increased significantly since August's test."_

_Severus felt his heart drop to his stomach at the same time Harry's head fell into his hands._

_"But I'm feeling good," Harry said sadly._

_"Yes," Healer Walker turned to Harry, "the potions you're taking will help alleviate the side effects of the cancer itself which is why you're not experiencing the same symptoms from last May, but at this rate even those won't be enough."_

_Looking at his son, Severus could see him swiping at his eyes not wanting the two adults to know he was crying._

_"What do I do now?" The teen asked._

_"I have a list of recommended changes to your current potions, as well as two new ones," she said, handing the list to Severus._

_Exploring the list, it became evident that they were increasing the level to which Harry's magical core could help fight the cancer. While it wasn't enough to cause permanent magical signature loss, he would have a significant decrease in magical power while taking the potions._

_"I spoke to Alton-" he started but was immediately interrupted by Harry._

_"No," the Gryffindor said defiantly, "I'm not doing chemotherapy. I read about what it could do not only to my magic, but my body. It's like a poison! I won't be able to attend classes, play Quidditch, or do anything. If this is killing me, I'm not living whatever time I have left like that."_

_"Harry," Severus said calmly, "think about this for a minute. Alton says with an aggressive enough treatment, we still have a good chance of beating it. We had a few good months on the potions, but we have no way of knowing how well the next few months will go. It's too much of a risk."_

_"I'll give you both some time to discuss this," the healer said professionally. "Take your time and please stop by my office to let me know what you choose. Either way it needs to be fast."_

_"I'm not doing it," Harry stubbornly said once she had left. "And you can't make me."_

_"It's not worth it Harry," Severus tried to explain yet again. How could this child,_ **_HIS_ ** _child, not understand how precious his life was? Does he have no idea what would happen to Severus if he lost his son?_

_"I'm 16 years old Dad," Harry said, calming down knowing by now that arguing with Severus was not going to convince the man to see things his way, "if it came down to it, I'm close enough to an adult that they would let me choose."_

_Severus grimaced knowing he was right. If Harry were choosing not to treat the cancer at all, he would have more say, but this would simply just delay the treatment more than Harry had time for. Picking up the recommended changes and potion additions, he quickly validated their recommendations; it all added up and theoretically it **could** work._

_"Ok," he finally conceded. "I'll start making the changes tonight."_

_Harry stood up from his chair and gave Severus a big hug, something he did not do as often anymore; Harry always said he was getting too old for that stuff._

_"I wish it had been better news," he said into Severus's shoulder._

_"Me too Harry," he replied. "It's just a hurdle in the road and we'll get through it as we always do."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next: Now We Wait
> 
> Next update should be Monday
> 
> A/N: There is a reason Dobby or any other house elves (and Hagrid!) have not made an appearance until now... I've been avoiding having to write their awkward syntax, however I wrote myself into a corner because given what happened, Snape absolutely would not leave Harry alone in his room without at least knowing he was ok. I don't think I got Dobby's even close to correct, but it was either this or rewrite the last chapter.


	31. Now We Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_"It's dragons," Harry said, throwing himself onto the stool at the bench top where Severus was brewing; he was working on the antidotes for the next week's classes. No one seemed to recognize that the antidotes had to be brewed prior the classes they would be needed for and they always ended up being something most students took for granted until their eventual use._

_Much to Severus's displeasure, no matter how many loopholes he had searched for, he had not yet gotten Harry out of the Triwizard Tournament. He was still working towards that as their ultimate goal, but with the first task practically upon them, he had changed tactics and decided to help Harry expand his spell knowledge to prepare. However, if Dragons were the first task, he wasn't exactly sure if he'd been focusing on the right spells this whole time._

_"Are you certain it's dragons?" The Potions Master asked his 14-year old son trying to stay calm even though he was having a small panic attack inside. Who decided bloody dragons would be perfect for three 17 or 18 year olds and a 14 year old to battle?_

_"I'm pretty sure on this one Severus," Harry replied sarcastically, "even I can identify a dragon."_

_"I was merely checking," the professor placed a stasis over the cauldrons he was working on to give his full attention back to Harry. "Do you know what you'll be doing in the task?"_

_"I love how you don't even care how I found this out," the young wizard commented nonchalantly_ , _giving a small chuckle._

_"As the head of Slytherin, this should not surprise you in the slightest. It works in your benefit, so I hardly care how you went about getting the information; only that you now have it," it was absolutely true, though he guessed Hagrid had something to do with it only because Ron and Harry were still not speaking - especially after their muggle fight - so he doubted Charlie was involved._

_Harry rolled his eyes pulling a mortar and pestle that his guardian had set out in front of him to help with the antidotes. Now that Severus was spending his evenings training Harry, then his son had to help with his "office work"._

_"They're nesting mothers and we need to steal an egg from them," Harry shivered at the thought, and Severus questioned to himself if the Gryffindor was thinking about what his own mother did when her child's life was threatened. This would not be an easy task in the slightest._

_"Perhaps you can simply refuse to show up to the task," the professor said, knowing Harry would refuse_ ; _he was a Gryffindor after all._

_"Absolutely not!" Harry expectantly replied fiercely, "and let the rest of the school think I'm a coward? They already think I cheated to get into the tournament in the first place!"_

_"I'd rather them think you a coward than you getting yourself killed. You were aware students have died in this tournament correct?"_

_Meeting Severus's eyes, Harry nodded and said, "Yeah, I've heard that a couple of times actually."_

_Changing tactics, the professor started to think about all the different ways Harry could go about getting an egg from an angry mother dragon. He landed on only one that was both easy enough for a fourth year and played directly into Harry's strength - flying._

_"Alright," he said, picking up the mortar from in front of Harry, "tonight you start mastering_ _accio_."

_Severus was sitting in the stands of the converted Quidditch pitch waiting for Harry's turn to battle his dragon. He'd barely been able to eat all day with the nerves building up in his stomach and everyone had intelligently stayed out of his way - students and professors alike. Against all luck, his child ended up being the last to go and would be up against the fiercest dragon of the lot._

_When Harry walked out, Severus wanted to do nothing else besides jump onto the pitch and help him, but he was stuck here... watching... waiting... hoping the teenager would come out of this alive and unharmed; his stoic exterior was firmly in place to hide his nerves. Severus watched with the other spectators as Harry called for his Firebolt, something they'd planned the other day, and once it arrived Harry appeared much more comfortable with the task at hand. It was obvious when Harry quickly realized that the mother dragon was not going to simply leave her nest unprotected, so he adjusted his tactics and coaxed her away from the nest, then he swooped in to grab the egg. Unfortunately, Harry didn't make it out completely unharmed as his shoulder took a bad cut from the tail of the dragon early on in the battle._

_The crowd erupted in cheers once he finally landed safely on the ground. Severus stood and exited the stands making his way to meet Harry who was already surrounded by Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, and Sirius Black._

_"That was some great flying Kid," Sirius called out running - like a child - up to his Godson, ruffling Harry's always messy black hair, "Your dad would have been so proud of those maneuvers!"_

_"And Lily would have had a heart attack," Severus interrupted, approaching the group surrounding his son, "as I almost did."_

_Harry smiled, "Sorry Severus. I promise you that once I had my broom, I was in complete control at all times."_

_"Contrary to your belief, that does not make me feel much better," he replied examining Harry's injured shoulder as the Gryffindor winced in pain, "You'll have plenty of time to celebrate, but first you need Madam Pomfrey to have a look at this shoulder."_

_Harry turned towards Severus as if he were about to complain, but surprisingly Black interrupted him, "He's right Kid. Go get that cleaned up and then we'll get your score and celebrate. I bet you creamed the others!"_

_That made Harry smile even more and the Potions Master shook his head in defeat as he led the Gryffindor champion over to the first aid tent._

_"Were you really that scared watching me out there?" Harry asked once the medi-witch had gotten his shoulder mostly healed and they were getting ready to head back out to the stands._

_"Of course I was," Severus replied only half paying attention as there was some kind of commotion coming from outside of the tent, "I love you."_

_Time seemed to stand still between the father and son. While Severus had no doubt that Harry knew how he felt about him, it was the first time he had said those words out loud. There had been plenty of times he'd wanted to - like after the Basilisk in second year or the dementors last year - but never in his life had those words come naturally to him and given everything that Harry grew up with, the young wizard understood that. He was amazed now just how easily they were said in that moment; he hadn't even been thinking... simply reacting._

_Even more surprising than the words he said, was when Harry stood up before him, gave Severus a hug and just as naturally replied, "I love you too."_

_Before either could make another move Hermione and Ron came running into the tent surrounding Harry with details on how he had done as well as the other three champions. In that moment, Severus realized two things - the row between Harry and Ron had officially ended, and he was going to work twice as hard to get Harry out of this tournament before the second task._

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus had no idea how much time had passed, but it seemed like several more hours before Healer Smithe finally stepped into the sitting room where he and Minerva were still waiting. His friend's face was more grim than the professor wanted to see at that moment and immediately he knew this was going to be bad news. He ran his hands through his long black hair waiting to hear the inevitable.

"Harry is stable," the healer started, knowing from the times he's had to give bad news that stating the good first helped ease the anxious family, "The muggle medications take time to work, so we tried a fever reducing potion, which unfortunately, didn't last long enough to make any difference.

"He has what's called tachypnea - basically the medical term for having a hard time breathing - most likely due to pneumonia, but I won't know for sure until I get the samples back to the hospital for processing. Once we can identify what caused the pneumonia we can start a more targeted treatment against it."

Alton paused allowing his friend to take in what he had just been told. Severus hadn't looked up yet, but when he did, his onyx eyes showed pain deep into the depths of them.

"I've stared him on oxygen, to help his breathing, along with a stronger antibiotic than he normally takes, a medication to help increase his white blood cell counts, and fluids because he's a little dehydrated and we don't want that to get worse," Alton continued as the headmaster entered the room. "I think the best course of action is to admit him to the hospital where I work. His magical core is too taxed right now to handle any potions or anymore magical healing - likely due to his magical depletion - so St. Mungo's won't be much help. He needs supportive care at least until he can breathe regularly on his own and the fever is down below dangerous levels."

"He cannot leave Hogwarts," it was Albus who made this statement, not that Severus disagreed, it just was not his place to make it. "It is my understanding that you do not live within the wizarding world, but surely you are aware of whom your patient is?"

Alton looked insulted and furious, "Yes I am, but frankly I don't care one bit. I'm trying to save a child's life here."

"Then we are in agreement," Albus cryptically said narrowing his eyes, frustrating the healer even more, "taking Harry off the grounds at this time, to a muggle hospital no less, would most certainly kill him."

Healer Smithe huffed in annoyance, "I have to disagree, headmaster. Yes, there's a chance the Death Eaters will get to him at some point, but there's a greater chance of him dying from pneumonia complications right now. I cannot stay here around the clock, and even if it were feasible, it's definitely not advisable especially because he needs constant muggle medications. Severus, he needs to go to the hospital, and the sooner the better."

Severus's head was aching from the bickering. While he fully understood the healers' concerns, he also knew it wasn't possible to take Harry off of Hogwarts' grounds, especially with someone on their side feeding that type of information straight to the Dark Lord. He wouldn't last a day there.

"Alton," the defense professor said, standing to appear as if he had more control of himself than he felt he had, "Harry needs to stay here. I understand your concerns, but he won't make it outside of these wards right now. Between you, Poppy, and myself we will have to make it work."

"I'll compromise," the healer said after appearing to contemplate the situation a little more. His face made it clear to everyone in the room that he vehemently disagreed with them. "He can stay in the wards, but he has to go to the hospital wing. This way at least Madam Pomfrey will be right there should any emergency occur."

It was less than ideal, but the best he would get. The whole situation was sad that they needed to make a decision like this in the first place; that a teenage boy who was in desperate need of medical care he couldn't get all because he's being hunted down by a dark wizard for something that happened before he was two years old. Severus shook his head in disappointment, both with himself and his counterpart that used to be here; he had the chance to prevent Voldemort's return and he had failed at it.

"I can agree to that," Severus eventually conceded, still wary but it really was the best option in a bad situation. Worst case scenario in the hospital wing was that all of Hogwarts would likely know about it and it's only a matter of time before they find out about the cancer too. Losing some privacy was infinitely better than losing his life.

Minerva stood drawing the attention to her presence for the first time, "What does this do for his cancer treatment schedule?"

It was a good question, but one Severus did not need to ask after all the research he had done about chemotherapy. It would simply have to wait until he was healthy enough to continue. They would have to hope he would recover early enough not to be set back too far. The defense professor could only imagine what would happen if they had to restart from the beginning; he didn't think Harry had enough strength for that.

"We'll have to readjust once he's better. After the infection has cleared, I'll do another bone marrow biopsy to see if we've lost any time and then adjust the schedule as needed based on his cell counts and cancer level," Alton explained to the witch. "If we continue while he's sick his white blood cells will completely bottom out and he'll die from the infection. The best we can hope for now is that we can kill off the bacteria or virus causing the pneumonia quickly before we lose too much progress."

Minerva nodded her head, but didn't try to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. Severus had the urge to either throw something or fall to the floor himself. Somehow he'd managed to maintain his decorum in front of his current company.

"Can I see him?" The professor asked as the headmaster and healer were discussing the details.

Alton nodded slightly distracted by something Albus was telling him, "Madam Pomfrey is getting him ready to move to the hospital wing, but you'll be fine to go in there."

In almost a trance, he walked slowly through his sitting room and into the hallway where he peeked in through the cracked bedroom door. His heart sat heavy in his chest as he was reminded of Harry's last day in his old reality; when his son barely had enough energy to open his emerald green eyes and Severus didn't want to leave his side for even a second in case something happened while he wasn't there. Gently, more so then he'd been lately, he opened the door and walked in.

Harry was laying in his bed, covered in the soft green bedspread with several IV tubes running into his body, both through his port and into a separate IV in his arm. The oxygen that Alton mentioned was running through a different set of tubing into Harry's nose. He was flushed with the fever and appeared so small laying there underneath all the tubes, still completely unconscious, nothing like the bright, energetic Gryffindor he'd known so well. Madam Pomfrey was tutting around him using her wand to secure everything preparing to move him.

"How will he be moved?" It seemed like too simple of a question with everything else going on - like something he should not be focusing on - however he really didn't know what else to say.

"He cannot travel by floo," the matron explained, fussing about his bedroom, "so we'll be moving him through the corridors while the rest of the student body is in classes."

It was only Thursday. He should be getting ready for class; he had third years this morning and he was supposed to be introducing boggarts. Except classes were so far away from his mind as he pulled a chair over to Harry's bedside, making sure not to tangle it in any of the medical equipment.

As he set the chair down onto the floor, he saw a red glow coming from underneath the bed. Kneeling down - with the hard reminder from his body about how much older he felt than his 36 years - he reached out and grabbed the glowing red sphere; it was still burning hot. Using his wand, he levitated it up to the bedside table so he could examine it. The sphere was never originally spelled to alarm nor burn, but he now suspected it had to do with Harry's unintentional magic. Had it somehow reached out while he was unconscious to alert Severus of his potentially fatal illness? With Harry sick, they would not be testing his magic on Friday, however the professor was getting impatient for some answers about the Gryffindor's magical core levels and what it could mean for him going forward.

* * *

Severus spent most of the day at the hospital wing, in a chair he eventually transfigured into one more comfortable to sleep in, by Harry's bedside. This was where he was when Alton shook him awake right before suppertime.

"Good Evening Severus," the healer said, pulling out a wide variety of medications from his black bag as the professor, still waking himself up, stood next to him. "How's Harry been doing?"

"Aren't you supposed to be the one telling me that?" Severus narrowed his eyes at his friend. It had been a stressful week, starting with the vision on Friday, but he'd been a little frustrated with Alton's attitude lately overall.

"Of course," the healer gave a strained smile, he's had plenty of mourning parents to deal with in his days at the hospital, so this was nothing new to him, "I'm just asking if you noticed any changes since this morning. Has he been awake at all and if so, was he lucid? I can certainly pull all his stats with a diagnostic spell."

"I'm sorry Alton," he replied, feeling ashamed with himself. Severus ran his hand down his face and continued, "No there hasn't been much change today. He opened his eyes twice, but had no idea what was going on."

Those two times Harry had woken up, Severus took note of how glassy his emerald eyes were with the high fever and how confused he seemed. While the Gryffindor didn't say anything before falling back asleep, he was peering around the room having either no idea where he was nor how he had gotten there. Severus could imagine how scared the teen had to feel on top of feeling sick.

"I was able to confirm the pneumonia," Healer Smithe soberly explained as he swapped out bags from Harry's IV. Severus took note of the names so he could look them up later. "It's a type of strep that's very common and normally easily treatable, but given Harry's low immune system it took over very quickly. The antibiotic I'm starting now is targeted for this specific strep bacteria and should kill it off before too much other damage can be done."

That sounded far too foreboding for Severus's liking and he nervously asked, "What other complications could there be outside of this?"

"Well," Alton turned towards his friend and the professor knew he didn't want to go down this path. "If left untreated, it _could_ end up in his bloodstream and cause septicemia or in his brain and cause meningitis both of which have a wide range of effects I will not be going into. But we caught it relatively early, Severus, even if it doesn't seem like it to you."

"He's barely conscious," Severus pointed out getting angry with himself, "had I caught it earlier he would not be here."

He'd thought about this a lot throughout the day. It had been an oversight on his part; a very bad and potentially deadly oversight. He should have expected and been better prepared for it and now Harry was paying for his mistake. All it took was one student or professor to bring in the pathogen that caused Harry's pneumonia and while he had been exceedingly careful about Harry leaving, he had not considered the people coming _into_ his quarters for the last week and a half. Then there was Severus himself who was teaching all day and by the end of the week saw almost the entire student population at least twice. He was bound to pick up something and bring it back, unknowingly, into their quarters.

"Don't say that Severus; you're doing the best you can. If it makes you feel any better, during the most dangerous parts of chemotherapy - when a patient's blood cells can be at their lowest - most children are hospitalized as a precaution; going as far as full quarantine protocols if necessary. As we discussed this morning, unfortunately that was not an option for Harry," the healer explained sitting down in the other chair besides the professor. That did not make Severus feel any better, if anything it made him feel like if he could, he'd take Harry far away from here until the Dark Lord could be beaten for good. Unfortunately, Harry was too proud and too courageous for that; he'd never leave afraid.

"Is everything alright Alton?" The former spy asked thoughtfully noticing his friend staring off into the distance.

"Just tired," Alton yawned as he answered as if to prove his point and pressed his palms into his eyes, "even us healers feel the pressure sometimes too. Go get some dinner Severus, I've got an eye on him. He'll be alright while you're gone."

The professor turned back towards the bed at the small teen who wasn't going anywhere, and with the new antibiotics having just started there was no way they'd work before he got back. One of the most frustrating things about muggle medication was how slow it worked and it seemed even slower in a wizard, only that was probably just his impatience for wanting Harry to get better. Unable to find his voice, he simply nodded and stood up to leave - passing his wand across his robes to straighten out the wrinkles - as Madam Pomfrey walked in and ended up taking the seat he had just vacated. Harry was in good hands, and ultimately Severus knew he needed to at least make an appearance in the Great Hall for his Slytherins.

Leaving the hospital wing on his way to the Great Hall, the defense professor couldn't ignore the students' whispers and murmurs throughout the corridors. No matter how hard they had tried, keeping Harry's stay in the hospital wing a secret was nearly impossible and Severus was trying to overhear the conversations as he passed to find out just how much the student body knew.

"... heard he's staying with..."

"Can a wizard even..."

"... he can't even use magic anymore."

"...got something muggle..."

After the walk from the hospital wing to the Great Hall, Severus was beyond angry with the amount of gossip going around. How could people not respect the privacy of one of their fellow students? He didn't remember hearing so much going around about Ginny Weasley and she's still in the hospital wing recovering. Of course, Harry has always been the exception to every rule, something his counterpart had held against the Gryffindor instead of working to help him overcome it. For the second time that day, Severus was angry with the other man.

The professor tried to ignore the stares that were pointed directly at him as he walked into the Great Hall and took a seat next to where Minerva usually sat. The elderly witch was over at the Gryffindor table trying, unsuccessfully it seemed, to settle her lions; likely from the news about Harry. Minerva had called select students to her office this afternoon - primary Hermione, Ron, and Neville Longbottom - to tell them the news in person and Severus was grateful she had been the one to tell them. He feared if it had been left up to him, he would not have been able to do it as gracefully as she likely had.

It wasn't until he saw Pomona and Filius speaking to the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws respectively, that it even crossed his mind to talk to his Slytherins about it. While his snakes were just as likely to gossip among themselves, they were more likely to do it in the privacy of their common room than in classes or the corridors. He headed over to the table as swiftly and commanding as possible so as not to show them an ounce of the weakness he was feeling inside of himself.

Without any preamble, he called out towards the table, "I expect all of you to be in the common room immediately after dinner tonight for a brief house meeting. If somehow you have managed to get a detention in the first two weeks of term that was supposed to be served at this time, see me before the end of dinner and I will arrange for you to serve it on an alternate date."

Without waiting for a response or reaction from any of his students, he turned and walked back to the head table where Minerva had just taken her seat.

"How's he doing Severus?" The transfiguration professor asked with a quiver in her voice.

"Alton is trying another medication now, which will hopefully work better than the previous two," he carefully worded his reply so he did not exactly answer the question she asked. How was he supposed to answer how Harry was when he didn't even know himself?

"Can I have your attention please?" The headmaster stood at the front podium and called the room to attention once most of the houses were seated; stragglers ran into place at the last possible second. "Thank you all, I promise this will only take a moment.

"As most of you have heard by now, in the early morning hours today one of your fellow classmates was taken to the hospital wing gravely ill. I would like to assure you all that his particular illness is not one that poses any risk to the rest of the student body, and therefore I ask that everyone continue to respect his privacy in the matter. Should you have any concerns or questions, please bring them up privately with your Heads of House and they will address them in the manner in which they each see fit. Thank you."

With a wave of his hand, the food appeared on all the tables, but instead of the vibrant conversations that normally surround dinner time, the hall was unusually quiet and somber. Sets of students from all the houses - who either had not heard the news before now or hadn't known it was Harry - were looking around trying to see if they could identify who was missing from the Great Hall. At the staff table, there was very little conversation about it outside of the fact that until further notice, Harry's classes and tutoring had been cancelled.

Severus himself could not remember a time when the Great Hall was this quiet during a meal, however in searching through his memories he came across the one after Cedric Diggory's death. That was something that had not occurred in his old reality and that day had been quiet and somber too. It was another death that did not have to happen had things in this reality gone as they had back where he came from; something that was becoming overly frustrating for the professor today.

Once dinner ended, Severus stormed into the Slytherin common room in his normal powerful stride, robes billowing all around him, and the door slamming shut in his wake. He did not want to have this conversation with his students, but unfortunately something like this was needed.

"Please collect the rest of the students from their dormitories," he said to both of his seventh year prefects and then went to the front of the common room to wait. He could hear the murmuring around the room as the students assembled while he was peering out the window into the black lake. Once the commotion behind him quieted down, he turned to address his house.

"First and foremost," he started demanding the attention of his students. Everyone knew he was a difficult professor and as a Head of House he expected only the utmost respect from them, "I do not care how the rumors and gossip started, I do not expect to have any of you partake in spreading any more across the school, understood?"

"Yes Professor Snape," was mumbled throughout the room as students stood uncomfortable before him. Admittingly, he had not been as present to his house this year - and many of the first years were looking terrified - but he made a promise to himself that once Harry was back in classes things would get back to normal. Hopefully, this set back wouldn't put that time much further than Halloween.

"You all heard the headmaster's announcement," he continued, unsure how much detail to go into, but wanting to leave it as vague as possible. "I expect you all to respect the privacy of the student in quest-"

"It's Potter," Blaise Zabini interrupted, leaving the rest of the house speechless.

"And you know this how?" The professor challenged wondering if it was simply a good guess or something with more solid evidence that he should be investigating.

"It's obvious," the boy continued arrogantly, "Potter's the only one missing isn't he?"

Severus resisted the urge to show just how tired he was by that asinine comment. The teen would get nowhere in life with blanket statements like that.

"And you know every student... from every house," he paused for dramatic effect, "and every year? I highly doubt that Mr. Zabini. Of course Potter was absent, if you were that observant you would know that he has been missing since the start of term."

"Too bad he's not _really_ missing," Pansy Parkinson laughed, hitting Draco on the chest in a bantering, borderline flirtatious, manner. To his credit, Draco gave a convincingly good smirk, but the professor could tell it was not genuine. It was time to reign in the students before it seemed like he was losing control.

"The identity of the student in question will not be released per the headmaster's orders," he practically yelled in a firm, confident voice, "The _only_ thing you need to know is that the illness that has struck this student has no risk to any of you. Are there any questions?"

He stood before his house waiting to hear if any of them dared to ask the question he knew was in all of their minds. As he was about to dismiss them, Daphne Greengrass spoke up.

"Is it true Potter's staying with you?"

If the professor had been in a better, less exhausted mood he would silently commend her on her bravery. As that was not his current mood, he did what he thought was the most appropriate reaction and ignored her, but not before he caught a look in her eyes that made him question if she was seeking the answer for other reasons than to gossip.

"Should any of you wish to speak privately," he spoke in a careful tone making eye contact around the room, stopping an extra second longer on both Draco and Miss. Greengrass, "I will be in my office for the next half an hour."

Without another word, Severus walked passed the group of Slytherins and out the door.

He didn't particularly want to spend the next thirty minutes in his office, but it would be worth it if his suspicion was correct. With all his books on magical cores and muggle medicine down in his quarters, he decided to get started on some of the marking he was too far behind on. Until either a student showed up or his half an hour was over, he didn't have anything else to work on anyway. It took longer than expected, but twenty minutes after arriving at his office there was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he called out in a short tone. Having only napped in the armchair beside Harry's bed, he was now completely exhausted and it showed. As he had anticipated, Daphne Greengrass opened the door, but what he had not expected was Draco following in right behind her.

"Miss Greengrass... Mr. Malfoy," he said in a friendlier tone as he gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk, "please take a seat."

"Actually..." Draco said, turning to leave as Daphne sat down in one of the chairs, but one look at his classmate caused him to change his mind and the blonde sat down in the other chair; closing the office door behind him.

"Is there something I can do for you Miss. Greengrass?" The former spy didn't want to make any assumptions over the nature of her visit, however if Draco came with it could only be about the Dark Lord.

"Draco says you can help me," she started, her voice confident and nervous at the same time. Could it be what he was thinking?

Severus bought himself some time by organizing the papers he had finished marking on his desk. He didn't know much about the Greengrass family except that they were an elite pureblood line going way back; similar to the Malfoy's.

"That depends on what you need assistance with Miss Greengrass," he treaded lightly, not wanting to give his hand away too soon. "Is there something specific you are looking for?"

"Potter..." she looked down at her hands as she trailed off for a second before starting again softly, "Harry... He's staying with you isn't he?"

There was no way he was giving that information out to just anyone. The professor met Draco's grey eyes and the blonde nodded his head almost imperceptibly, just enough for the former spy to notice.

"And what if he is?" One of them would have to give in first and normally he had plenty of resolve; except right now half of his mind was still in the hospital wing wondering how Harry was doing. "If you could get to the point Miss. Greengrass-"

"I need help Professor Snape," she interrupted him, her voice thick with pleading, "I don't _want_ to be a Death Eater and Draco says you can help me."

"And why do you think you have to do any such thing?" While Severus had never heard of any Death Eaters by the name of Greengrass, it didn't mean they didn't exist elsewhere in the Dark Lord's ranks. Daphne was the eldest of only two daughters and as part of an elitist family without a male heir, anything was possible.

She looked embarrassed and turned to Draco as if needing his support before eventually admitting, "This summer my dad has been talking with Draco's aunt... they want to get me marked when I turn 17, to give more honour to our family."

If the Order did only one thing _other_ than take out the Dark Lord, it would be to eliminate Bellatrix LeStrange. Why do they keep recruiting younger and younger children? He could guess the answer; most likely to get easier access to Harry. Daphne was in Harry's year, her family likely wanting to appeal to the Dark Lord, add in Bellatrix and any number of scenarios were possible. Putting that aside, this was what he had sent Draco out to do; help the students who found themselves in an impossible situation like Daphne.

"Draco and I can help you," he said slowly then added skeptically, "Why are you so interested in Mr. Potter's living arrangements?"

Daphne looked down at her hands that were all twist tied in nerves and worry. "I just... I didn't believe what I'd heard; that you fought against the Death Eaters... and well... The rumors started that you're protecting Potter... Frankly sir, if they trust you to do that, then you must be good."

_There's that word again... Good._

"You don't turn 17 until after the Christmas holidays, correct?" He asked quickly considering how much potential time they had. It wasn't out of the realm to have a Death Eater marked as soon as possible, but if the Greengrass's wanted to wait until their daughter was 17, then he would work within that time frame just in case.

"Yes sir, not until the 23rd of February," she sounded nervous as if there was a chance her Head of House not only couldn't help her, but would instead turn her over to the Death Eaters as a traitor.

"I'll speak with Professor Dumbledore and see how we can help you," he said confidently, not exactly sure how they would go about it. "Understand, this will not be an easy process and it will take time, but we will protect you."

"Thank you sir," for the first time that night, Daphne smiled at Draco, who in turn met Severus's eye in gratitude. The professor could see this deeply moved Draco - to be able to help someone out of a bad situation - and Severus hoped this could be the start of the blonde thinking of people outside of his own interests.

"If that is all," Severus ended the meeting by standing and letting his statement stand on its own.

Draco turned to address Daphne before she could say anything, "I'll meet you back at the common room, I need to talk to Professor Snape about something."

Daphne only nodded and immediately got up and left the office, closing the door behind her leaving the two male Slytherins standing alone together.

"Great work Draco. Keep a close eye and ear on her to make sure she's genuine," Severus complimented his protégé as he walked past the blonde towards the door, "We'll talk later; I have somewhere to be."

"What's wrong with Potter?" Draco asked in a more curious tone than the last several times he'd asked about Harry.

Holding on tightly to the door knob, trying to calm his nerves and ready to frantically swing the door open, he simply said, "He is sick."

Draco gave a small chuckle, "I know that already, but what's wrong with him now?"

"He is sicker," it was a petty answer, but his patience had been pushed beyond his tolerance level already.

The professor had just opened the door when Draco called out, "I know about the cancer... The Leukemia."

Severus was tired and he wanted to simply go, see Harry, and be done for the night, yet something inside of him said he needed to do this.

"Follow me," Severus called out over his shoulder. If he was going to talk to Draco, he might as well do it from the hospital wing. Maybe then he would be able to focus on the conversation when he wasn't feeling the worry in the pit of his stomach.

Healer Smithe and Madam Pomfrey were still around Harry's bedside, which seemed a bit unusual to Severus, however they both had spent an abnormal amount of time with the teen lately. Alton was changing out bags on Harry's IV stand, while Poppy was still seated in the chair Severus had napped in earlier that day.

As Severus and Draco approached the bed, the professor took note of Draco's gait slowing down and his posture stiffening. Turning towards the blonde, Draco's eyes were shifting to take in not only Harry's outwardly ill appearance, but all of the muggle medications surrounding his bed, the tubing going into the Gryffindor's nose, the port in his chest, and multiple lines going into the IV in his left hand. Had Severus not studied muggle medicine previously, it would be a lot to take in especially if he had come from a pureblood wizarding family like Draco's.

"It's alright Draco," Severus called out, gesturing for him to take the other open chair besides Poppy.

"Everything should be all set for tonight Severus," Alton explained sounding more worn out than before, "Poppy has everything she needs to take over and I'll be back sometime tomorrow."

"Thank you Alton," Severus replied quietly, walking up to the bed and picking up Harry's right hand. He didn't notice Draco watching Alton as the healer left for the floo in Poppy's office with the matron following shortly behind him.

"How did you find out about the Leukemia?" Severus asked the teenager next to him as he sat in the chair Poppy had vacated.

"Granger had a book I borrowed last week," he gave a disgruntled face, "but Potter told me the word Leukemia on Tuesday and I went from there."

Severus nodded. There really wasn't much else to say, so why did he feel the need to bring Draco here to talk?

Biting his lower lip, in an extremely un-Malfoy gesture, the teen added, "I don't really understand it though. Is that why he's here?"

The professor closed his eyes willing any of his Occlumency shields still intact to help him through this. "No, he's got something called pneumonia. His cancer, and the many medications he's on, make him more susceptible to illnesses, which is why he cannot attend classes. He likely got this from all the different people coming in and out of our quarters."

"He can die from it." It wasn't a question Draco asked. He had understood enough of the book to know what could happen. "He's supposed to be the savior of the wizarding world, what happens if he dies?"

At first Severus was angry with the selfish thought process from Draco - right at a time the professor thought he could be changing too - except the more he played the question in his mind, the more he realized it was Draco's way to distance himself from emotions he had no idea how to process.

Would Severus be as upset as Draco was if - back in his own Hogwarts days - James Potter or Sirius Black was laying in this bed? Probably not, but Severus already knew he was not a good person no matter what anyone else said about him. Draco and Harry though, even given everything they were up against, were good people; it might be harder to find for Draco than Harry, but he was getting there.

"He's doing everything he can to stay alive, and at least until now, things were looking positive. At this point, we have to wait and see." It was unfortunately the best they could do.

"Talk about some rotten luck, " Draco tried to joke, only Severus could see right through him, "first he's an orphan, then he's got a connection to an evil dark wizard, and now he gets a muggle disease. Is there anything else Potter can manage to get himself into?"

_You have no idea._

The two Slytherins sat next to each other listening to the pouring rain that had started sometime since they arrived back at the hospital wing. Severus did not know how to answer Draco, so instead he decided to talk to the blonde about the Leukemia. Of all the things he was dealing with in relation to Harry, that was actually the most innocuous to discuss. He answered Draco's questions - about cancer in general, Harry's chemotherapy with the side effects he's facing, and the pneumonia - to the best of his ability, both of them keeping in mind what he could not say because of the Order. Overall, it seemed enough to satisfy the blonde's concerns. When it was almost curfew, Severus sent Draco back to the common room for the night.

When the professor had been left alone with just Harry, he had a million thoughts racing through his head. Even if - no, when - Harry recovered from the pneumonia infection, they still had to deal with what Harry had heard him say the other night. No matter how much he tried, there wasn't a scenario he could come up with that had Harry forgiving him for what he said without explaining the Horcrux situation. If he could figure out how to kill the Horcrux without killing Harry in the process, then he'd feel better explaining it to the Gryffindor.

"I don't know what to do Lily" Severus heard himself say randomly, leaning over to rest his arms on his knees. He's never been one to talk to those _beyond_ , however tonight it was needed and before he knew it he just started talking, "I know it's selfish of me but... I'm just not ready to give him up yet. I'm going to find a way to save him; I have to. I'm not going to stop until he's safe and healthy.

"I promise you I'm trying to fix things here for him, I really am. I'm ashamed of what my other self has done both to Harry and the rest of the wizarding world. So much has happened here that didn't need to... I don't know if you know about the other reality I was in; I can't see how you possibly could... After everything I've done to get here, I fear I haven't managed to make anything better for him.

"I lost control. It's just been too much. I want to do something, I want to help him, I want to fix this, but I cannot do a damn thing besides sit here and wait. I have to trust that everything we're doing will save my..." Severus paused for a long time running through all the thoughts racing around his head; all of them leading to one single thought he'd never said out loud in this reality, "I love him Lily... Like he's still my son."

Severus pulled out his wand and transfigured his robes into a blanket, then settled into the armchair beside Harry's bed to sleep. He thought it was unlikely he would get any actual rest sleeping there all night, however the lack of sleep the night before, plus the draining emotions of the day had him snoring almost immediately. Sound asleep in the armchair, the former spy was completely unaware that Draco had come back to ask his Head of House a question about Daphne's situation and overheard everything Severus said from the other side of Harry's curtain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Leak


	32. The Leak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review!

~~~~SS~~~~

If Severus heard one more person say he shouldn't blame himself, he swore it would be the last thing they would ever say again. He understood he shouldn't blame himself, but he did not need the constant reminder of it from Minerva, Albus, Poppy, and even Molly. When it was all said and done, it was his job to protect Harry and if he had done his job properly, Harry would not be fighting to breathe through the pneumonia. Trying to think ahead, there was no way to prevent possible exposure if he was still teaching and Harry was getting tutored which meant he'd need to get creative in finding a way to keep Harry safe. In an effort to help busy his anxious mind, he spent his time by Harry's bedside determined to find a way to better sterilize their environment; even if it meant creating the spell himself.

Severus spent most of Friday in the hospital wing - trying his hardest to avoid Molly who was still regularly visiting Ginny - except for when he had visited the headmaster's office before lunch to discuss the situation with Daphne Greengrass. It was decided that Severus would start searching for any kind of Dark Arts history throughout the Greengrass family line which would help them know how deep rooted the family could potentially be with the Dark Lord. Concurrently, Draco would also help him to learn more about the discussions for Daphne's initiation from over the summer holiday. With any luck, this was a simple enough task for Draco to take the lead on almost without the professor's help. Their end goal was to have a plan worked out before the Christmas holiday to prevent her from receiving the mark, which would give them an additional two months before her 17th birthday should things not go as planned.

As if the day hadn't been trying enough, he'd gotten back from the meeting with Albus to find Minerva sitting with Harry, who was still unconscious. He hadn't talked with Minerva about everything that had happened before Harry had gotten sick and with his luck, that was what she was intent on discussing.

"Good afternoon Severus," she somberly greeted him.

The defense professor put on the muggle medical mask which was now required for anyone visiting Harry because his white blood cell count was still dangerously low. Without muttering a single word, Severus nodded his head to acknowledge her greeting; having no real need to talk to anyone right now.

"This is not your fault you know," the Transfiguration Professor lectured him for the twentieth time causing Severus to emit a small growl. "In the wizarding world if someone is sick, we merely take a pepper up potion and most of the time we go on our way. There was nothing else you could have done."

Taking a deep breath, he said, "I'm developing a charm to better sterilize our quarters. With everyone coming in and out, it's not surprising he caught something. I should have done this over the summer and had it ready before the school year started."

His colleague didn't hide her amazement at the fact that he was talking about developing a spell as if this were something he did all of the time. Giving a small chuckle she said, "Of course you are. I wouldn't expect anything less."

"Aren't you supposed to be teaching a class right now?" He was getting frustrated and wanted this seemingly pointless conversation to end.

Albus had excused Severus from his classes until further notice, bringing in Nymphadora Tonks to cover them - who apparently would have been offered the position had Severus not needed to change departments this year. While he was grateful for the help and the time to spend with Harry, he was also dreading the return to the mess she was sure to leave his class in upon his return. Albus didn't have the best track record with hiring defense professor's, himself included if we're being honest, though he thought he at least had a good start to the year.

"Obviously I have a free period now," she responded as if Severus should have known that; which he had, he'd merely hoped to use it as a sign for her to leave. "Why do you think Harry's going to die regardless of his treatments? That was quite the statement you made the other day."

He was really hoping she would forget all about that. With any luck, Harry would not remember either - not like that was a reason to ignore what was said that night. In fact, even if Harry woke up with no recollection of the event, he'd have to tell Harry what had happened. Too much had occurred over the last several months to risk losing his trust over this. For now, he couldn't tell Minerva about the Horcrux. Until he had more knowledge and a plan of action to rid it safely from Harry's body, the information stayed between himself and the headmaster.

"As I said that night, it was taken out of context," Severus rubbed his forehead more to give him time to think than because of a potential headache. "I was having a very... negative night and I let it get to me."

"Have you considered a mind healer Severus?" She was now the second person to say that in the week. He didn't need someone to talk to; he needed to get these mysteries solved, he needed Harry to heal, "There's nothing wrong with getting help when you need it. No one would think any less of you; Merlin knows both you and Harry have been through a lot in such a short amount of time."

All he could think about was the same thing he'd told Alton when he had suggested it, "Thank you Minerva; I'll take it under consideration."

"Sure you will Severus," she knew him well enough to know the man would put it off as long as he thought he could get away with it, and in that moment she committed to asking him periodically until he finally took her seriously. "Now tell me, how could Harry ward his door to where not even I could open it?"

"I haven't figured out what is going on with that yet," he replied curtly. It was another thing on his ever expanding list of things to research. If he wasn't feeling overwhelmed before, today was definitely pushing him over that edge. Maybe there was some benefit to eliciting help in at least this quest and it was definitely something Minerva could provide good insight into. "All I know is that he has started doing, what I unofficially call, unintentional magic. I thought it was simply his accidental magic manifesting due to his unique situation - a blanket being summoned when he was cold, his leg healing itself - but it's gotten more advanced and most definitely more controlled.

"The only pattern I've ascertained is that it's almost always related to something he needs in that immediate moment and that it's at its strongest after the episodes of the burning feeling in his stomach. He'd had one of those on Tuesday, which is why I didn't think twice about his door being locked on Wednesday night. I keep going back and forth and I don't know if I should be concerned over it depleting his magical core at a higher rate or feel relieved that it seems to be getting stronger instead of weaker, possibly indicating he won't completely lose his magic when all of this is over."

The elderly witch was thinking hard through the types of accidental magic she'd heard of, but couldn't come up with anything without doing some more research on the subject.

"I'll look into the unknown magic Severus. Nothing comes to the forefront of my mind, but if something like this exists, I will find it," she assured the man sitting next to her. "You have plenty of other things on your plate; let me at least take this one."

"Thank you Minerva," he said genuinely meaning it, "I would greatly appreciate that and it would be extremely helpful to me."

* * *

By Friday evening, Harry was still mostly unconscious using the oxygen to help with his difficulty in breathing, but the new antibiotic Alton started yesterday seemed to be helping the fever come down slightly throughout the day. For the first time Severus could at least see some light at the end of their proverbial tunnel. Hopefully, it was only a matter of time before the teen woke up and they could move on from this horrible nightmare.

"Professor Snape?" he turned around, surprised to hear Ron calling his name.

The professor was back at the hospital wing, after eating dinner in the Great Hall, reading through the book on cleaning charms when Ron and Hermione tentatively peeked around the curtain that was in place to give Harry some semblance of privacy. Unfortunately it didn't stop students from wandering by - or even into - the hospital wing in hopes of seeing what was going on and Severus knew every so often the curtains had been moved. They'd be lucky if Harry's cancer wasn't a rumor around the school by the end of the weekend. Severus stood to allow both of Harry's friends to sit.

"How's he doing today?" Hermione asked nervously, sitting down the chair Severus had just vacated with Ron taking the other one.

"Madam Pomfrey says he's doing well, but it's hard to know for sure," he answered her honestly. Harry had very few moments when he was awake and lucid which was concerning to the professor no matter what the medi-witch had said. Since Alton had not stopped by since last night when he started the new antibiotics, he hoped to get more information once the healer eventually arrived back at the hospital wing.

Severus watched Hermione take a hold of Harry's right hand, gently rubbing at the scars from the blood quill. Both of Harry's friends had known about the detentions and neither thought to say a word to any of their professors. It was frustrating, nevertheless he knew why they hadn't; Harry would have denied it even with the visible scars as irrefutable proof. No matter what his opinion was on Harry's friends, always enabling his secrecy, the professor knew how important they were to Harry and was grateful they could be here with the ill wizard.

"I knew he wasn't looking well when I was there on Wednesday afternoon," Hermione said sadly trying to hold in her tears. "I even told him so and he said he was fine. Why does he always do that? Tell us he's fine when clearly he is not."

It was something Severus battled with the Gryffindor in both realities, but it was noticeably worse here. Likely due to his continued neglect and abuse from his relatives, Harry had this inability to ask for help and then always assumed he had to be the first to jump in to aid others. That fact alone solidified Harry's Gryffindor placement because none of the Slytherins would go to that extreme; himself included. _This Harry_ didn't know it, but Severus had learned from his old reality about the young wizard almost being placed in Slytherin. Occasionally, the professor questioned if there was a reality out there where that had happened. How different would life have been like if Harry Potter were a Slytherin?

"He is definitely a true Gryffindor," the professor said for the first time in this reality without any malice, to which the two teenagers in front of him turned towards him in confusion. Ron simply shook his head, Hermione gave a small giggle, and Harry - of course - did not react at all. He would have said it over and over again if there was any chance of a reaction from Harry.

"I should go; let you both visit," the professor continued, "please have Madam Pomfrey find me should anything change or if Healer Smithe finally arrives."

As soon as he exited the hospital wing, turning the corner to head back to his quarters for a little rest, Severus ran - quite literally for the student - into Draco, who was panting as if he'd run all the way up there from the dungeons. Severus immediately placed his hand on his own dark mark confirming there had not been a summons, and yet Draco appeared panicked; something very rare for this particular student.

"Sir..." The Slytherin called out, clutching his side as he tried to catch his breath. "Professors... I... I need..."

"You _need_ to stop talking before you pass out," the professor furrowed his brows, bending over to Draco as his student was now taking large, slower breaths, "Much better... Now you may speak."

"I need to talk to you," Draco said in a still panicked voice.

"Yes," Severus replied, losing his patience, "that part was quite obvious. What is it that you need to discuss?"

The blonde peered around at the empty corridor they were standing in and whispered, "Not here. Can we go to your office sir?"

That sounded ominous and not at all what he wanted to hear. Severus should have prided himself on instilling this level of caution into Draco, instead he ran through all the different possibilities that the blonde could have to tell him that would require this amount of secrecy. Without muttering a word, he nodded his head and both Slytherins took off towards his defense classroom - or more accurately Professor Tonks' defense classroom - to use her office.

"What is going on?" he said the moment the door was closed and warded silently behind them.

"I've seen him before," Draco called out pacing the office in front of Severus's desk. This time, the professor did not even try to hide the confusion from his face. In his frustration Draco started rapidly explaining, "Potter's healer! On Tuesday, when he was asking me all about what happened when Potter passed out, I thought he looked familiar... there was just so much going, it didn't sink in at the time.

"Then last night at the hospital wing I was sure I'd seen him somewhere. I thought I was going crazy all day thinking about it because where would I know a wizard who specializes in _muggle diseases_? But then it hit me... he was _definitely_ at the manor."

_No, no, no..._

"And when was this?" Severus asked sharply, his eyes wide in realization and practically holding his breath waiting for an answer. It made no sense and yet somehow he knew Draco was correct even before he answered. Clarifying his question further Severus asked, "Was this before or after the Dark Lord moved his headquarters into the Manor?"

"After sir," Draco had fear written in his eyes as he tried to make the same connection Severus was making, except he had so little information he would never be able to get there. "It was maybe... I don't know... Three or four days before the raid with the muggles. I only saw him in passing as Bellatrix walked him to the floo, but I'm _sure_ it was him! You can check my memory in a pensieve if you don't believe me."

Severus took notice at Draco's use of his aunt's full name without the title. The teen was distancing himself from the Death Eaters - another great sign of his Slytherin's moral growth - even if he wasn't aware of it himself.

That was, of course, nothing compared to the problem they now faced. If Alton was seen, relatively unharmed, within the Dark Lord's headquarters, he needed to figure out if the healer was there voluntarily or if he was coerced into being there.

_How far back had this been going on?_

Severus knew the Death Eaters had found out the healer's identity long before the Privet Drive attack, but when did they approach him? Was that all a ruse and his friend had been working with them since the beginning? Severus's first realization of a potential leak was after the Burrow attack, but there was the possibility he could have been working against them all along. There were so many unanswered questions, but Severus's instincts still told him the healer would not intentionally harm Harry. However, what else could he have been doing there?

"Did he see you?" The professor first needed to know if Draco was in any danger from this revelation. Based on their previous interactions in Severus's quarters, Alton would have no knowledge of Draco's connection to the Dark Lord and if - for some reason or another - he did, the healer would have no way of knowing the Slytherin's intended betrayal. If that did get back to the Dark Lord, Draco would be in grave danger.

"No," the blonde said after taking the time to think seriously over the question, "I don't think he was paying enough attention to notice me. I was in the library when they passed by to the floo; hell I didn't think much of it myself at the time, so I doubt he would have."

_That very well could be a fatal assumption._

They would have to be careful what was said in front of Alton going forward in regards to both Harry and Draco. Severus didn't think Alton would be placed specifically to spy on Draco, but it could definitely be a side effect they could not afford at the moment.

Heading straight to the office door, his heart pounding as if it were trying to escape his chest, he called after Draco to follow him. As much as this pained him inside, they needed to notify the headmaster that they had, with no uncertainty, found their leak.

* * *

"I don't see why we can't just go and get him. We obviously know he'll be back to tend to Potter at some point and he has no idea I've identified him, so we have the upper hand," Draco naively - and quite frustratingly - suggested. "Maybe, I don't know... Tie him to a chair for a day or so and let the madman interrogate him?"

_He's obviously still upset about that experience._

The three wizards sat in Albus's office digesting the information Draco had uncovered about Alton being seen at Malfoy manor. The headmaster had asked to see the memory from Draco and no matter how they interpreted it, the situation was not looking favorable for Alton. Not only was his face seen clear as day walking across the corridors, Bellatrix didn't necessarily have a "prisoner's hold" on him as she accompanied him through the manor. It ended up being a good teaching moment for Draco to learn how to read some subtle body language, but Severus wished it had been under better circumstances.

He could be reading the situation wrong, although Severus highly doubted so since his friend had no reason to know the Malfoy family personally; or it could have to do with why the Dark Lord has not yet been feeling the effects of the Leukemia - however Alton was not qualified to oversee any potions regimens, so that was also unlikely. He landed on the only conclusion he could think of and that was either Alton was providing intimidate information on Harry for Voldemort to use to then attack, or he was going to try to do something to kidnap Harry and bring him to Voldemort. The latter brought his mind back to the conversation about Harry going to the muggle hospital versus the hospital wing. Had Alton been trying to get Harry there so it would be easier to abduct him? Or perhaps it was a distraction to get him to the hospital wing and somehow the healer had plans for something to happen there? Severus could feel himself getting more paranoid by the second and wanted Harry moved back to his quarters immediately.

Out of every scenario he'd gone through, the one thing Severus was sure about was that the healer was not actively trying to kill Harry outright. If that was his goal, he would have simply needed to leave the antibiotics on the one that was clearly not working last night. It would have been easy enough to pass off the incorrect medication as the correct one and kill Harry quickly. Severus had also been verifying all of Harry's chemotherapy medications and dosages; none of them had been off and that was another time the healer could have killed the young wizard with almost no one the wiser. Harry's life was not in direct risk from Alton, but it definitely was indirectly.

"Think about it Draco," Severus said, trying to get the teen to work his way logically through the scenario. "If we simply capture him, we lose every bit of the advantage in the situation. However, with the right execution this can work in our favor."

The last part was said to Albus regarding how he believed they should move forward. There were still so many different pieces they had to put together. The two professors made eye contact and silently decided on their next steps; the headmaster nodding his agreement slightly.

"I need you to go back to the hospital wing and stay with Mr. Potter until I can make it back," Severus explained to Draco. "Stealthily, you need to make sure if Healer Smithe arrives for Harry's medication refill, that Madam Pomfrey is there to verify everything he does. Firecall this office should she need my confirmation of such a request, but I doubt you'll have much of an issue as long as you explain that I've asked her to do it."

The blonde looked as if he were about to argue, but changed his mind at the last second. With a smirk he sarcastically said, "Ok sir. We were supposed to have a Quidditch meeting tonight, but I suppose it's more important to go watch The Chosen One sleep."

"It most certainly is," the younger professor retorted, shaking his head slightly.

Once Draco had left and the door to the headmaster's office closed, Albus stood and started pacing with his hand clasped tightly behind his back. This was his usual _seriously thinking_ routine.

"Severus, I know you have a history with Alton Smithe," Albus turned to meet his defense professor's dark eyes hoping to convey his message with as much decorum as he could, "Therefore, I will understand if you wish to not be involved with the investigation. I, myself, would probably not feel comfortable being in such a position."

"My loyalty is to Harry first and the Order second," the former spy reassured his employer. "If it's determined that Alton is working against us, I do not care about whatever history we may have. If he's a threat to Harry, I'll do whatever it takes to protect Harry; friendship be damned."

"That's comforting to hear my boy," the elderly wizard replied in a soft voice as Severus was thinking carefully about recent events.

"Albus," he said in almost a whisper, "you do realize it's more than possible that the two muggles the Dark Lord kidnapped-" Severus was interrupted by the headmaster raising his hand already anticipating where this was headed.

"I know you don't want to hear this Severus," the elder wizard said with a sad look in his blue eyes, "but if Healer Smithe is, in fact our leak, the timeline does not match up in his favor. It would mean he was working with Voldemort for at least a month prior to when the muggles were taken. Unless they were kidnapped in retaliation, it's not likely they are the Smithe's."

Severus was aware of that, but it did not stop him from pursuing his train of thought.

"If Sarah and Mary were kidnapped - for either blackmail or as a punishment - we cannot leave them there. We have to find a way to get them out!" The former Death Eater slammed his hand on the headmaster's desk, rattling the trinkets sitting upon it.

"Let's table any rescue attempts for now and figure what to do with the information we currently have and how they relate to Harry," insightful as always, the leader of the Order of the Phoenix jumped right in, "Are there other healers we can call upon to treat Harry?"

"Alton has been in communication with a pediatric oncologist, however she's a full muggle - with only a magical sibling - which would complicate treating Harry's magical core issue," Severus answered honestly.

"From my understanding there is no treatment for his depleting magical core. So why does the magical status of his healer or muggle physician make a difference?" It was a fair question even if Severus did not want to answer it.

"Technically that is correct," Severus said hesitantly, "however trying to explain his pain levels to a muggle, even if she had a magical relative, will not be simple. Harry's been on a high dose of his pain medication specifically to combat - and in some cases preemptively treat - the pain from his core depletion. I'm afraid that level of aid won't be an option for him through a regular physician. Not only that he is getting treatments done in a magical castle."

Albus sat back down at his desk across from Severus, "But when is anything we do easy, my boy? I think it would be worth pursuing should we need an alternate option in a short amount of time."

He was right and at that moment Severus would give almost anything for their life to be easy; just this once.

"I can make sure Alton is never alone with Harry," Severus decided, "but I still think he's doing more good than harm at this point, and we should let this one play out for now. I can find out if, and how long, he's been working with the Dark Lord and what his objectives are, if you give me some time. I'd wager a significant amount of galleons that it's either information or access and I won't let him get either of those anymore."

Albus wasn't convinced, but Severus knew in the end he would agree. There was no way Severus would allow any harm to come to Harry and the headmaster knew that fact, which was the only way he had any chance of sorting this out before Moody actually got a hold of Alton.

First thing was to find out if Sarah and Mary were in any danger because regardless of the reason why, if they were at Malfoy manor they needed help. Then he could find out how long the healer had been working with the Dark Lord, all while trying to keep Harry on track with his recovery and treatments.

"As you wish Severus," The headmaster said, "however, please notify me the moment you feel our boy may be in any danger."

* * *

Arriving back in the hospital wing, he should not have been surprised to see that Alton had finally arrived. The healer was busy switching Harry's medications with Draco watching him from the chair besides Harry's bed and Madam Pomfrey tutting around with the healer verifying his work as Severus had instructed Draco to have her do. Going forward he would need the medi-witch to have as much knowledge of Harry's medications as possible so he could have an extra person to help make sure everything was given as instructed. Until now they haven't had any issues, but as time went on and the pressure from the Dark Lord on his friend grew, a fatal mistake could easily be made.

"Nice to see you Alton," Severus exclaimed coming around the curtain. Harry remained unchanged; still unconscious and breathing with the oxygen assistance. "How is he doing?"

Severus couldn't help being hyper aware of what was going on around them and he was proud to see Draco following suit. The blonde Slytherin was watching every move Alton made, however it was done in a way that an untrained eye would not take notice; Alton would assume he was studying his Potions textbook. After Harry was finally through this and healed from the infection, they would have to go through the skills Draco had been using successfully and the ones that needed more tweaking. In the short time they had been training together he was proud of how serious Draco was taking his position, especially considering his past relationship with Harry.

"Again Severus, I do have other patients to see occasionally," Alton didn't even turn around towards the professor or pause from his work when he addressed the accusation. "However, we do need to talk about Harry's condition. I'm afraid things have taken an unfortunate, but expected, turn."

Severus sat down in the other chair as he prepared himself for the worst. How could Harry be beating the cancer overall, but not something as simple as pneumonia?

"Unfortunately, the latest blood sample result was not good. Harry's white blood cell count is not rebounding at the rate which he needs to successfully battle the infection," Alton explained standing near the top of Harry's bed directly across from Severus, "I'm recommending a granulocyte transfusion which is a transfusion of white blood cells. It will help give him a better boost to really fight off the infection. With that, plus a little luck, he'll be able to get through this, but I suggest we move quickly."

The professor had read all about blood transfusions in the muggle medical books. He wasn't nearly as surprised as Alton would have expected. He already knew that they were very common for Leukemia patients to need at least one during their course of treatment as their bone marrow no longer creates the levels of blood components - either due to the cancer itself or the chemotherapy - at which the patient may need at any given time.

Severus was not concerned about Harry needing the transfusion because the young wizard had already had one done after the Privet Drive attack. In that emergency, it was needed to help both his platelet and white blood cell counts and the donor then had been his cousin Dudley; who was thankfully a match to Harry and willing to donate on such an urgent basis. Now if Harry needed blood, they would have to go to the generic muggle blood bank or see if there was a way for Dudley to come to Hogwarts. While the latter seemed excessive when there was no reason the blood bank could not work, it was also the one Severus felt the most comfortable going with for this incident. Given everything they'd learned tonight, who knew what could happen with Alton arranging a random blood donor? Again he was forced to make a decision that was being over complicated by the revelation about Alton's potential treachery.

"He needs it Severus," Madam Pomfrey confirmed, likely picking up on his hesitance not knowing it had to do with Alton's trust, "I've reviewed the test results as well. The fever hasn't lowered any further and I'm afraid he won't be able to fight this infection on his own much longer. I'd recommend we discussed the possibility of Harry's cousin coming for an extended visit."

The professor hadn't forgotten how he was supposed to discuss the idea of Dudley visiting Hogwarts with Albus over the summer, however this was not the circumstances he'd imagined for such a visit. Based on where Harry and Dudley had left their relationship after the attack and their continued correspondence over the rest of the summer holiday, Severus had no doubt that the other boy would be willing to help save his cousin's life yet again.

"Absolutely," the professor said confidently making the decision on the spot, "Poppy, can you make the arrangements with the headmaster for Dudley to visit? I trust you'll express the urgency in the matter."

"Of course Severus," she nodded and, after giving one more look at Harry in bed, she quickly left for Albus's office. With any luck Dudley would be here in a couple of hours and they could start the process as soon as possible.

"How are you doing Alton?" Severus asked his friend, trying to sound as casual as possible with the probing question. It had been a busy few days and checking in wouldn't seem completely out of the blue. "With everything going on these past several months, I've rarely asked you how you're handing it all. Something like this cannot be easy on you either as a healer and especially as a father. I was just thinking the other day that I don't know how you and Poppy do it."

"No Severus it's never easy," the healer replied, rubbing his hand down his face, "but it comes with the territory. Sometimes we win the hard fight and other times..."

Alton never finished his sentence as he trailed off. It was an interesting statement. Did Alton view them as losing this battle? Did he think Harry would not recover, and if not, was that part of his ultimate goal?

"Well, I've never thanked you properly," the professor continued, "I know Harry is not your typical patient type on many levels and you were really only doing me a favor testing him for the Leukemia in the first place. I appreciate you sticking with him, but I would also understand if you wanted to pass this onto another healer. If nothing else, you'll have more time to spend at home."

"Thank you Severus. I'd like to see this one through; he really is a remarkable young man. Doesn't that first appointment seems so long ago?" Alton smiled and it was almost his normal kind smile. In fact, for someone less observant than the former spy, they wouldn't notice a difference. Briefly Severus wondered if Draco had noticed any difference.

"That it does Alton," he paused reconsidering the next question he was tempted to ask. He refused to let his exhaustion cloud his judgement and he needed to ask it. The reaction could make all the difference in how he proceeded, "How is Mary doing these days? No lasting effects from her potions I hope."

Alton made no visible outward change to indicate anything out of the ordinary was happening; that was, nothing except for the small extra inhale he took at the sound of his daughter's name. Severus had conveniently said it early in the question to gauge Alton's reaction to it compared to the rest of the sentence. Now the professor had no doubt that the two muggles - Mary was too young for accidental magic so she would be assumed a muggle like her mother especially if Alton was not present - were Sarah and Mary Smithe. Now the question was why did the Dark Lord kidnap them in the first place? Was it as a punishment for Alton's lack of progress or was it to use them to better control Alton? The Dark Lord would imprison them differently, so knowing the reason behind their abduction would aid the Order in any rescue attempts in the near future. Severus hated how he knew that fact and he was determined to put it to good use now.

"They're well Severus. Sarah sends her best for both you and Harry," his friend replied in a soft voice, "Mary's having no issues at all; she's maintained her clean bill of health since her potions."

"That's good to hear," he was too tired for this charade no matter how necessary it was. "It seems like we'll be in for a long night. Go get some rest while you can; you look awful."

"Like you're one to talk Severus; I'm certain you never sleep," Alton said lightly, turning back towards Harry. "Call me as soon as you hear something about his cousin. I'll be back to collect and start the blood processing."

Once the healer had left and only Severus and Draco remained, neither Slytherin bothering to address the other initially.

"Isn't Potter's cousin a muggle?" Draco asked, almost insulted by the idea. At the end of the day, it would take Draco years to get past his anti-muggle upbringing. "How is _he_ going to get into the castle?"

"What do you think happens if there is an emergency with a muggleborn student? Or how do you think muggle parents attend their child's graduation?" The professor asked with a layer of exhaustion to his voice. "Should Miss. Granger's parents not get to see her graduate simply because she is muggleborn?"

"Obviously I've had no reason to think about that," the teen said arrogantly. "At the rate the Golden Trio is going, they'll be lucky to make it to-"

One quick look at Severus's deathly stare and Draco didn't finish his sentence.

"The ability to allow select muggles into the castle lies with the headmaster," the professor explained, "I do not anticipate any issues in this case."

"Well there's no way Professor Dumbledore will let anything happen to Potter of all people."

"Don't be jealous Draco, it is unbecoming of you," Severus lectured leaning back in his plush chair and closing his eyes. "I'm sure Mr. Potter would be more than willing to give up his current predicament along with any presumed favoritism to just about anyone at the moment."

"Fine," Draco eventually conceded. They sat in an uncomfortable silence before Draco asked, "What's up with you and Potter? I can't see you going through all of this if it were only a job to you. It's almost as if you're taking this too... personally. No one would ever expect you to be standing up for the Boy-Who-Lived after the way you've treated him in class all these years."

"First it is none of your business," the professor said sternly sitting back up from his impromptu rest, "second, even if it were your business, you should avoid going around and making blanket accusations as you just did. Not only will you risk showing your hand prematurely, you may end up insulting the wrong type of person.

"And lastly, you should view every job as if your life depended on its success and as such, go above and beyond any effort you may think necessary."

The blonde Slytherin narrowed his eyes in doubt, "So this really is just a job to you?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, "You completely missed the point... It is none of your concern."

"I bet Potter gets tired of hearing that," Draco said snarkily, "because I know I do and I don't live with you full-time."

* * *

Severus was shaken awake by Madam Pomfrey. His body protested every moment of his waking and he was quickly reminded that he had yet to sleep in his bed since those early morning hours before he'd discovered Harry was ill. Without knowing how long the Gryffindor would continue to be this severely sick, he needed to commit to getting some kind of sleep back in his quarters. If not, even he had to admit his sanity would not last much longer.

It was dark in the hospital wing, likely the middle of the night, and it took him a second to process why the medi-witch was waking him up.

_The blood transfusion and Dudley Dursley's visit._

"What did Albus say?" He asked impatiently as Poppy took the seat next to him; a yawn escaped him proving how tired he actually was.

"Albus has finished with the arrangements to allow Harry's cousin entrance and now he's heading to see if the boy will agree. It's a complicated situation given that the cousin is underage, but as Harry's last blood relative hopefully that will make it a bit easier," Poppy had a nervous energy surrounding her and again Severus questioned how she managed to keep her resolve in the career path she'd chosen. He would have long given up if he were in her position.

"Perfect," was all the defense professor could think to say. Picking up on the matron's questioning glare, he demanded, "Might as well get out whatever it is you wish to say."

Relieved with the transition and permission to continue, Madam Pomfrey asked, "What is going on with Healer Smithe? When Mr. Malfoy entered the hospital wing before you or the healer arrived, he demanded that I verify all of Harry's medications and I not leave Healer Smithe alone with the boy. I was just about to question Mr. Malfoy, but he said it was on your orders and then of course Alton arrived and I didn't want to draw any unwanted attention to the situation.

"I did what was asked of me since there was no harm in two sets of eyes, however if there's an issue in trusting Alton I best know about it now."

She sounded concerned, but not nearly as insulted as she had the right to be. Harry was as much her patient as Alton's and she's never held back when she thought her territory was getting threatened. Poppy has always been a silent member of the Order - working behind the scenes and rarely attended meetings - but Severus knew first hand that she was no less important in the war against the Dark Lord.

"We've discovered evidence that Alton may have been compromised," saying it out loud made the awful accusations all too real. "Albus has agreed that he's the best option we have right now for Harry, however we need to double check all of Alton's work and test results; without him realizing it of course."

It was a lot to ask from someone who wasn't used to espionage and stealth, but he knew she could pull it off. Poppy already demanded to know every piece of business going on with her students, making this not out of the realm for her normal personality. The best cover ups always started with a sliver of the truth.

"I can do it; don't you worry about that," she fussed at him. "I've been studying my own copies of muggle textbooks for a while now and I will make sure I'm completely familiar with everything that happens to Harry.

"You and I can work out a schedule so one of us is here at all times. You might also consider asking Molly to keep an eye and ear out too. I know she would have no problem helping out; Harry's as good as one of her own son's."

That was an option he hadn't considered, but he would run it by Albus. If told to keep a close eye on Harry, the Weasley matriarch would do it - no questions asked - so she wouldn't even need to know about Alton's subterfuge.

The professor was lost in his thoughts when the curtain was pulled back and walking into their little nook of hospital wing was Albus with Dudley partially hidden behind the man's extravagant purple robes. Dudley was far thinner than Severus remembered seeing him; a testament to how difficult losing his parents had been on the teen. He was wearing pyjamas and looked as if he'd recently been dead asleep, but of course he probably had as it was the middle of the night after all. His pale face gave way to the fact that Albus had likely apparated them both to Hogsmeade, which was disorienting the first time even to a wizard, and then adding the walk through the castle - with its moving staircases, snoring pictures, and random ghosts - and it was more than enough to scare a muggle like Dudley. Apart from all of that, it wasn't the primitive hospital wing, lanterns, nor anything else magical from the castle that held Dudley's attention at that time; it was Harry, who was still unconscious in the hospital bed, lines of medications and oxygen coming out from his small body.

"Hi Professor Snape," Dudley said, not even turning his head towards the professor as he walked out slowly from behind Albus and approached his cousin's bedside. With a quiver to his voice, he asked, to no one in particular, "What happened? Is he gonna be alright?"

Before Severus could answer, Albus approached Harry's cousin, "He has pneumonia and if you're willing to help him, he will be."

"Of course I'll help him," Dudley responded, clearly insulted by what the headmaster was insinuating. "Let's get this started."

While Severus hadn't expected any resistance from Dudley, he knew coming all the way to Hogwarts in the middle of the night was - at least at some point in the past - beyond the teen's level of comfort. Severus was grateful that the one person who could aid Harry through this was more than willing to do so even through his own discomfort. It was another example of how powerless Severus was; there wasn't a single thing he could actually do for Harry outside of keeping him safe from whatever Alton's intentions were with the young wizard.

_If Alton, the Death Eaters, or even the Dark Lord himself thinks they'll get to Harry, they better prepare for a difficult fight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next: Telling the Truth
> 
> I wanted to let you all know that I'm not suren if or when I'll be updating for the next week and a half. I've essentially been immersed in the world of this story's universe since quarantine started for me back in March, but I'm finally getting to go out of town for a bit to visit family. I have around 35,000 words already written towards this fic and I'm sure I'll be adding to that as ideas come to me while I'm away, so once I'm home again the updates will go back to their regular frequency. Thank you all again!


	33. Telling the Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has reviewed!

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry was so tired of waking up with his body aching all over. It seemed like that was how he most often woke up lately, however this was far worse than most of those other times. His head was pounding into his ears, his throat was dry and sore, and each time he took a breath it still felt like a hippogriff was sitting on top of his chest. This was worse then the end of term last year when the leukemia had started and worse then when he'd started chemotherapy; this time he was sure he was dying.

Managing to crack his eyes open, Harry wasn't surprised when he couldn't make out a single thing in the room since it was not only blurry from his lack of glasses, it was also so dark it could only be in the middle of the night. A candle was set on top of the bedside table - flickering almost in tandem with his labored breaths - and he could tell there was at least one lantern lit somewhere in the room further away from wherever it was he slept.

Fear swept through his weak body as he took in the observations around him. Based on the feel of the bed and blanket where he was laying, he guessed pretty easily that he was in the hospital wing, as he'd been there plenty of times during his years at Hogwarts. Thinking back though, he had no idea why he was here - was he sick or hurt - how he had gotten here or how long he had been unconscious. Deciding he needed to get his glasses before trying to solve anything else, he reached towards the candle light and found that yet again he had an IV in both his right arm and his port, plus this time, something was pulling at his nose. Except now that he thought about it, the thing in his nose was helping him breathe just a little easier. All-in-all, none of this was a good sign.

_What's the last thing I remember?_

He didn't think it had been a chemo day, except he wasn't sure of anything anymore. Then he thought he remembered Hermione might have been over, but they hadn't been studying... his classes were cancelled? How long ago was all of that?

_I was feeling sick that day. Not chemo-sick though... Ugh, I still feel sick._

Laying his head back against the pillow on his bed, Harry tried to fall back asleep unsure of the exact time and how long he had until dawn. Unfortunately, there wasn't a position he could lay in that would stop his head from pounding or help make his lungs breathe any better. He tossed and turned for what seemed like an hour before he heard a door open and someone speaking from the other side of the curtain.

"I don't see how that's possible," the deep voice of Snape said quietly.

"I can see to the arrangements and make it possible Severus," Albus said with a voice laced with sadness. "It's been this long, a couple more weeks will not make much difference in the long run."

Harry could feel a cough tickling at the back of his throat and tried to hold it off as long as possible because he wanted to know what the two professors were talking about. In the end, he couldn't hold it in and the still rough, wet cough could be heard echoing across the walls of the hospital wing followed closely by another two. He struggled to inhale after the final one and had to coax himself to calm down so the oxygen could finally reach his lungs. The curtain was then suddenly ripped open to reveal Snape and Dumbledore looking in on him as if they expected him to be asleep and quite possibly dead by now.

"Morning," Harry tried to say, however all that came out was a scratchy nonsense syllable. His throat felt like there was sandpaper scratching against the sides whenever he tried to speak.

Snape walked over to the bedside table and handed Harry his glasses. Without another word, he conjured a goblet and filled it with water, then helped to hold Harry up so he could get a good drink from it. The young wizard could feel the water entering almost every cell in his body as if he hadn't had anything to drink in days - which may very well have been the truth - and the lukewarm water felt like bliss coating his dry throat.

"Thank you," he said, his voice was still scratchy, but this time at least he could be heard. "What happened?"

Harry could see the relief in Snape's eyes and somehow he knew that while he'd been awake before, it wasn't enough to make a coherent sentence. Now though, he could sense something bad had happened to him to cause that reaction.

"You've been very sick Harry," Snape replied simultaneously waving his wand to run a diagnostic charm, which Harry distinctly felt the tickle of. "You've been more or less unconscious for thirteen days... It is the early morning hours of the 24th. How are you feeling?"

_Thirteen days?!_

That was the longest amount of time he'd ever lost at once and by saying "more or less unconscious" meant he had been awake at some point. How could he not remember any of it?

Gathering up as much energy as he could, the Gryffindor said, "I'm really sore... And it's hard to breathe. Where's Healer Smithe? What time is it?"

Harry wanted to ignore the look that passed between the two men over his bed; he got the feeling there was something going on. He pushed up carefully so he was sitting up in the bed and laid his head back hoping for a position that didn't hurt his insides.

"Your healer, Madam Pomfrey, and Professor Snape have been rotating their care of you," Dumbledore explained sitting in the chair to the left of Harry's bed, "Professor Snape has exclusively taken the overnights; it's about three in the morning right now. I must say Harry, it is a great relief to see you up and speaking."

Harry nodded, what else was he supposed to do in a situation like this? The tickle on the diagnostic charm had finished and Snape was looking pleased with the results.

"Everything looks normal given what you went through," he said sitting down - clearly exhausted himself - in the chair. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"Erm..." Even after Harry had just gone through this in his own mind, he had a hard time recalling what it was he remembered last. "Hermione was over... But I don't think we were studying."

"No you would not have been," Snape confirmed, "I had cancelled all of your classes that day. Do you remember how you were feeling?"

"Sick... I definitely felt sick that day," the young wizard remembered, "I had a hard time breathing and was wondering why I was so bad when it wasn't even a day I had chemo. Or at least I don't think I did-"

"You had pneumonia," the dark haired professor interrupted with a tremble in his voice. "We had never discussed the importance of notifying me when you were feeling ill in a way different than the chemotherapy side effects. You needed a blood transfusion for additional white blood cells in order to fight off the infection, and even that did not work the first time."

"M Sorry sir," Harry mumbled; he didn't know why he felt embarrassed about the situation, it wasn't like he did it on purpose.

In fact, his brain was still fuzzy on the details, but he thought he _had_ gone to Snape when he realized he wasn't feeling well. It was hard to keep everything straight in his head and it didn't help that his eyes were getting heavy again. If Snape was doing the night shift now, he would be asleep when Harry woke up and he really didn't want to miss speaking to the professor. In the end though, he couldn't keep his eyes open and he was enveloped into the darkness.

* * *

"...was awake..."

"Shhhh..."

Harry could hear the distinct murmuring of his two best friends around him as his brain was coming out of the clouds and back into consciousness. His body was still aching and his chest was still tight, yet somehow he felt better overall. Through his eyelids, he could see the bright sunlight filtering in from the window above his head and it was almost reenergizing to him. As he was attempting to open his eyes, he heard another voice he recognized and never expected to hear by his bedside in the Hogwarts' hospital wing.

"Don't you both have class right now?"

It was Dudley... Talking to his two best friends as if he'd known them forever, meaning somehow in the last two weeks, his two worlds had officially collided. Gaining enough strength he opened his eyes, squinting against the bright September sunlight.

"Aren't you in the wrong school?" Harry asked certain only a fraction could actually be heard from his cracked voice. Sitting up on his left elbow - his IV was in the right arm - he reached over for his glasses. As always, Hermione beat him to it and placed them on his face for him.

"It's nice to see you actually awake for once," she said sitting down on his bed and grabbing his hand. "We were all so worried about you."

"I'm fine 'Mione," he said, trying his hardest to reassure the witch without knowing for sure that he was actually going to be fine. He still didn't really know what had happened, only that he had pneumonia.

"I don't know about that Mate," Ron spoke up, "you haven't really been all with it in almost two weeks. Sure you've been conscious here and there, but you weren't really here...if y'know what I mean."

"Great explanation Ron," he tried to laugh, but ended up in a coughing fit instead. Once he recovered, Harry turned to Dudley and asked, "How'd you get here? What's going on?"

"Oh," Dudley turned bright red, "Um, your headmaster came to get me the second night you were sick."

Harry closed his eyes focusing on the words he had heard. Did Dudley really drop everything just to come to Hogwarts - in Scotland - because Harry was ill?

"Harry," Hermione said softly, drawing his attention back towards her, "Dudley donated blood for you. Professor Snape refused to allow an unknown donor and he was a match. You actually needed blood several times and each one came from your cousin."

The small teenager could feel his breath shaking every time he exhaled. Dudley hadn't just come to see Harry, he saved his life... and more than once. Now he was sitting in a castle full of magic talking to two of the people Harry cared about most. It was like he woke up in a different world... which reminded him-

"Where's Severus?"

This time Ron managed to keep his cool at the use of Snape's given name. What had happened while he was sick?

"He's probably sleeping," his cousin responded confidently. "We don't know what's going on... they always have someone on watch and Professor Snape took all the night shifts. I think the only way he'd leave this chair to sleep was if he went during the day while there were plenty of other people to stay with you. He'd never leave your side otherwise."

Ron and Hermione were both nodding their heads. As if there wasn't already a lot to take in, at that moment Madam Pomfrey stuck her head around the curtain.

"Ah, Mr. Potter!" She exclaimed pushing Hermione unceremoniously out of his bed, "Severus and the headmaster said you had woken up last night; it's good to see you myself."

She immediately started fussing around him, waving her wand every which way running all different types of diagnostic spells and checking the bags of medication on the IV stand. Harry almost laughed at all the different tickles that ran through his body; most being focused on his lungs. He managed to hold back simply because he didn't want to end up in a coughing fit again.

"Aren't you two supposed to be in classes?" The medi-witch asked, to the other Gryffindors.

"Professor McGonagall excused us from them today on account of Harry waking up," Hermione said to which Madam Pomfrey simply huffed.

Harry knew he must have been very sick if Hermione skipped classes just because he woke up. He could see Ron jumping at the chance, however Hermione would normally have waited until a free period or maybe even after classes to visit.

"How much longer will I need to stay here?" He knew it was premature to ask, showing just how much he hated staying in the hospital wing.

"Since you came very close to dying at least twice in these last thirteen days, I should keep you here until that cough is completely gone," she lectured and Harry's eyes widened. He had a feeling she was serious about it this time and that the cough could still take a while to go away.

"I'm going to call Healer Smithe and let him know you've woken up," the medi-witch explained. Harry thought she sounded hesitant, but he brushed it off. "Why don't you three head down for lunch?"

It was not a suggestion. However, that didn't stop Ron from attempting to convince her that they should stay, "I think we should be allowed to eat here; he just woke up!"

One look from the stern matron told them all they needed to know, and the three teenagers left with a promise to come right back after lunch. Madam Pomfrey followed the three visitors out from around the curtain, leaving just enough open for Harry to see out across the room. He inhaled rapidly at the sight of Ginny sitting up in bed working on her school assignments. This was the first time he'd gotten to see her awake and he wanted nothing more than to go over to her and apologize for everything she went through. The only problem was that with the IVs and the oxygen he wasn't sure exactly how to get there, plus having been unconscious for 13 days he wasn't sure he physically had the strength to get there either. Not only that, he was 100% sure Madam Pomfrey would have a fit over him getting out of bed so soon.

"Why good morning Harry!" Healer Smithe's voice was a welcome break from the thoughts running rampant in his head. His healer walked in followed very closely by Madam Pomfrey.

"Morning," he sheepishly replied, "or I guess it's afternoon."

Healer Smithe laughed and went to work adjusting Harry's IVs. Madam Pomfrey had a small notebook and was looking over everything as if she were his apprentice. Maybe she would be taking a more active role as his treatments progressed?

That brought his thoughts back to the leukemia. If he had been asleep for two weeks, he had probably missed two of his treatments. Even worse, he should have been doing the last chemo for phase one of consolidation; meaning he'd literally lost almost two weeks worth of progress - a thought that thoroughly depressed him.

Healer Smithe and Madam Pomfrey went through everything that had happened medically to him since he contracted the pneumonia. His blood counts had reached back up to an acceptable level- for him anyway - which led into an explanation about the blood transfusions. They thoroughly explained why Dudley was brought to Hogwarts and how his cousin had asked to stay at least until Harry was recovered from the pneumonia. Neither adult mentioned anything about his chemotherapy schedule nor his cancer in general.

Once all the medical updates and tests were completed, Madam Pomfrey brought Harry a tray with a bowl of chicken broth and bread for lunch. Even though it had been long enough since his last chemo to where he should have been at least a little hungry, he still wasn't and had to force himself to eat the broth. Maybe once all of this was over he would get at least one good meal before chemotherapy started again.

As promised, Ron, Hermione, and Dudley came back after they had lunch in the Great Hall. Harry didn't want to admit this to anyone yet, but he was extremely happy to see Dudley again and proud of the other teen for stepping up to help Harry. It was only a couple of months ago when Harry was sure Dudley would have left him to die before venturing to Hogwarts.

"Oh Harry!" Ron called out during a chess game he had started with Dudley; something Hermione said they had gotten used to playing in the time Dudley had been at Hogwarts, "We have Quidditch tryouts on Sunday!"

Harry laughed at Ron's excitement, "I kind of thought it was obvious that I can't play this year Ron." While Harry had come to terms with the limitations that would be set upon him this year, he knew Ron previously had a more difficult time coming to terms with it all.

"I know that," the red-headed mumbled quietly, "I just thought... maybe you'd like to still come and watch."

Harry contemplated what Ron was asking. On the one hand, he was still technically immunocompromised and was still recovering from pneumonia; where he stood today there was no way Snape was letting him out of their quarters, let alone out of the castle. On the other hand, by Sunday he might be able to convince the man to let him out for just a little while on the premise that his blood counts were positive and it would be good for his mental health. He doubted they'd be doing chemo on Saturday, so it was really the last chance before that all started again.

"I'll ask Severus once I have a better idea of what's going on with my chemo schedule," Harry explained with an enthusiasm in him caused from at least having a chance to go outside... no matter how minuscule it was.

"Dudley, where are you sleeping while you're staying at the castle? You're not taking my spot in the tower are you?" Harry was joking, of course, and it felt refreshing to do so.

"Not at all," his cousin replied, "I'm in some kind of guest quarters around the corner. It's where Ron's mum stayed for a while."

_Oh._

Harry had forgotten about that. Thinking about Ginny dampened his mood a little. At some point he'd have to talk to her about everything that had gone on; so much had happened since then and he really wanted to forget about it all at the same time.

"So what do you do all day?" The young wizard asked Dudley; clearly he couldn't attend any courses here. "Like when everyone else has been in class?"

"Professor Dumbledore has me helping out in Professor Burbage's classes," Dudley answered, making a chess move even Harry recognized was not a good one, especially against Ron. This would be a quick game.

"Muggle studies?"

Dudley shook his head and then started talking about all the different ways he's been assisting in the class. Having never taken Muggle Studies, it was actually really interesting to hear and Harry was sure Uncle Vernon was rolling over in his grave; Aunt Petunia would have likely been ok with it, if only for Dudley's sake. No matter how pathetic Harry thought it was, it hurt him to think about how different his upbringing would have been had Dudley randomly gotten a letter from Hogwarts. Aunt Petunia might have finally accepted Harry, and as his blood relative, she was really the only one that mattered to him. The exhaustion was catching up with Harry and without even realizing it, the young wizard had fallen asleep mid-conversation with his cousin.

During his impromptu nap, Harry dreamed about restarting classes and trying to stay caught up with the material. In his dream, he was relieved that it seemed all the other students had already known about his cancer and mostly let him be. He could only hope for his real transition back to classes went as smooth as his dream had been.

Then the dream morphed right into one about attending a Quidditch match where he was clearly sick from post chemotherapy, but was determined to sit in the stands with Hermione and Dudley to cheer on his team - with Ginny having replaced him as their seeker. Somewhere on top of all the visual aspects of his dreams, he could hear the words " love him Lily... Like he's still my son" whispered almost inaudibly. He'd heard that at some point, but couldn't place when. They were such bittersweet dreams to be immersed in that he never wanted to wake up until he could go back to classes again and feel just a little bit more normal.

* * *

Harry ended up staying in the hospital wing through the end of the week. Since Snape refused to stop taking the night shift on whatever "Harry Watch" the Order was requiring while he was there, the Gryffindor had seen very little of the man, startling him for complicated reasons. Most of his days were spent working on school work that he'd missed, with each of tutors stopping by for truncated lessons each day; sleeping; or hanging out with Dudley who seemed more than a little excited to be around all the magic, genuinely surprising Harry. Ron and Hermione stopped by every night after dinner and the four of them would either continue studying or simply get caught up on what had happened in the two weeks Harry missed.

On Friday afternoon, Healer Smithe performed another bone marrow biopsy to see if any of the Leukemia had re-emerged from missing the two weeks of chemotherapy. Harry absolutely hated the bone marrow biopsies and was not looking forward to more of them in his future. The Gryffindor was alarmed to think that it was possible for the cancer cells to take over so quickly again and he vowed to try everything he could to stay healthy - even if it meant wearing that stupid mask - going forward so this might not happen again. The absolute last thing he wanted was to have to go backwards in his recovery.

He also found himself wondering - for the first time since his diagnosis - what would happen when all of this was over. When he had his last chemotherapy three years from now and he took his last tablet medication, how long would it take before he could relax and truly believe the cancer was gone? Could they even say for sure the cancer was gone? He knew all the statistics, but those didn't ease the anxiety he was feeling about how unknown his future was. He had a feeling he would be plagued with worry for a long time after everything was over, if he were lucky enough to make it that far.

On Friday evening, once he was ready to go back down to Snape's quarters, he finally had the chance to talk to Ginny. They'd caught glimpses of each other through the curtains all week and Mrs. Weasley had relayed important messages back and forth, but they had not gotten a chance to actually talk to each other.

Now that Harry was no longer connected to the oxygen and the IVs, he walked over to Ginny's bed and sat down in the chair that Mrs. Weasley usually used. The Gryffindor witch was sitting up in her bed that was covered in parchment and textbooks. While most of Ginny's injuries had healed, she still had a dark purple scar that ran the length of her cheek from where the awful cut had been. It would be a permanent reminder of this horrible ordeal she had to go through all because of Harry.

"Hey stranger," the young witch said smiling at him and then boldly reaching out to straighten his cap, "seems like you've had a rough start to the school year too."

Harry was embarrassed; this was his first time seeing her since the Leukemia diagnosis and starting chemotherapy, "I'd rather not talk about that if it's ok with you."

"Yeah, of course," Ginny said awkwardly. She was hesitant to bring up anything else, afraid it would make her friend feel worse about himself and his situation.

"I'm so sorry Ginny," Harry had said it to her every time he'd come to visit her during the week before the muggle fight with Ron took place, but it felt better to say it when he knew she could hear him; so she could truly understand how bad he felt about the whole thing.

"Harry," Ginny replied in a demanding way he should not have been surprised to hear. She took a hold of his left hand and Harry thought about how soft it felt in his own, "Just don't, ok? I'm going to tell you not to blame yourself and you're going to want to anyways. I know exactly how you think, so let's just skip all that. I'm going to be alright."

Harry couldn't really deny what she was saying, he would probably continue to blame himself. Yes, he'd heard it time and time again that he didn't cause anything, however that didn't change the fact that the Death Eaters had been trying to find him, and it was enough.

Instead, they chatted idly about the new school year; how Ginny was already behind the year of her O.W.L.s and she wasn't sure how she would be able to catch up and Harry could understand that. When they were deep in a conversation about if Gryffindor had any chance of winning the Quidditch cup without Harry as the seeker, Healer Smithe came into the hospital wing going straight into Madam Pomfrey's office, with Snape directly on his heels asking Harry to follow him to the floo, where they both headed back to dungeons.

To Harry, arriving back in the dungeons felt like going home; even more so than when he had arrived back at Hogwarts each of the previous years. It was a new feeling for Harry and a very confusing feeling at the same time. Now he was able to admit to himself that this was his home - at least until he was no longer a Hogwarts student - for as long as Snape would let him live there.

While he'd been getting stronger each day and it was slowly getting easier to breathe, the young wizard sat down on the familiar sofa almost prepared to take a nap. His eyes were closing and his brain was getting a little foggy, when Snape gave Harry a stern look which told him he needed to pay attention to what was going on. Working against his body's urge to sleep, Harry sat up on the sofa to focus.

The floo roared to life several times, filling the small sitting room with - in addition to himself and Snape - Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Healer Smithe. Something about the atmosphere felt good to Harry and while the news could go either way, his intuition said this was going to be good news.

"Your blood work is looking great Harry," the healer said, starting out straight away once everyone was seated. "The blood transfusion was a success and your cell counts are continuing to increase at a rate we'd expect."

Harry couldn't contain his smile. Finally something was going right and he had Dudley to thank for it. A fact that still amazed him days after its discovery.

"I also have the results from your bone marrow biopsy we did this afternoon," the healer pulled out several pieces of paper and handed them around to everyone. As usual, Harry had no idea what it meant and he wondered if Dumbledore or McGonagall were also just as clueless. Snape, on the other hand, took a half a glance at the results and nodded his head.

 _How much studying on Leukemia has Snape actually done_?

"Unlike the one we did after induction, this time we are simply looking to make sure the numbers aren't returning," the healer continued, "And I'm happy to say you're still in remission, so it appears if we've lost any time, it's minimal. At this point I'm not recommending any additional rounds added to the first consolidation phase."

This news almost made Harry happier than when they won the Quidditch cup in his third year. He had spent the last four days worrying in his head that he had gone backwards and that wasn't the case at all! Harry turned towards Snape and saw the same sight of relief in the man's black eyes. The professor had been just as concerned as Harry had and that thought warmed the Gryffindor from the inside; he wasn't alone in all of this.

"So what's next?" The youngest wizard asked jumping straight in with a new found energy. "I still have three weeks of the first consolidation right?"

"That is correct," Healer Smithe said, handing out yet another paper; his revised chemotherapy schedule. "You'll restart consolidation with the IT plus five hours next Saturday, the 5th of October followed by the three days of the four hour IV chemotherapy Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. Those are the hardest on you, so do try to remember that it will be the last of those medications until near the end of phase 3. The following two Saturdays, you'll do the IT plus one hour, putting the end of your first part of consolidation on the 19th of October."

"Can I go back to classes after that?" Harry asked impatiently. Knowing it would be a big adjustment to restart classes and he had a lot of catching up to do in the next three weeks, he was still ready to get back to his normal life.

"We'll keep an eye on your blood counts, but I'm penciling in the 28th to restart classes," Harry's heart dropped. That was almost an extra ten days. "The next phase of consolidation - also known as interim maintenance - will start on Friday the 25th. We'll go through the exact timetable as we get closer, however since these will be spaced out more and have less of a chance to drop your blood cells, I expect you'll start feeling more like yourself sometime in November."

That was music to Harry's ears... at least until an equally terrifying thought entered his mind.

_Do I even know what that was?_

"Will he be able to go back to Gryffindor tower?" It was Professor McGonagall who asked. Harry could only imagine the questions and inquiries she had to be receiving on an ongoing basis. The problem was, when he had thought about going back to classes he had always still imagined himself living with Snape here in the dungeons.

"That will be the time to start getting back to normal life or as close as possible to normal," the healer explained, not really answering the question either way, "you need to understand that he'll still be considered immunocompromised, just not necessarily at the level he is now. Plus it's not abnormal for cancer patients to have a difficult time with adjusting back into _'normal life'_. What I'm trying to say is, that it's really up to how comfortable Harry feels about it."

That would be something else for Harry to consider; for now he was going to relish in the fact that there would come a day when he was going to be closer to his normal self again. And that day was so close, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like.

Harry was back in his bedroom Friday night; comfortable for the first time since waking up in the hospital wing four days ago. While he had been exhausted when he had arrived back into their quarters, he was now filled with eagerness about the idea of an easier chemo schedule to look forward to.

"Come in," he called when there was a solid knock on the door. Somehow Snape must have known he would still be awake.

"I thought you'd still be up. That was some exciting news you received," the professor said while walking into the bedroom and sitting down as he usually did at the desk. He had a somber stride to his walk and Harry knew bad news was coming. "There's something we need to discuss."

The Gryffindor's heart rate increased. What happened while he was unconscious? Was it another attack? He wasn't sure he'd be able to handle another person hurt or dying because of him.

"Ok... what happened?" The young wizard asked in a quiet, tentative voice urging the professor to continue.

"Have you remembered anything else from the day you got sick?"

That was such a random question, Harry had to think twice about it. When nothing else came to him, he shook his head "no".

"Well, something did happen that night," Snape said, taking a deep breath, trying to brace himself. "I said something that - taken out of context, as it was that night - could be interpreted completely wrong."

_Is he apologizing for something I don't even remember?_

"I don't understand. I don't remember anything happening between us sir," Harry said casually, "so does it even really matter much?"

"Yes Harry, it does," the professor explained confidently, "someday you might remember and if I'm not honest with you now, then it will be infinitely worse then."

That made sense, but it didn't make hearing about it any easier. Whatever could make Snape, of all people, this nervous was bound to be something bad. Deciding the professor was ultimately right about it being worse later, Harry nodded his head.

"I had just found out something - unrelated to your illness - that distressed me greatly... And Professor McGonagall stopped by for tea," the professor ignored Harry's chuckle, "she was asking how I was handling everything and I... I yelled..."

Snape paused so long Harry had assumed that was his big reveal, "No offense sir, but I've heard you yell before... at me plenty of times. Don't get me wrong, it's terrifying, but nothing that would really bother me."

"Harry," he continued, "it was what I yelled that is the issue. I said that regardless of how hard I'm trying, you were going to die. I did not mean how it came out at all."

Harry felt his heart clenching in his chest and his stomach felt like the floor dropped out from under him; that was a lot harder to hear then he had anticipated. How could Snape say that after everything they'd gone through? Worse yet, did he really believe it?

"I promise you Harry, I am doing everything I can to make sure that does not happen," the professor replied calmly, "no matter what I have to do, I will make sure you survive this."

"You said all that to Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes," Snape said, lowering his head in what Harry assumed was shame.

"I think it too sometimes," the young wizard admitted slowly. How could he not think that at least once, as he was sitting in the lavatory turning his stomach inside out, or trying to avoid the burning pain in his core, or even any of the other side effects he's experienced that he hadn't told Snape about - like the sores he sometimes gets in his mouth or the way his hands sometimes hurt both of which are common side effects according to Healer Smithe. "I know that chemotherapy isn't guaranteed to work; that I can go through all of this and die in the end anyways. I don't like when I think like that... some days it's harder than others not to. And if I think like that, then frankly, I know you - and probably everyone else - are bound to think it too."

"You are way too forgiving," Snape replied in disbelief of what he'd just heard.

"I think I've heard that at least once or twice," Harry gave a small smile to his mentor, "Besides, I think you're too hard on yourself."

"I've heard that a couple of times too. Thank you Harry," Snape went to stand up and leave, pausing when Harry grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Wait..." Harry stated loudly, "I have something to ask you."

Snape sat back down without another word, raising one eyebrow to signal for Harry to continue.

_Now's as good of time as any to ask._

"Erm," the young wizard nervously stalled, "Do you think I can go to the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts on Sunday?"

It felt odd for Harry to have to ask for permission about something like this, but he'd pretty much come to terms with it all. Snape was practically his parent, more so than even Professor McGonagall and she was his official guardian.

"Are you asking now since you think I will say yes simply because I feel guilty about what I said about you?" The professor narrowed his eyes at Harry, challenging his motives.

"Maybe..." he said in a sly, yet playful manner. "Isn't that what teenagers usually do to their parents?"

It slipped out so quickly and smoothly that Harry almost didn't notice he'd said it - that out loud he had referred to Snape as his parent - until he saw the look on Snape's face. It was a combination of fear and happiness that the Gryffindor had never seen before on this man. Harry felt himself immediately flush feeling far more vulnerable then he ever had in his life.

"I..." Harry started unsure what to tell Snape. He was going to say he didn't mean it, except that wasn't true and he knew Snape wouldn't believe him anyways. So instead he went with, "I'm sorry, it just slipped out."

"It is fine," Snape said and an uncomfortable silence sat between them. "And I'm sure something can be arranged for Sunday if you really want to be there. I've been working on some new charms and spells to help keep the areas around you clean."

"Thank you sir," Harry said, still embarrassed about his slip of tongue, yet quite impressed that Snape had been working on ways to prevent him from becoming ill. Again, it was something a father would do for his child.

Snape nodded and stood up slowly getting ready to walk out the door. With a smirk on his face he said to Harry, "And yes, teenagers do that to their parents all of the time. It will not always work with me. Good night Harry."

Feeling lighter than he had in years, Harry smiled and said, "Good night Severus."

~~~~SS~~~~

Thirteen days. Thirteen long and grueling days Harry remained mostly unconscious and fighting his way through the pneumonia. Now that he was getting better - a little more each day - and back home, Severus could start to sort through the complicated mess he had been left in prior to and during the pneumonia.

They had basically put a hold on any further investigation into Alton's activities with the Dark Lord, outside of having him under a constant guard of either Poppy, Albus, Minerva, or himself. Given their constant rotation and Poppy's casual request for more hands-on assistance with Harry's medication and procedures, he thought they did a fantastic job at keeping Alton in the dark on it all and keeping Harry safe at the same time. Harry's cousin threw them all off the broom, so to say, when he asked to stay at least until Harry recovered from the pneumonia. Somehow, Severus just knew that the boy would probably end up staying at least through the Christmas holidays. As long as Dudley would not be staying in Severus's quarters and he behaved towards Harry, it would be alright with the professor.

None of that mattered much tonight because Harry called him a parent... No, Harry called him _his parent_. Granted it was said accidentally, however that also meant Harry had been thinking about - perhaps going as far as accepting - the idea previously. Since waking up in this reality he'd questioned many times if he'd made the right decision; now he was confident it was the right thing to do. He was going to get Harry through the cancer and then he would find a way for both of them to survive this war.

Severus was just about to head off to bed when his floo roared and Albus's head was seen floating in the fireplace. From this location in his quarters, the former spy could choose to ignore the Headmaster's call and the other wizard would be none the wiser. Instead, he found himself walking over towards his employer.

"Yes Albus?" Severus called, "it's a little late for a social call is it not?"

"Ah Severus," the elderly wizard replied as if he were surprised who had answered, "may I come through?"

In response, Severus stood aside to allow the headmaster entry into his sitting room. Instantly, Albus walked out of the fireplace without even a hint of soot on his navy blue robes. For the first time, the man appeared appropriately dressed with crescent moons covering his robes.

"This could not wait for the morning because..." The defense professor trailed off clearly indicating he expected an answer.

"I'm afraid I owe an explanation to Healer Smithe about why I have been withholding Harry's magical records," Albus explained taking a seat in the armchair across from where Severus had just sat, "I have my ways of knowing that he plans to be at my office first thing tomorrow morning. We need to discuss how to proceed, my boy."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the former spy remembered that he had yet to mention the magical aptitude test to Harry. The Gryffindor obviously could not participate unconscious with pneumonia, therefore it had been rescheduled to the day prior to his next chemotherapy treatment. Theoretically, that would be his strongest day as it would be the longest from his last treatment.

"Let's assume the Dark Lord knows about the Leukemia," the former spy started deducing based on his observations and experience in Voldemort's presence. "Somehow - though it wouldn't be difficult in Alton's presence - the Dark Lord figured out that Harry was Alton's patient. Therefore, being blatantly honest, if Alton had _not_ told the Dark Lord about it, he would be dead. Ergo, he has to know about the cancer.

"Now this is where it gets complicated. His knowledge of the cancer probably means he knows about the chemotherapy, and even further down the pipeline is knowing about Harry's magical core issue. I cannot see Alton volunteering both of those pieces of information on a normal basis. However after his wife and daughter were kidnapped, it would be a good motivator to tell the truth of what was happening to his patient."

"So then I must deny the request," Albus simply stated, peering over his half-moon spectacles. "He cannot know the level to which Harry's magical core is depleting. It would be detrimental to the whole wizarding world."

_Especially because Harry's magic doesn't appear to be depleting._

"I don't completely agree. I feel that would actually work to our advantage," Severus explained, thinking quickly. He had to explain to Albus about Harry's unintentional magic, except another idea jumped to the forefront of his mind. "What if we falsify his records?"

"What good would that do for us Severus?" The headmaster was skeptical at best, yet he allowed his professor the opportunity to elaborate.

"Harry is - or he was - doing very controlled magic unintentionally. My suspicion is we will find his magic has strengthened, instead of weakened. Minerva is doing some _light reading_ to find out if and how that's possible."

Albus's eyes were moving back and forth as he went through each scenario. "If this is true, it is information we do not want Tom finding out."

"My thoughts exactly," the defense professor agreed. "If we were to falsify his records with a student stronger than Harry, we can then give the impression he's losing his magical core. In reality he'll be getting stronger."

Severus hated the idea of essentially using Harry as bait, but if nothing else, it would be a distraction to the Dark Lord; plus they could protect him from finding out the truth. Albus was silent considering the idea proposed. In the end, it was more important to prevent Voldemort from finding out about Harry's potentially stronger magic then about his failing magic.

"Ok Severus," the elderly wizard responded after a moment. "I'll swap Harry's previous record with yours for Alton's review and then after each assessment, you, Minerva, and myself will compare to his regular records. I want to closely monitor this 'unintentional magic' as you call it."

"Mine?!" The defense professor asked, questioningly completely ignoring the other statements. "Surely there is a better ranked student you could select."

"Oh I disagree," the headmaster answered with a smile, "I do not know many other sixth year students who were creating spells on his own; many of which are still used today by the general wizarding community - both recreationally and professionally I might add."

What else could he say to that? It was all true, though Severus would never admit so out loud. There would be no way the Dark Lord would ever know it was his previously loyal servant that was being used and if it ever got out, there wasn't any more risk to himself or Harry.

Nodding his approval, Severus then leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hand. It was pitiful that plans as these had to be made in the first place. Yet again, the professor found himself wanting to pick up and run away with Harry. It had been a long thirteen days and nights, the stress of which was getting to him. Harry was not the only one jubilant to hear that there could be a time where the Gryffindor would start to feel like his old self. The professor would even put up with the defiant teenager now just to have some sense of normalcy.

Of course that led his mind down another winding path... He had only bonded with Harry because of these extreme circumstances, what would happen as Harry started getting back to his normal life? _This Harry's_ normal life was a whole lifetime different from Severus's normal one. What would happen between them both in the classroom and outside of it, especially if - or when - Harry ended up back in Gryffindor tower?

"You are deep in thought, my boy," Albus commented whimsically. Somehow he'd forgotten the older man was still in his sitting room.

"Simply questioning what life will look like after all of this," he told his mentor honestly; feeling a weight lifted off of his shoulders as he admitted that simple statement. Perhaps Minerva and Alton were correct when they'd suggested he speak to a mind healer.

"Remember Severus, sometimes it takes a painful experience to make us change our ways," Albus said, his eyes twinkling as he looked towards Harry's bedroom. "I think you will find things will not be nearly as confusing as you fear they will be, my boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next: Going Home
> 
> Disclaimer: Dumbledore's last quote is not mine... I'm embarrassed to say I don't know for sure where it came from. It's possibly Proverb 20:29 or 20:30, but I can't find a solid source for it. If any of you know, leave me a comment and I'll update my disclaimer.
> 
> A/N2: There probably won't be another one until mid-next week. I've come to terms with having to re-read some of what I wrote just to get back into the right mind frame once I'm home again.


	34. Going Home

~~~~HP~~~~

Come Sunday morning, Harry was rejuvenated simply from the excitement of getting to go outside and see the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts that afternoon. The sun was shining through his enchanted window onto his bed and it looked like it was going to be a perfect day for it; not only because there was no way Snape would let him go if it were raining, but also for the students that would be flying. Katie Bell - who he had recently found out was captain this year - would say it was beneficial to test out the new prospects in the dreadful rainy weather, however Harry really didn't care about that at the moment if it meant he might be able to attend.

The only real lingering symptom - besides fatigue which was more normal for him than not - leftover from the pneumonia was the cough and Healer Smithe said it could last for the next several weeks. Until it was gone, every time he coughed it was a horrible reminder to both himself and Snape about the pneumonia and the two weeks Harry spent practically unconscious. As the young wizard got ready for the day, he hoped the lingering cough wouldn't lower his chances of Snape allowing him to go to the Quidditch pitch, at least for an hour; just enough to get some fresh air and sunshine.

The Gryffindor had been too afraid to jinx the whole thing, so he hadn't actually asked Snape about it at all yesterday, instead deciding to play it cool and simply worked through his mountain of school work he still had to catch up on. Even with the full day dedicated to his studies, he still would probably bring his muggle notebook, pens, and one of his textbooks to work from the Quidditch stands. No matter how hard he tried, there was no way he'd be able to get caught up before tutoring started again tomorrow. With a little of Hermione's help, he hoped to at least be able to understand the materials they'd be going over during the week and move quickly through his courses as time progressed.

In an effort to think positively, Harry came out for breakfast dressed in his Gryffindor Quidditch jumper, jeans, and a matching Gryffindor hat, as he knew his head would be cold regardless of how nice it looked outside. He had no doubt that if Snape wasn't going to let him go in the first place, then dressing in his Quidditch jumper would do nothing to change his mind, however it was worth a try. Snape was already in the kitchen drinking his usual cup of morning coffee while reading through a book Harry couldn't even guess the subject based on the cover; his plate of breakfast in front of him hardly touched.

"You can't tell me you miss cooking now that school started back," Harry commented casually taking his usual seat closest to the door. His plate was already full with scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast, along with a glass of juice, a glass of water, and his morning medications beside it. Apparently Snape was set on getting him back to normal eating this week.

"That depends," the professor replied, lifting his eyes from the text he was reading, obviously about to come back with a sarcastic comment until he saw Harry's clothing. He narrowed his eyes.

"Depends on what?" The Gryffindor asked, ignoring the pointed stare from Snape. Picking up a small bite of egg on his fork, he took an exaggerated bite.

"You look... festive this morning," the professor dryly answered.

Harry peered down at his jumper and shrugged; he wasn't about to let Snape's dour attitude pull him down today. If he did, he would probably end up lingering on how nervous he was to see his housemates again and he refused to let that damper his day.

"You are fully aware that you are still recovering from pneumonia while being immunocompromised, correct?" The professor precisely questioned.

"Pretty sure I can't forget something like that sir," the teenager replied without missing a beat. "But you said Friday night that you have a way to help clean the area around me, so I thought..."

"I do," Snape said going back to his reading. "I just want you to remember to keep your distance from people and stay warm. If it goes longer than two hours, Miss. Granger or your cousin had better return you to the castle."

Harry smiled; that sounded like a yes. Now if he could only keep his nerves in line until after lunch when the tryouts started.

"Thank you Severus," Harry said, continuing to eat the rest of his breakfast.

"You are welcome Harry," the professor said thoughtfully. "If it's no difference to you, I'll walk you down to the pitch to get the area clean and then you can come back with whichever combination of Gryffindor's already know the location of our quarters."

 _Huh_...

Harry hadn't thought about coming _back_ to the dungeons. He doubted he would be able to find the hidden door again, but trusted that at least Hermione and Neville would know because they needed to come for tutoring; though the latter probably wouldn't be at the Quidditch tryouts nor would he voluntarily enter the dungeons. Either way, if it came down to it he could always go up to the hospital wing and he was sure Madam Pomfrey would let him floo back down here.

"That's fine sir," Harry was late to reply as he contemplated his return to their quarters. Then he added, "Will you teach Hermione the new spell? This way she can help when I go back to classes?"

The Gryffindor could see the wheels turning in Snape's head as he considered this idea. Statistically speaking, Harry was bound to have a good idea every so often, not that Snape would ever admit to such an occurrence though.

"Of course," the professor agreed, "I'm certain Miss. Granger would have no issues learning it quickly. Now, until it's time to go down to the pitch, you're to continue your studying."

Excitedly, Harry nodded then went back to finishing his breakfast. Trying not to focus on how long the next several hours were going to creep by, he turned his attention to the book Snape was fanatically reading. The front was black with gold lettering written in a script he couldn't decipher from his position in the kitchen - most likely not a coincidence either.

"You could simply ask me," Snape said, flipping a page casually, then writing something down on the parchment to his right.

Shaking his head debating on if he wanted to take the bait, Harry decided to ask, "What are you reading?"

The professor placed the book down on the table appearing surprised that the young wizard had actually asked him after all. He raised one eyebrow then said, "It's a book on genealogy. Also known as the study of family histories and tracing of one's lineage."

 _I wonder if my family's in there?_ Harry questioned to himself. Surely at least the Potter's would be listed since they supposedly had a long history in the wizarding world. There was no way he was going to ask about it though.

_What family history would Snape be interested in studying?_

"Wizarding or muggle families?" The Gryffindor asked, "I'm assuming they keep those records separate."

"You would assume correct," Snape answered picking the book back up and reading through the page he had opened to, "however one should never assume; instead you should make an educated guess."

Giving a hard sigh, Harry finished the last of his buttered toast - making a dramatic effort to show Snape he had eaten - and took his medicine before getting up to start cleaning his plate at the kitchen sink.

* * *

It took Harry all of his might to stay focused on his school work leading up to the Gryffindor Quidditch trials. Originally, he started in his bedroom at the desk, then ended up studying on his bed, before finally moving into the sitting room to his place on the sofa. None of the locations helped keep his mind fully on his schoolwork.

Being still fatigued from his various illnesses, the young wizard fell asleep with his herbology textbook sprawled across his chest laying on the sofa. Luckily, Snape had been in a good mood most of the day and let him sleep until lunchtime. The two occupants ate together in a very conversational lunch discussing topics ranging from magical defense strategies to who was best rated to win the Quidditch cup, which Snape ceremoniously stated that without Harry - or presumably Ginny for at least the first part of the season anyway - playing seeker, the Slytherin's were definitely favored to win. What they didn't talk about was not missed by either person - Harry's new treatment schedule, Harry's cancer, Snape's duties for the Order, what happened non-medically in the thirteen days Harry was unconscious, or the upcoming magical testing. Harry didn't want any depressing topics to get in his own head bringing him down.

When there was only about a quarter-hour before they were set to leave, Harry could feel a cold sweat forming along his forehead and in his palms. He was on the sofa staring off at the wall trying not to think about anything and failing miserably. The only thought going through his mind was the reaction he was likely to get from his teammates. Somehow in his attempt to avoid thinking of that scenario, it was now the only thing his mind could focus on. Would they laugh at his lack of hair? Or maybe they would ignore him completely since The Chosen One was no longer healthy enough to save them?

Snape appeared in the floo as Harry was in the middle of his mini-panic attack and was just about to cancel the whole thing.

_Where has he been?_

"Are you ready?" The professor asked, keeping a keen eye on the young wizard.

"No," Harry admitted sheepishly, "I think this is a bad idea."

Snape's face was completely blank. After everything Harry had done to make sure he would get to see the tryouts, now he was backing out. Some Gryffindor he was; if he couldn't show his face to his own housemates, how was he going to manage when he was back in classes with the other houses? Or what about when he got to go back to eating meals in the Great Hall with all the years from all the houses?

"Fine," he eventually said when it was obvious that Snape had nothing to add to the conversation.

"That's good to hear because I've just spent the better of part of the last hour cleaning out the stands of the Quidditch pitch for you."

Demonstrating just how anxious he was, Harry jumped when a small piece of parchment unexpectedly appeared in front of Snape. Reading over the parchment, the professor narrowed his eyes, but went to the door to let in whoever dared to come to their quarters.

Harry - completely uninterested in the identity of their visitor - went to his bedroom to put on his trainers. It had been so long since he had needed to wear them that it took several minutes to find them buried at the bottom of his trunk. After a quick internal debate, he grabbed his red blanket from its neatly folded position at the bottom of his bed, unsure how cold it would be outside, or more specifically how cold it would feel to him outside. And just like that, he was ready to go.

As he was about to leave his room, he could hear murmuring coming from the sitting room. It sounded like more than one person was here and Harry hoped to Merlin it was not Malfoy; he was already dreading Tuesday's tutoring if he thought too far ahead for the week. He'd managed to avoid the Slytherin so far since he had no reason to be in the hospital wing when Harry was there, except now that he was back home it was more than possible the blonde would eventually stop by to see Snape.

Opening the door, he smiled when he heard the voices of Hermione and Dudley instead of Malfoy's. They must have come down to walk with him to the pitch as Ron would already be in the locker room getting ready and probably nervous as hell.

"Hey Harry," Dudley called out once he saw Harry emerge from his bedroom. The young wizard stopped short at the sight of Dudley holding a Gryffindor flag and simply raised his hand to greet his cousin.

"All set Harry?" Hermione asked, coming up and wrapping her arm around his shoulder. No matter how many times he and Ron joked about Hermione's elaborate greetings, he still loved that she did them.

"Yeah," he answered her nervously, "I thought I was meeting you guys there?"

It was Snape who answered his question, "I thought you'd feel more comfortable going down with your friends. I'll only cause an uproar if I'm anywhere near the Gryffindor trials. You needn't worry, I've made all the necessary preparations."

He was right, Harry rationalized to himself. The other Gryffindors would definitely think he was spying on their team selection, plus then Harry would have to explain why he was walking down with everyone's most hated professor. It would be a really bad way to start his reintroduction into the school again. He felt a wave of gratitude rush through him at the thought that Snape had considered not only ways to keep him physically healthy, but emotionally healthy as well.

"Thank you Severus," Harry said then grabbing his school bag - packed with homework to work on - he turned back to his cousin and Hermione, "Let's go."

The three of them walked carefully through the dungeons with Harry between them, wishing they'd floo'ed to somewhere outside of the Slytherin's territory to start. The last people he wanted to run into first was a group of aggressive Slytherins.

"How's Ron feeling about the tryouts?" Harry asked, navigating his way carefully through the corridors. It felt strange to be walking more than across the sitting room or down the hallway.

"He's nervous," Hermione said quickly, "he thinks without you on the team there's no way he'll make it again."

"That's ridiculous," Harry commented with a small scowl, "he had a good end to the season last year. He'll be fine."

Hermione stopped walking causing the two cousins to stop directly in front of her. She stared at Harry with her hands on her hips.

"It's Ron," she lectured, "when does he rationally think about things like this?"

"I know 'Mione," Harry said, pulling her forward so they could make it to the pitch before it filled up too much with spectators. "He should be happy. Without me on the team, he'll finally get to shine."

Both Hermione and Dudley laughed at that one. By this time, the trio had made it up out of the dungeons and as they were crossing the corridor to head outside, Harry could hear the loud echoes of students enjoying the beautiful day on this last afternoon of the weekend before classes started back again. With such great weather, Harry had expected he would have to encounter at least some students on his way out to the pitch. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, pushed the large oak door open, and they walked out onto the grounds.

The first thing Harry noticed was how fresh and crisps the air smelled as he inhaled deeply. After all that time indoors, he hadn't noticed now stuffy it had been in the dungeons. The second thing he noticed was how bright the sun was in his eyes and simultaneously how warm it felt against his skin. Yes, the enchanted windows helped bring the natural light, but it wasn't the same as feeling it. He was so engulfed in his other senses, he hardly took notice of the people around him.

"Hey Harry!"

"How's it going?!"

"Nice to see you!"

Without making too much of a big deal about it, he simply waved as the three friends continued walking on by and down to the pitch.

"Have you been down here yet Dudley?" Harry asked, this time not being able to miss the stares he was receiving - mostly from non-Gryffindors - even if no one was saying anything directly to him anymore.

"Yeah. Ron and Hermione brought me down here one day when Ron was practicing," Dudley replied as if this were completely normal, "Not going to lie, the flying creeps me out a bit."

Harry laughed. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever expect to be having a conversation like this with Dudley. And yet somehow it felt natural and something that he knew his mum would be proud of him for. That last thought made him smile because even though he never knew - and would never know - his parents, he still wanted to do things in his life that would make them proud of him. So far, he thought he was doing well achieving that overall, except for the Department of Mysteries... and maybe the Chamber of Secrets... and the Philosopher's Stone; he guessed they would not have liked him doing any of that stuff.

They were the first three people in the stands and Hermione led them over to where he assumed Snape had told her the area that had been magically cleaned for Harry.

As he had anticipated, the breeze made him shiver as he was sitting down and setting up some of his schoolwork to start. While it wasn't really that cold outside yet, he had lost such a significant amount of weight he didn't have as much body fat to keep him warm. He wrapped the blanket around him, but not before Hermione grabbed her wand and cast a heating charm on it to help him stay warm. Harry sat sandwiched between Hermione and Dudley, helping to keep him warm and protect him from prying eyes.

"What are you working on?" Dudley asked as Harry opened his notebook.

"Transfiguration," the young wizard answered, then thought about how nonsensical that sounded so he added, "the ability to change one object into another object."

"Why would you need that?"

"Erm..." Harry thought about a situation that might make sense to Dudley. He smiled at the example that popped into his mind, "Well, if you needed bandages because you're bleeding, you could transfigure your essay into one."

"Or you could just conjure them," Hermione explained looking over the essay Harry had written last night. "Which is still Transfiguration, but then you wouldn't have to redo your assignment."

Harry's mouth literally fell open. Why hadn't Snape done that instead of using his charms homework when his IV had pulled out?!

Turning back to Dudley, Harry corrected himself, "It's either transforming something from something else or creating something from nothing. Probably one of the more obscure classes we take, but I need to be an Auror... Which is a dark wizard catcher."

"Yeah," Dudley said, "I remember."

Hermione handed him back his essay with far less markings on it then he anticipated, "For not actually having an official lesson yet, it wasn't bad. If you expand the areas I pointed out, I think you'll get fine marks."

Harry could tell she was distracted as she kept looking out around the ground like she wanted to see the moment Ron came on the field. Given that he'd been secluded from them for most of the summer and the start of the school year, it made sense that they would inevitably get closer. However, seeing it so plainly in front of him was a little off-putting, like he was becoming their third wheel.

As Harry was working on rewriting his Transfiguration essay, adding in Hermione's more than helpful hints, the stands around him started to fill up. He was surprised to see more than just the normal Gryffindor-Quidditch crowd in attendance. In fact, there were students of all years from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff too. Coming up besides their little group was Neville, Luna, and Seamus, followed closely by Pavarti and Padma.

"Hey Harry," Neville said, taking the seat besides Dudley, while Luna sat on the other side of Hermione and Seamus sat down in front of Harry. Padma and Pavarti continued to another section of the stands after greeting Harry.

"Hi guys," Harry said, trying to sound as casual as he could. Leaning forward, Harry gave Seamus a playful punch on his shoulder and said, "You don't normally come to tryouts, what're you doing here?"

"Nah, but Dean's tryin' out fer Beater this yer," the Irish Gryffindor explained, "and from what I heard this is the only way we can make sure Snape hasn't turned ya inta potions ingredients yet."

Harry laughed, not taking what his former dormmate said to heart knowing it was in good fun. If nothing else, the fact that Neville spent time in Snape's quarters and came back alive was enough proof Harry wasn't about to perish on them.

"Glad to see you waited until it was a convenient time for you to check in on me then!"

"Oh, no Harry," Luna said whimsically and with a serious appearance upon her face, "I heard that if anyone asked a single thing about why you weren't in classes, Professor Snape said he would personally feed them to the giant squid."

Harry felt his face starting to flush. So much for no one making the connection that-

"How did you end up staying with Professor Snape?" His thoughts were interrupted by Luna's much too personal question.

Harry thought back to the beginning of his summer and how much had happened between them. It was too difficult to really explain.

"Professor Snape originally came to stay at my house back when Harry was first diagnosed," Dudley chimed in completely ignoring Harry's death glare. "He took care of Harry while he was really sick and brought him to all his appointments and-"

"It's... Complicated," Harry interrupted with - because frankly it was the truth - giving another glare at Dudley.

"That's so good Harry," Luna continued because either she couldn't tell how uncomfortable this made Harry or she didn't care; for some reason Harry suspected it was the latter. "You've always been so alone... And so has Professor Snape; you deserve a good home."

"Erm... thanks Luna," Harry said as Seamus and Neville tried unsuccessfully to hold back a laugh, "...I think."

Luckily, she didn't have any time for another question because the prospective players were all coming onto the pitch. Hermione immediately perked up watching Ron walking out not so confidently. Harry waved to get his best friend's attention and was rewarded with a small wave back.

Harry watched most of the tryouts instead of working on his homework assignments much to Hermione's chagrin. Of course, she wasn't nearly as focused on her reading as Harry knew she'd been in the past. No he wasn't imagining it, there was definitely something changing between her and Ron.

Regardless of how much Harry wished he was out there flying with his classmates, he cheered them on like nothing was bothering him. They had the start of a decent team after losing so many of their key players last year. Katie Bell was obviously returning as a chaser along with Demelza Robins - who Harry barely knew - and Dean Thomas. Katie selected two new recruits Ritchie Coote and Jimmy Peaked, to replace Fred and George; Harry wasn't completely sure how they'd do overall, but even he had to admit the pickings were slim.

When the time came for the Keeper tryouts, the stands had filled up, and Harry knew it would make Ron extremely nervous. With most of the people in the stands staring at him or whispering about him, the ill Gryffindor was feeling guilty for drawing so much attention, inevitably adding to Ron's nerves. If the redhead didn't make the cut, Harry would have himself to blame.

As the defender to the position - having had it last year - Ron was able to go last out of the seven prospects that came to try out. None of the first five applicants could save more than two goals apiece and Harry held his breath as Cormac McLaggen saved four penalties out of five. Somehow on the last one, McLaggen shot off in completely the wrong direction causing the crowd - including Harry - to laugh. It was such a random rookie mistake, no matter how much Harry wished to ignore it, he knew Hermione had to have gotten involved. Ron looked ready to pass out as he mounted his Cleansweep Eleven, but he really had no reason to worry as he proceeded to block all five of the goals earning him the spot on the team as Keeper.

Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to pay closer attention to this next part or block out the tryouts for his old Seeker position. Although, the more he thought about it, technically it was Ginny's position since he hardly played last year, making him feel marginally better about the situation. Katie was gathering all the potential Seekers together - most of who were second and third years - when he heard someone call from behind him.

"If it isn't Pitiful Potter," Harry didn't have to turn around to know it was either Crabbe or Goyle. He could never tell those apart to begin with, but from behind him was almost impossible. It didn't really matter in the end because neither of them should be watching the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts.

"What happened to you Potter?" The Slytherin called out with clear intentions to pick a fight. "You look like you're about to drop dead."

Harry whipped around and Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder as a physical reminder to him not to react. That really wasn't his style though, so instead he stood up and turned around now face-to-face with both Crabbe and Goyle; Malfoy was notably absent. Hermione, Dudley, Neville, Luna, and Seamus all stood up around Harry, except since the Slytherin's came up directly behind them, Harry was now front and center.

"Heard you can't do magic anymore Potter," Crabbe taunted as Harry got angrier with each passing second. "Not so good for the Boy-Who-Lived is it?"

"As usual, you're completely wrong. I _can_ do magic," Harry threatened, "I'm just not gonna waste any of my energy for you two idiots."

Harry was about to turn around and continue watching the Seeker trials - which were still ongoing having not heard the commotion from up in the stands - when one of the Slytherin bullies pulled off Harry's hat and threw it from the stands. Fighting off the embarrassment with as much Occlumency as he could manage, Harry shook his head from side to side.

"Is that really the best you can do?" He narrowed his eyes at the pair in front of him, "You're both pathetic!"

"And what are you going to do about it, Squib?" Goyle took a step forward and shoved Harry directly on his chest. After all this time he never really noticed the port in chest anymore and of course that happened to be exactly where one of Goyle's large meaty hands struck him and the small Gryffindor fell over backwards into the stands. Moving into his knees, Harry's hand clutched his chest and he winced as a sharp pain ran through his upper chest. Each time he breathed, the pressure around the port would sting in pain. At this point, the seeker trials had ceased and their group had a good amount of people watching around them.

Crabbe and Goyle started manically laughing. Without any other warning, all the friends around Harry brandished their wands at the same time. Dudley, who obviously had no wand to use, stood directly between Harry and the two bullies with his fists ready in a moment's notice. However before any of them could react, the two Slytherins were pushed back as if hit with an unexpected, extremely strong _stupefy_.

Hermione spun around, keeping a close eye on Harry who almost wasn't even paying attention to what had happened around him. Before she could say anything, Professor McGonagall showed up; making her way as quickly as she could through the crowded stands.

"Excuse me," she demanded, finally approaching the eight teenagers. The professor was looking between all of them trying to ascertain what had happened, however it was not difficult to tell. "What is going on over here?"

No one answered. Harry slowly stood up, hand still covering his port trying not to show that he was in pain. The professor peered down at Crabbe and Goyle unconscious on the stands, then looked back curiously at Harry. It was as if she knew he somehow was the cause of the situation. She pointed her wand at both boys and said " _Rennervate_ " to awaken them both. The two Slytherins jumped to their feet with their wands out in front of them, immediately recoiling after one glimpse at their Transfiguration professor.

"Miss. Granger and Mr. Dursley, please assist Mr. Potter to the hospital wing; I'm guessing Madam Pomfrey will want his healer to examine his injury," Professor McGonagall demanded. "The rest of you follow me, we'll be meeting with the headmaster and Professor Snape."

Harry was still between Hermione and Dudley as they made their way off the stands heading back towards the castle. Back at the Quidditch pitch, it sounded like the fight had broken back out with Seamus's and Goyle's voices being heard above the sea of talking. Harry wanted to turn back around to help his friends; in fact he would have in an instant if his port wasn't still feeling uncomfortable. Every time he breathed, the area would give a sharp pain that lasted only a second.

"Harry," she said warily, "did you do that? To Crabbe and Goyle?"

"I can't Hermione," the Gryffindor wizard explained, only partially believing what he was telling her, "Snape and Dumbledore have already figured out that my magic is going away. It has something to do with the chemotherapy, I'll fill you in on the details later."

"Well, I think they're wrong," Hermione said in a matter of fact voice.

Something about that statement broke all of Harry's reserve and he stopped in his tracks, still holding onto his chest. He was fuming mad and refused to look her in the eye knowing he'd never get to say what was on his mind if he did.

"So you think two of the best wizards at Hogwarts are wrong?" He yelled up towards her once she realized he had stopped following. "And of course, you're right about every little thing, so just because the great Hermione Granger says they're wrong, my magic _must_ _not_ be getting erased. Did you even think about how that might sound on my end of things?

"No? Well, let me fill you in. I know what I feel, ok? I know what Severus told me matches what I'm experiencing and I don't care what _you_ think because it sure as hell feels like my magical core is dying. But I guess since that's better than me dying, I just have to suck it up and deal with it!

"I don't know what happened to Crabbe and Goyle back there, but if it was me... that somehow I managed to nonverbally and wandlessly stun them, I hate that I wasted whatever little bit of magic I have left on those arseholes!"

At this point Harry was completely out of breath - still struggling with the after effects of the pneumonia - and fell back to the ground in a coughing fit. He tried to use his Occlumency to calm himself down and be able to breathe, but he was too worked up to do it successfully. Hermione sat down next to him and Harry immediately pulled himself away from her.

Once the Gryffindor wizard finally got some kind of oxygen to his lungs and brain, he stood up and started slowly marching himself, with Dudley two steps behind him, to the hospital wing. Hermione remained on the grassy lawn watching one of her best friends walk away angry.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus was having tea with Minerva - going over how they would be measuring Harry's magical abilities as well as their plan to provide Alton with alternate records to lay a false path for the Dark Lord - when Albus's Phoenix patronus interrupted them about a fight between their students on the Quidditch pitch. Severus was furious since he had specifically lectured his students about staying away from the pitch today, under the guise that the Gryffindors would then attend their own trials later in the week, to which he made clear he did not want this to happen. He was about to head straight there when Minerva told him to meet her at Albus's office and she would take care of the altercation.

"No offense Severus," she started, putting her on her cloak, "if you show up there, it's only going to make things worse."

He knew she was right, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Grudgingly, he stood and left for the headmaster's office. On his way there he tried not to think about what could have happened to Harry. While his platelet counts had come back up with the lack of chemotherapy, they still were not where a healthy teenager's should be. He briefly considered going to the hospital wing because if Harry were hurt that was where he would go, however he didn't know for a fact Harry had been injured, plus he had his duties as a Head of House that were already lacking lately.

"Good afternoon Severus," Albus greeted his defense professor, "I take it we are waiting on the students who were involved in the altercation?"

Severus nodded, "Any idea of the culprits?"

"Unfortunately, I believe it's Messrs Crabbe, Goyle, and Potter," the older wizard said with a sorrow deep within his blue eyes. "Before you get too unsettled about the situation, I feel it appropriate to tell you Miss. Greengrass alerted me to the possible situation after overhearing both of your students discussing it."

That was definitely an interesting turn of events. He assumed she would try to prove her loyalty in any way possible, yet choosing to do so against these two particular Slytherins was not the best course of action in the long run. Their fathers may not be as highly ranked in the Dark Lord's inner circle as himself - at least where he used to be - or Lucius, but they were high enough to draw unwanted attention.

"Foolish girl," Severus commented as he rubbed his forehead.

"I think it's quite clever my boy," Albus said turning his head in inquisitively. "Your new truce with Harry is making its way around the student body. What better way to stay in your good graces than to alert us that harm may be coming to him."

The former spy was trying his hardest to balance his responsibility to Harry, his students, and his colleagues; a feat that was challenging on even his best of days. He tabled his worry about Harry's well being for a moment to consider if Daphne Greengrass's admission could come back in a negative light.

It took Minerva twenty minutes to return to the castle and accompanying her were Crabbe and Goyle, along with Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Seamus Finnegan. Longbottom was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, whereas Finnegan appeared like he was ready to continue whatever had occurred down at the pitch, and as always Miss. Lovegood didn't even seem to notice they were in the headmaster's office to begin with.

"Who shall we start with?" Albus asked his students. When no one stepped forward, he continued, "Miss. Lovegood, if you'll be so kind as to explain what exactly happened this afternoon, it would be much appreciated."

"Of course Headmaster," the Ravenclaw started, "well, I decided after lunch to accompany Neville to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch trials. I don't pay much attention you see, so there was not a chance-"

"Thank you Miss. Lovegood," Albus interrupted, to which Severus was grateful so he did not have to be the one to do it, "however we only need the details relevant to the altercation involving Mr. Goyle, Mr. Crabbe, and Mr. Potter."

It took all of Severus's patience not to simply storm out of the room and deal with his students later.

"Ye see," Seamus Finnegan stepped up to explain. He had a bloody lip to which Severus silently questioned how he'd received it since no others appeared injured. "We were all jus fine until these two arseholes came up tryin' ta pick a fight. They said some things ta 'arry, but he didn't get mad until they pulled his hat off and then shoved 'im down inta the stands."

Minerva had to hold Seamus back, something that surprised Severus because he had not realized that the teen was so defensive to Harry. As for the actions of his own two students, unfortunately it didn't surprise him at all to see something like this occur. It was bound to happen once Harry made his way back into the student body when it was clearly evident he was ill. This in no way validated what they did and they would absolutely be punished for their abhorrent behavior.

"I dunno why Potter isn't here too," Crabbe mumbled, "he's the one who knocked us out."

Severus raised one eyebrow at that statement, choosing not to say a word. Stealthily meeting Minerva's eyes, the Transfiguration Professor gave a small nod to confirm the accusation. Friday's magical test could not come fast enough.

It took over an hour before Severus was able to leave Albus's office. If he could, he would have assigned his two students detention until the Christmas holiday; in the end though, his cooler side prevailed and recommended detention every night this week to be served with Mr. Filch. Of all the stupid things those two could do... of course could he really expect any less from them?

The most alarming part of that entire conversation was Harry's unintentional magic. In this particular situation, it very well could have been a bout of accidental magic - since Harry was both physically and emotionally threatened - except given that none of Harry's magic so far could be classified as accidental, the professor had to assume it was unknown, intentional magic.

He rounded the corridor leading to the hospital wing and heard Alton's voice from inside. If the healer was called, then either Harry was having a bleeding issue or it had to do with his port. There weren't really many other non-life threatening injuries that Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix; even by muggle methods at this point.

Getting his Occlumency shields firmly in place, the professor entered the hospital wing. Harry was in a bed on the left with his jumper removed showing two large purple bruises on either side of chest. They were clearly from where Goyle had - exceeding roughly - pushed Harry down. Severus questioned if his back was also bruised from where he'd landed, except the young wizard was laying down in the bed, so he could not see that yet. Healer Smithe was flushing out the port and had several bags of an unknown medication waiting to be used. Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey was shadowing Alton taking notes of each and every thing the healer used or had ready to use.

Next to the bed was Ron, still dressed in his Quidditch uniform and Dudley next to him. He took note that Hermione was not anywhere in the hospital wing, even though Minerva stated she was to accompany Harry to the hospital wing with Dudley. If Harry _and_ Ron were here, Hermione's absence was significant.

"What happened?" Severus demanded, masking his deepest concern for the young wizard in the hospital bed.

"He'll be alright Severus," Alton reassured the professor. "I've confirmed the port and catheter are still in place, which was the biggest concern. Outside of that, he's got some nasty bruises, so I'm going to start him on extra platelets."

Severus picked up all the bags laying across the table and confirmed they were indeed platelets to use to help Harry's blood clot.

"How are you?" He asked Harry now that he confirmed the teen's life wasn't in any danger. He placed his hand on Harry's left shoulder urging him to roll onto his side and said, "Let me see your back."

The Gryffindor rolled his eyes and turned over, "You heard Healer Smithe; I'm going to be fine."

"I did not ask how you are going to be," satisfied that the bruises on his back were no worse than the ones on his chest, he continued, "I asked you how you are now?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes again, Harry amended his statement, "I _am_ fine, sir."

There was that word again..."fine". He'd have to break Harry of that habit really soon if for no other reason than his loathing of the term and what it now represented.

"I'll give you one more chance; how are you right now?"

"I'm pissed off! Is that what you want to hear?" Harry yelled, struggling to explain his thoughts, "Things were actually going well and then... Then they had to say... those things... and then they... Did _that_..."

Severus knew Harry was embarrassed; not only from the hat situation, but the squib comment too. In his old reality, Harry rarely lost his control, unfortunately going through his counterpart's memories that had not always been the case for Harry here. This Harry had always had to deal with all of his complex emotions completely on his own.

"And then Hermione had to go and say-"

Harry clamped his mouth shut, biting his lower lip in the process. Whatever the Gryffindor witch had said, that would explain her absence; it must have been something bad enough to both keep her away and cause Harry to want her away.

"I've handled both Crabbe and Goyle," Severus reassured as he busied himself rechecking the bruising Healer Smithe had already gone over, "I'm sure Mr. Filch will find an appropriate detention for the two of them."

Harry huffed, "For some reason I highly doubt that sir."

It wasn't fair, but things in life rarely were; if anyone knew that simple fact it was Severus and Harry.

"I'm sure Professor McGonagall will make sure they get a particularly nasty detention," Ron spoke up; actually agreeing with Severus on something, "she won't let them get away with it."

_She better get in line._

"Whatever," Harry shortly replied, "Who got the Seeker position?"

Ron smiled, "Ginny did! Madam Pomfrey told Katie she should be all cleared by our first game. Katie wanted a backup just in case, but they all were pants at it. Hopefully Ginny's feeling better by then otherwise we'll forfeit."

Dudley gave a small laugh, "No pressure on her right?."

Ron started laughing too and Severus simply stared at Harry who didn't find it at all amusing. Knowing Harry as well as he did, he knew the teen would give almost anything to feel the pressure of that on him if it meant he could play Quidditch again.

~~~~HP~~~~

Madam Pomfrey wanted to keep Harry overnight for observation, to which Harry flat out refused and luckily Snape had agreed with him that he should be allowed back in their quarters no later than curfew that night. At dinnertime, the medi-witch forced the other two teenagers to leave for dinner, allowing Snape to stay as long as Harry ate his dinner without too much distraction. Like Snape, Madam Pomfrey was determined to get him eating regularly this week before chemo started again on Saturday.

Once Harry had taken a few bites of his roasted chicken, Snape started on a conversation that could not have come at a worse time.

"Alton would like to test your magical strength on Friday," he stated without giving any room for Harry to argue back. "Professor McGonagall and I are coming up with a series of tests you can try to do that will allow us to compare your current level to your previous years'."

"In hopes that you can estimate how long it will take my magic to completely disappear?" Harry bluntly asked. No need to sugar coat it, which is exactly what Snape sounded like he was doing.

"Harry," the professor said, placing his hand on the Gryffindor's shoulder and giving a small squeeze, "whatever happens, we'll get through it. I promise you, you will not be left behind. If that means we both go away for a while, I'm prepared to do that."

"Hermione-thinks-you're-wrong," Harry blurted out so fast he wasn't sure Snape heard him. Taking it slower he clarified "You and Dumbledore... I think that she thinks my magic is somehow growing... or at least not going away."

Harry could see the confliction in his mentor's eyes, while trying to keep the pleading from his own. He obviously wanted Hermione to be right knowing that it was impossible though. He wouldn't have that awful pain whenever he got the chemotherapy if his magic was growing instead.

"I'll have a talk with Miss. Granger about her suspicion," Snape said after a solid minute of silence. "We've talked about this Harry. I don't want to give you false hope, the situation has not changed and the odds are not in your favor."

Swallowing back the tears that he could feel building up at the corners of his eyes, the young wizard looked away. Out the window to his right, he could see the last of the students holding off going to dinner so they could spend time in the remaining sunshine before returning to the castle for the night. They were enjoying their last carefree hours of the weekend before the pressure of classes, homework, and tests started in the morning. None of them were worrying about Voldemort attacking, none of them had to think about what they'd do if they lost their magic, and none of them had a disease circulating in their bloodstream actively trying to kill them.

Harry was so lost in his negative thoughts, he completely missed Malfoy entering the hospital wing until he saw Snape stand up from the corner of his eye.

"Meet me back at my office when you're through," the professor told Malfoy, drawing Harry's attention to them, "we have something of importance to discuss."

"Of course professor," the Slytherin said taking the seat Severus had vacated.

"I'll come by to help you back to our quarters once Madam Pomfrey officially releases you," Snape said to Harry before quietly walking around the curtain partitions and leaving.

"Come to gloat?" The Gryffindor asked aggressively.

"Hardly," Malfoy claimed, leaning forward to rest his arms across his knees, "What Crabbe and Goyle did was tasteless. Even I wouldn't sink that low."

Harry glared over not at all convinced with what Malfoy was saying.

"Besides," the Slytherin continued, "who do you think tipped off the headmaster that there was a problem?"

"It wasn't you," somehow Harry managed to keep the surprise from his voice.

"Not exactly, but it was a fellow Slytherin," Malfoy looked up at the ceiling before continuing, "we're not all evil you know."

"I never claimed you were, but what Crabbe and Goyle did was pretty close," Harry responded cautiously, not wanting to get backed into a corner.

"You and the rest of the school don't need to say a word about it; it's obvious what people think of us," Malfoy explained. "And I'll let you know that by judging us like that makes you all no different than how the Death Eaters think about muggles and muggleborns."

The statement hung between the boys like a thick, hazy cloud of dust. Harry didn't want to think it, nevertheless it was the first place his mind was taken-

_He's right._

It was a viewpoint Harry hadn't considered. Were they being just as prejudiced to all the Slytherins as Voldemort and his followers were to muggles and muggleborns? He'd heard Snape say that one of the reasons he joined the Death Eaters was because he wanted some kind of vindication against his father, meaning he had judged the other muggles he killed based on his experience with his father. It was wrong and something Harry stood vehemently against, and yet here he was getting accused of doing the same thing to the Slytherin students. The realization did not leave a good feeling in his stomach.

"You're right," Harry eventually said because no matter how he'd tried to turn the situation around, he couldn't. "I shouldn't judge your housemates based on my experience with _you_... Or Crabbe or Goyle or Nott.

"So if you're not here to gloat, why are you here?" The Gryffindor asked.

"Whether you believe me or not, I'm coming to check on you. The last time we spoke before you ended up here with-"

"Pneumonia," Harry interrupted seeing as his classmate was having a hard time finding the right word.

"And how's that different than the Leukemia?" There was something in Malfoy's eyes that convinced Harry the Slytherin was legitimately interested to learn about his illness.

"Depends," the Gryffindor challenge, "did you find out about what Leukemia is on your own or are you trying to trick me into telling you?"

"That's fair," the blonde conceded. "Once you gave me the name, finding the information wasn't difficult to do. You have a muggle disease in your blood; I read all about it."

"And you didn't melt from touching a muggle book? How shocking," Harry mocked. "The pneumonia was an infection in my lungs. The medication to kill off the Leukemia makes it harder for my immune system to fight off any other illness. Professor Snape thinks it was from all the students returning into the school."

And suddenly another weight was magically lifted off Harry's shoulders without him even knowing it was there. He'd spent so much time angry at the teenager in front of him that for however short it lasted, he was willing to let things go between them.

Randomly, Harry remembered one of his final thoughts from their last tutoring session; that if he keeps pushing Malfoy, the spy may change his alliance back to Voldemort. Why would the blonde want to continue helping the Order if he was always being criticized and ostracized? In that moment the Gryffindor decided to take it upon himself not to let that happen. If Snape could put even a little of his trust in Malfoy, Harry could give him a little more wiggle room too, while still keeping a close eye on the Slytherin.

"If you hadn't heard yet," Harry started, "you're going to get another year against Ginny as seeker."

Malfoy gave a small smirk, "Not like that's much better. I have a feeling Quidditch will be at the bottom of my priorities this year."

"That makes two of us," Harry agreed, "I'm hoping I'll get to at least see the matches this year."

And just like that, the two wizards - both so similar and yet so different at the same time - put aside their past grievance to have their first real conversation as peers. They talked about the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Quidditch teams, classes for the year - specifically their agreement that the new Potions professor was insanely boring, and finally about Harry's cancer, the chemotherapy, and oddly - to Harry at least - what he thought of Healer Smithe. Harry never picked up that Malfoy had previously spoken about all of that with Snape; that the other boy was talking about it primarily to help release Harry from the burden of his illness.

Malfoy left around seven that evening and Harry got back to working on the revisions to his transfiguration essay. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was going over the conversation he had with Malfoy; amazed with how natural it was, how much lighter he felt inside now that Malfoy knew all about the Leukemia, and still unsure why the other boy had asked so much about Healer Smithe. He was slowly coming to the realization about how much he really depended on the people around him, and not just his closest friends. Now he just needed to patch things up with Hermione and he would have plenty of time to do that tomorrow when she was over for tutoring.

When Snape came back to the hospital at half past nine, Harry had his school bag packed and was ready to go. Snape on the other hand appeared exhausted; much more than he had even when they were both back at Privet Drive. Harry questioned how the man was holding up with all of this, except knew Snape would never confide in him. The young wizard decided to ask Professor McGonagall at his lesson because if anyone could get through the hard outer exterior of Snape, it would be her.

"All set?" Snape asked, picking up Harry's school bag from the floor besides the bed. "Madam Pomfrey has reluctantly released you back into my care."

Harry nodded, swinging his legs over the side of the bed so he was now in a sitting position in front of the professor. He was nervous and thought about it twice before he asked, "Everything go ok with Malfoy?"

Raising one eyebrow, the former spy did not have to say a word for Harry to know it wasn't any of his business.

"Ok fine... It's none of my concern," Harry mocked lifting his hands in the air to show he was giving in. He stood up directly in front of Snape meeting the professor's onyx eyes with his bright emerald ones, "Can we go home now?"

At that simple question, the edges of Snape's lips pulled upwards into a quick, small smile.

"Yes Harry," he said, placing his arm around the Gryffindor's small shoulders and guiding him to the medi-witch's office to use her floo, "Let us go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next: The Plan


	35. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and gave kudos!

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_Severus and Harry had only been home to Spinner's End for less than a week after the school year ended a fortnight ago. First walking into the recently renovated house felt somewhat ceremonial as it was the first time they'd returned after the adoption became official only three months ago. He'd left for Harry's second year of school this past September not having a clue that he'd return as Harry's father. It was an odd, yet satisfying feeling; like somehow the universe aligned and this was exactly how his life was supposed to go all along._

_The Potions Master had just walked into his home from a quick shopping trip to gather the last minute necessities they would need for the upcoming holiday Severus had planned. He would never admit that he was nervous to be taking Harry away just the two of them. It was not something he would normally do on his own, however he wanted to give Harry - his son - the kind of experiences that had been withheld from him during his time living, or more accurately imprisoned, at the Dursleys. This trip - and this location - was a perfect way to start their summer._

_"Come in," the young wizard called from the other side of his bedroom door._

_Sitting up in his bed, Harry had a book laying across his lap. Hedwig was perched in her cage and ruffled her feathers, giving a small hoot when the door opened; she seemed to enjoy her new home. Severus placed the bag onto the top of Harry's bed._

_"We're going away for a week or two," he explained to the Gryffindor, "I expect you to be packed and ready to go in the morning."_

_As predicted, Harry didn't hide his skepticism, "Where are we going?"_

_"You'll see in the morning," Severus replied "Pack casual clothing and a pair of swim shorts."_

_"We're going swimming?" Harry asked with a smirk that immediately fell, "I don't have swim shorts."_

_Lifting up the bag he had placed on the bed, the professor replied, "Now you do. Get packed."_

_Early the next morning, the portkey Severus arranged took them almost all the way to the cottage he rented for the two of them. Once they landed - or fell in Harry's case as it was his first time using a portkey - the moist sea air instantly brought Severus back to one of his best summer memories from his own childhood._

_"Where are we?" Harry asked, walking out from the narrow space between two stone buildings and looking around the village they had arrived in._

_"Aberdaron... in Wales," the Potions Master replied, taking a left and walking confidently down the street._

_Severus could see Harry looking around in amazement as they continued their journey. Severus was not normally a sentimental man, nonetheless watching Harry reminded him of his own first visit to this same town; his excitement to leave Cokeworth if only for four days and to see the ocean for his first time. It had been years since he'd been here, and walking down the familiar streets with Harry helped to heal a wound so deep within him that he'd long gotten used to always being there._

_It was less than a ten minute walk to get to their first destination, most of which was spent walking in silence. They finally approached a small white building with a bright red door._

_Before opening the door, Severus turned to Harry and said in a quiet voice, "Please remember this is a muggle town. Keep your wand on you at all times, but under no circumstances should anyone see it. And it goes without saying that you cannot perform anything with it."_

_"That's not a problem sir," Harry replied almost smiling._

_Nodding, Severus opened the door and gestured for Harry to go in first. The professor greeted the older woman who was checking them in, all the while Harry went looking around at the old artefacts and history of the town that was on display around the room. With the keys to their cottage in hand, Severus called Harry to head out until they were stopped by the innkeeper._

_"Do let me know," she started giving Severus's arm a soft pat, "if you or your son should need anything during your stay Mr. Snape."_

_"Thank you very much," Severus politely replied before continuing to walk out the door; sure he would never get used to Harry being called his son._

_They continued walking until they reached a steep hill with a winding dirt path leading up to a faded yellow cottage. Severus turned when he noticed Harry had stopped following behind._

_"Is everything alright Harry?" The professor asked._

_"Yes sir," the young wizard replied with a small quiver in his voice. "I..."_

_"It's just at the top of this hill," he told the young nervous wizard. "Trust me, the view is worth the hike."_

_Severus nodded his head as he helped lead Harry up the hill and towards the small house. He knew it wasn't the hike that was causing the Gryffindor's hesitation. Harry was feeling overwhelmed with the reality that someone wanted to take him on a holiday. It was the exact same way Severus himself felt when he came here... with Lily's family. His first ever holiday._ _He had been so shocked when Mr. and Mrs. Evans had invited him on their family trip after their third year and even more shocked when his mother allowed him to go. They spent the entire time on the beach and swimming in the sea; it was one of the most relaxed he had been in his life._

_Severus had been correct that the view was worth the hike, however for him it was not the stretch of beach against the blue sea; it was the look on Harry's face the moment he first saw the sea. From up on the hill, the sea breeze passed through Harry's always messy black hair and the almost teenager looked completely carefree. The Gryffindor closed his eyes and took a deep breath of sea air._

_"This is brilliant Severus!"_

_The pair ended up extending their stay until the week after Harry's 13th birthday, where they celebrated seaside at the more secluded Porthor beach and Harry was able to experience the whistling sand when he slid his feet across it in just the right way. The trip had been filled with laughs, stories about Lily and her parents, and discussions about both the previous school year and the one coming up. Harry fell in love with the sea - claiming it to be his favorite place outside of home and Hogwarts - and Severus, not realizing that Harry did not know how to swim, taught the young wizard to swim. It was a perfect holiday for them both._

_The only damper to their first family holiday was the night Severus saw an all-too-familiar face splashed across the muggle news at a cafe near the Aberdaron beach. Sirius Black had somehow escaped Azkaban; or prison according to the muggle news. There was no doubt in the former spy's mind that Black would be coming after Harry. His insides burned with hatred for the man that not only bullied him as a teenager, but also who's betrayal killed Lily. With any luck, the mutt would go to Little Whinging first, knowing that Harry would have been left with Lily's sister after the Potter's deaths. He would never be able to find Harry with the Fidelius in place at Spinner's End, which meant that their beach trip had to come to an end. It was time to go home._

_Once they were finished packing up the cottage; finding the random book out on the front porch or parchment and quills stuffed between the sofa cushions from when Harry decided to work on his summer assignments, they both sat outside looking out to the sea one last time._

_"Thank you Severus," Harry said, turning his head to look at the man who rescued him from his old life and was helping him rebuild this new one together. "I really appreciate you bringing me here."_

_"You are very welcome Harry," the Potions Master said, "We'll be back, I promise."_

_What Severus did not know was that they would never make it back to Aberdaron. The next two summers would be spent with the Quidditch World Cup, followed by a summer dedicated to a complicated commissioned project in addition to Aunt Petunia's funeral, and their final summer together they would spend tweaking potions to try to cure the Leukemia that was - even now - secretly held within Harry's blood waiting to wreak havoc on his body. Severus would plan to bring his son back to celebrate both the teen's 17th birthday and remission to the cancer he would fight hard against, however they would never make it because they would both be gone by then - Harry to the cancer and Severus to a new reality... a reality where a boy, who was not his son, was now sitting away locked up in a room that was not his own hoping to be ignored and thinking that would make it the best summer ever, instead of sitting next to his father getting ready to go home after his first real holiday._

~~~~SS~~~~

"I take it there was not any issue with our plan of action," Albus asked his defense professor first thing Monday morning before the start of his sixth year defense class; Severus had decided to pick up his classes again this week alongside Harry.

"Of course there wasn't," he replied with a smirk upon his face. "Did you honestly expect otherwise?"

Yesterday he met with Draco regarding the next mission the Order needed his assistance on. The former spy was finally able to convince Albus and the Order to start planning a rescue mission for Sarah and Mary Smithe, assuming they were even alive anymore. Albus had met individually with each member that would be directly involved in the mission to start putting everything into motion.

Severus's first part included finding out where Alton's loyalties lie; a task he had been trying to determine, however now that Harry had mostly recovered from the pneumonia it became a higher priority. The professor had been observing Alton since they discovered he had been compromised, nevertheless he still had very little substantial evidence to determine if he'd acted of his own accord or not. It could go either way, yet Severus's instincts still told him that Alton ultimately was on their side and was being coerced into helping the Dark Lord.

The initial plan was that the Order would be putting together two teams for the rescue mission; a tactical team and a reconnaissance team. Moody was leading the tactical team that would be the group stealthily infiltrating the Dark Lord's headquarters and actually rescuing the two muggles, while Severus was leading the reconnaissance team who was responsible for gathering the intelligence and would be staged as the watch post during the mission. Since his spying had ended earlier in the summer, Severus was anxious to get back into the field, though he would never openly admit to it. His nervous energy lately had been getting to him and this would be a good outlet to focus it on.

Naturally, Draco was part of the reconnaissance team. The Slytherin's role was to work directly with Moody - to which the new spy did a decent job at keeping his facial expressions neutral even though Severus knew how excited he was over the opportunity - to map out every passageway, opening, exit, and guard in Malfoy Manor. This would become the map the tactical team would use to plan and execute the rescue; giving Draco his leap of faith and trust from all members of the Order. Unfortunately, Severus had the suspicion that should the smallest detail be incorrect and the mission fail - specifically if there were any loss of life to their side - Draco was being set up for the fall out, which the professor was dead set on preventing at all costs.

"It's a lot of responsibility for young Draco," the headmaster commented casually as he sat behind his desk that was littered with parchment. Severus briefly wondered what kind of work Albus did all day when he wasn't orchestrating the fight against one of the darkest wizards of their time. He imagined it was rather tedious and political - two things the former spy hated the most.

"He's up to the challenge," Severus casually replied. During all of this he questioned to himself how a student could have gotten wrapped up in this mess and he was hating himself for his role in it. "Now Moody on the other hand..."

The professor trailed off knowing Albus would follow his train of thought. Moody distrusted Draco almost as much as he did Severus, and that was mostly based on his not so misguided distrust of the Malfoy's in general. It was a battle the blonde would always face and perhaps success with this mission could achieve two goals - rescuing the Smithe's and better aligning Draco with the Order for future assignments. It would definitely help pave the way forward to a better future for Draco.

Harry, he suspected, would have an issue with this plan. Even though neither wizard had explicitly discussed where they stood with each other, it was obvious that Harry had started to depend on Severus and would likely be unhappy with him going straight into the Dark Lord's headquarters. He tabled that thought in his mind for now to focus on the present; apparently he'd miss whatever Albus had just said.

"What's on your mind Severus?" his mentor asked, bringing the younger professor back to the present.

"I'm considering how this will impact Harry," Severus said honestly.

"When Harry finds out that two innocent muggles are being held captive, possibly to influence his healer to provide information or access directly to him, I suspect he'll want to join Alastor in the battle," Albus gave a small smile. He was completely right of course, Harry never backed down from a fight against those in danger. That was another one of his Gryffindor traits that would make him an awful Slytherin.

"Unfortunately very true," Severus said, meeting Albus's blue eyes.

"But you expect he won't be happy about you in the field," the headmaster took a guess.

"We've never discussed my job within the Order, so I'm unsure of his reaction," a pained expression crossed his face with the blatant lie.

"Ah, but that's not true is it my boy," Albus said factually, leaving no room for interpretation. "We both know Harry would be devastated should something happen to you on this - or any - mission."

"This was not an issue in my old life where the Dark Lord had stayed dead," Severus spat out frustrated with himself more than anyone else. "What am I supposed to do? Abandon everything I can actually do to help us win this war? Where would that leave Harry? I don't care about some asinine prophecy, he should not be left to handle this alone; he's sixteen for Merlin's sake!"

"Of course not," Albus said calmly. He stood and Severus mirrored him, knowing if he stayed any longer he'd be late for his first class. "Have you heard anything from Alton about Harry's magical records?"

The professor shook his head, "Nothing, meaning he hasn't questioned its authenticity. I've briefed Minerva and we will discuss the real results on Friday while Alton is comparing his tests to the falsified record. Hopefully we'll have a better picture of Harry's magical ability at that point."

Nodding his head in agreement, the headmaster turned towards one of the many bookcases in the room. Taking that as his dismissal, Severus went to leave, but was stopped right before exiting.

"One more thing Severus," the elderly wizard said, "do you know if Alton Smithe is marked?"

It seemed quite obvious that had he been bearing the Dark Mark, Severus - a former Death Eater - would have known by now. To give the headmaster the respect he deserved, the professor went back through his memories - from both realities - to try and determine if he could say without a doubt that the healer was not marked. Unfortunately, nothing stood out one way or the other.

"I do not believe he is," Severus answered, "it's definitely a good place to start. Thank you, Headmaster."

How could he not know something as simple as if Alton carried the Dark Mark? He, himself, didn't go around flaunting his mark, so it was definitely possible Alton had been hiding the mark this whole time. If that were true, he might as well turn in his resignation now because something so obvious should never have escaped his keen observation skills.

The professor stormed into his classroom mere minutes before the students usually arrived. Pulling out the notes from Tonks to familiarize himself with where they ended last week, he lifted his head when two gasps were heard. Based on the shocked faces of Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones - who were the first and second students to arrive - Tonks had not announced her departure from the post and that Severus would be taking over his class yet again.

_This should prove to be a fun class._

Once all the students were obediently in their seats with their essays handed in - which the professor briefly considered sending to Tonks for marking - he paired them off to practice nonverbal shielding spells. Given what happened at the Quidditch pitch yesterday, he uncharacteristically made sure not to pair any Gryffindor student with a Slytherin student, less he be prepared for bloodshed; and it would be a toss-up as to where the blood would come from. Even with his precautions in place he wasn't at all surprised when the arguments started in the first half of class.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Draco yelled across the room when a stray jinx - verbally he noted - went flying from Ron, Hermione, and Neville's group over to Draco, Pansy Parkinson, and Theodore Nott's group.

"That's for what your goons did to Harry yesterday!" Ron spat back, taking full responsibility for the stray jinx.

"Excuse me; I think your aim was a little off there," Draco called sauntering over towards the Gryffindors. "Did you even hear yourself? You said my goons which does not mean _me_."

Ron straightened up taller as the Slytherin approached, "If you think for a second I believe you had nothing to do with it-"

"Don't get me wrong Weaslbee," Draco laughed sardonically with a look of disgust across his face, "I wish I had been there to see it; bet it was hilarious to watch The Chosen One scramble all around. He got what he had coming to him, but Crabbe and Goyle acted all on their-"

"That's enough," Severus called, sweeping across the room to stand directly between the two students. "Mr. Weasley, under no circumstances are you to attack a fellow classmate-"

"Isn't that kind of the whole point of this class?" Ron interrupted with a mumble. The rest of the class physically took a step back away from their professor as the anger radiated from him.

" _You_ were supposed to be practicing _non-verbal_ spells with Mr. Longbottom and Miss. Granger, not at Mr. Malfoy. And I clearly heard your _Flipendo_ from my desk on the other side of the room," Severus said between gritted teeth emphasizing the last five words, "That will be 25 points from Gryffindor and detention. Now everyone back to work!"

Ron's face turned bright red in anger, but Severus knew he wouldn't get another peep out of the teen for the rest of the class.

Overall, once Ron had gotten whatever that was out of his system, the rest of the class continued smoothly. There were little comments here and there, mostly stemming from the Slytherins to the Gryffindors after Ron's attempted attack. He walked around the room making corrections as needed to posture or wand movement while keeping a close eye on each group.

"Mr. Weasley," he called when class was ending, "please stay behind after class to discuss your detention."

As expected, Ron groaned and told his friends to go on without him; that he would meet them at their next class.

"Yes, professor?" Ron asked as he approached the professor's desk. Severus hated dealing with the immaturity of students, especially the older years who knew better than to act as Ron had in his class. He usually enjoyed the N.E.W.T classes as a reprieve from this type of immaturity.

"I don't expect to see any more of that blatant disregard for the rules from you, understood?" he lectured to which Ron merely nodded. "While your loyalty was in the right place, this was not the time to act upon such instincts."

"I'm sorry professor," Ron mumbled more than a little confused about Severus's attitude towards the incident.

"I will not be having you serve detention," Severus started, but raised his hand to stop Ron from interrupting, "however I will ask you to instead write an essay on what you think the phrase _keep your friends close and your enemies closer_ means specifically during times of war. I expect the appropriate textual references included."

"Are you calling Malfoy my enemy?" The Gryffindor asked, even more confused.

"As a professor, do you think I would say something like that?" Severus answered. "I simply think you can use a reminder in subtle and strategy."

Severus reached out and handed his student a note excusing his tardiness from his next class. Ron grabbed the note and his bag, then turned to leave.

"And Mr. Weasley?" The defense professor called out before the redhead reached the door, "I think Harry would be appreciative if you could have dinner with him tonight."

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry had been nervously pacing most of the day as his transfiguration lesson with Hermione wasn't until the hour and half before dinner. He knew he'd annoyed Snape that morning from his nervous tapping of his hand and foot against just about any surface he could find during breakfast. In fact, Harry was sure that the professor made up the early morning meeting with Dumbledore just to get away from him and his nervous energy.

Neville's Herbology lesson was easier than expected, mostly because he'd really focused on Herbology and Transfiguration over the weekend in preparation for today's lessons. Neville filled Harry in on what happened when he'd gone to the hospital wing yesterday and the rest of the students went with Professor McGonagall. Harry made a mental note to ask Snape if Crabbe and Goyle could serve their detention with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest. With any luck, those two gits would be so traumatized they wouldn't come anywhere near him anymore.

By lunchtime, Harry had managed to work himself back up over the incident yesterday. So what if they humiliated him? Why should he care at all what they did? It's not like everyone couldn't already tell he had no hair. Even with a hat on, it was quite obvious his black, messy hair that usually stuck up every which way was missing. By now he was sure everyone would know he had cancer, if they didn't already know it was Leukemia. Then there was the stunning spell; who did that for him? Hermione was so sure it was him, but how could he do magic without knowing it? Even when he'd done accidental magic growing up, he could definitely feel the magic flowing through him even if he didn't know what it was at the time.

He'd finally come full circle and had exhausted himself emotionally when the parchment appeared in front of his face to announce Hermione's visit. He smiled when in addition to Hermione's name he also saw _Ronald Weasley_ and _Dudley Dursley_ written on it. Running to the door - something he rarely had the energy to do normally - he pulled it open to see his two best friends and cousin waiting to come in.

"Hey guys," he said, gesturing them inside. "What's with the party?"

"Snape thought you could use the company today," Ron said, getting ready to sit down onto the sofa, before Dudley elbowed him in the ribs. "Oh right, I think we're going to study a bit in Harry's room, I have this essay for Snape... Y'know... And we'll let you two..."

Not even trying to hide their intentions, Ron and Dudley walked back to Harry's room leaving him alone with Hermione. She had set out all of their Transfiguration notes like she was fully prepared to keep this all business.

Taking a deep breath, in an attempt to be mature about the situation, Harry said, "I'm sorry 'Mione."

The young witch paused her nervous stacking of notes, peered up at Harry and immediately started spewing out quickly, "I'm the one who's sorry Harry. I should know how sensitive you must be over your magic. I didn't mean it to sound like I knew better than the professors. Of course they have more experience then I do, it's just that-"

"I wish you were right Hermione," Harry sat down on the sofa next to her talking very seriously, "but if I give myself even a little bit of hope and then I'm wrong, it will feel so much worse. At this point, I'm just trying to accept that I'll lose at least some of my magic... You know, be prepared for the worst. "

"I understand Harry," she said sympathetically.

"No, you really don't," he answered her honestly. "If you understood, you wouldn't have said anything about it in the first place. No one can really understand what this feels like ok? So can we just move on and start on our lesson please?"

"Yeah," she said, opening her textbook, "Did you hear Ginny's back? She was at the Great Hall for breakfast this morning..."

But Harry didn't say anything to that. Of course he was happy Ginny had recovered and hoped she would be able to put it all behind her and still have a great fifth year. If somehow the fates only allowed one of them to win their battle, he absolutely wanted it to be her.

Despite their current frigidness towards each other, Hermione perfectly explained the lesson on human transfiguration. It was complicated and Harry doubted that even if he could use magic that he would be able to do it correctly, however she made sure he knew the theory in its entirety. He questioned to himself how much these theory-only classes were actually helping him and not simply filling up his day. Would he realistically be able to jump back into the practical part once he was allowed to use magic again? Probably not without some extra tutoring on top of his normal classes. Even a more depressing thought was that if he had three years of chemotherapy, it would last for a year beyond his time at Hogwarts; meaning he definitely couldn't take N.E.W.T.s on theory alone, so was all of this just a waste?

Right on time, Ron and Dudley came out of Harry's room to meet them for dinner. The kitchen table was set for four that night, something that Harry was grateful for. While he was physically feeling better, these were the hardest times to be quarantined away. He was pretty sure his immune system was now strong enough to stand at least being in class, but he dared not ask Snape about that already knowing the answer he'd receive.

"So Dudley," Ron asked, trying to diffuse some of the tension that could be felt around them, "how long are you staying at the castle?"

"Well," the muggle said casually, "I wanted to stay at least until Harry was better from the pneumonia, so I dunno now."

"If you can, I think you should stay," Harry spoke up without even realizing he'd said it. "Honestly, it's probably safer here for you too. With Voldemort actively trying to get to me, it's only a matter of time before he goes after you."

Harry hadn't thought about that until this very moment - all he knew was that he wanted Dudley to stay - and he now felt guilty for having left his cousin at risk. What would he have done if Voldemort had killed him? Or captured him until Harry gave himself up? Before this summer he would not have cared one bit... no, that wasn't true, he would have cared because Dudley didn't deserve to die for Harry's cause no matter what the teen had done to him.

"I'd like that," Dudley gave a small smile, the two teens had come a long way since Harry first arrived back at Privet Drive, especially because they were the only real family they both had left.

The rest of dinner was spent discussing classes, like how even though Tonks was so much nicer than Snape, they thought Snape was a more effective teacher than the metamorphmagus and ironically how they hoped Snape would get stay more than one year; or some of the hilarious discussions Dudley's been a part of in Muggle Studies. Harry could feel his negative emotions peeling away as the four of them laughed retelling the story of Ron's experience calling on the telephone. Even Dudley managed a good laugh while remembering his father's reaction.

When they started talking about what happened in this morning's defense class and Ron's cancelled detention, Harry couldn't hold back his comment.

"Wait a second," Harry said halfway through dinner, "you attacked Malfoy right in front of Snape? Are you mental?"

Ron laughed, "Probably! I'll admit it wasn't my brightest idea, but I also wasn't in the stands yesterday and had to do something about it. I couldn't just let him get away with doing that to my best Mate."

"No you really didn't have do anything Ron," Harry replied, feeling his face flush a deep red. Now the class would assume he couldn't defend himself on top of everything else. "Not only that, Malfoy really had nothing to do with it."

"As if Crabbe and Goyle do anything without that git's approval first," Ron retorted back. "He might not have been there, but I'm sure he explained to the both of them exactly what to do to you."

"No offense Harry," it was Dudley this time, "having been in Malfoy's position, Ron's probably right. Malfoy's the ring leader, I doubt they'd do anything without him at least knowing about it."

"No offense Dudley," Harry said back in a way that made it clear he was being sarcastic, "but that's nothing to be proud of."

Even though they were talking about Dudley and Malfoy's bullying, Harry couldn't help thinking of his father and specifically the memory he saw in Snape's pensieve. His dad was in the same position as the two bullies; he appeared to be the Marauder's ring leader. Without even realizing it, a horrible thought popped into his head and refused to leave-

_If my parents had lived, would I have ended up as my dad, Dudley, and Malfoy?_

"Ron," Harry continued, tabling the bully thought for later, "I can tell you for a fact that Malfoy had nothing to do with it. You need to trust me on this one. In fact, I think you guys should just leave him alone from now on."

Harry could tell Ron wanted to argue back, yet he didn't say a word, just stared at Harry as if he had two heads. To the red head's credit, he did let the topic go with just a shake of his head in disagreement.

Before the trio left - a thought that shook Harry's core to think about the moniker that used to include him - he pulled Hermione in for a big hug. She was sniffling into his shoulder, hoping things would work out between them.

"Ask Professor Snape about it Harry," she whispered into his ear, not being able to let the topic go. "I think he suspects something too."

Harry did his best to hide how surprised that statement made him. Hermione had no way of knowing he had told Snape about it yesterday in the hospital wing and the professor hadn't mentioned anything about his own suspicion on Harry's magic. Why would Hermione think that about Snape? Had the two been talking about him? He shuttered at that thought. More importantly, was there anything else the professor was hiding?

* * *

Snape arrived only a half an hour after his friends left. Dutifully, Harry was sitting on the sofa working on his potions lessons for tomorrow - so he could feel somewhat prepared - when the professor stormed into the room.

"Everything ok sir?" Harry asked sitting up a little further onto the sofa.

"It's none of your concern," the professor expectantly replied.

"You really should consider getting that tattooed on your forehead," Harry laughed, "it would save you at least a million words over your lifetime."

The glare Snape gave him was _almost_ worth it. In fact, it came really close to rivaling that of Uncle Vernon's, which Harry sometimes enjoyed provoking.

_That's the second time I've thought of him today..._

Snape came walking into the sitting room - dropping a pile of parchment and a copy of the sixth year defense book onto the table - and took a seat in his normal armchair. Harry had a flashback to when he first arrived in Snape's quarters, back before it felt like home to him and he was nervous about every little step he took. His nerves started jumbling inside him as he picked up on Snape's dour mood.

"May I ask you a question before we start?" The young wizard asked tentatively.

"Of course you can," Snape steepled his fingers waiting to hear what the Gryffindor wanted to know.

"Have I been doing magic?"

It was straight and to the point just as Snape usually appreciated, somehow though it seemed to only anger the professor more. Harry got the feeling there were things Snape was hiding from him and he wanted to know what it was. He could feel himself getting as angry with the man in front of him and in the same way as he did with Dumbledore last year.

"Why do you think you've been doing magic? This wouldn't have anything to do with Miss. Granger's inability to keep her nose out of everyone else's business-"

"She's my friend!" Harry exclaimed; Snape was being completely unfair. "I appreciate her honesty, it's what _friends_ do. And besides, you clearly know something I don't because otherwise you would have answered my question instead of deflecting it. I've picked up on your Slytherin idiosyncrasies by now."

Snape pinched his eyes closed with his fingertips for what seemed like five minutes. Harry wondered if he'd pushed too far, until he heard Snape say, "You've been doing some magic; more so recently than when you first got here."

"What am I doing?" Harry asked, his voice laced with panic, "How can't I know that I'm doing it?"

"I don't know," the professor answered leaning forward towards Harry. "It's little things really, mostly summoning charms and silencing wards. Professor McGonagall is looking into all she can on it and hopefully we'll know more after your testing on Friday."

Harry ran his hands across his head, hating himself for the automatic gesture that only reminded him that he no longer had hair. So he was doing magic for some unknown amount of time. It was a strange and disturbing thought, like waking up and finding evidence of sleeping walking outside and having no recollection of how you'd gotten there.

"If I only have so much magic I can use," he started talking very quickly, "what is this random spelling going to do to it?"

" _Spelling?_ " Snape gave a painful grimace at Harry's half made up word.

"You know what I mean!" He stood and started pacing, "Doing spells randomly! Have I hurt anyone?"

"No," Snape said confidently. "Even the attack on Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle yesterday was innocent."

Harry stopped his pacing and gave Snape a look that said he didn't agree. The last thing he needed was something like what happened with Ginny and the Chamber of Secrets incident to be happening to him. If the rest of the school found out, he'd be targeted for sure.

"We'll figure it out Harry," Snape said in response to the obvious panic attack written across the young wizard's face. "Now sit down so we can go through your defense lesson."

"Oh yeah," Harry said moving onto the other issue he managed to talk himself into earlier, "Why am I even bothering to learn theory again? I can't bloody-well take my N.E.W.T.s on theory only and since I have at least three years of chemotherapy in some aspect, won't I just have to repeat it all anyways?"

A wave of guilt covered Harry as the professor in front of him hung his head in frustration. Harry definitely now got the feeling he'd pushed too far, though at the same time he didn't want to waste his professors' or Hermione's, Neville's, and Malfoy's time with all of the extra tutoring and it did not matter in the end.

"Maybe I should just leave the castle," Harry sat down; his anger having dissipated slightly. For reasons he couldn't place, he was nervous; his stomach was churning and his heart was beating quickly. "What am I even doing here? There's no point in pretending I'll be going on with life as normal after all of this."

"You will Harry," Snape's obsidian eyes met Harry's and the young wizard could feel the pleading within them. "You will go on with life as normal and likely much sooner than you think right now. You're in the castle because it's the safest place for you to be with the Dark Lord actively searching for you; trying to kill you actually. I promise, I will go through everything once we've gotten a chance to test your magic on Friday. That is the day you'll be the strongest and we'll be able to monitor you going forward. We'll talk about it as often as you need to, but we need to see where you are at first."

What could he say about that? Snape was completely right that they need to see where his magic is before they could address any of his many concerns. Harry hated all this waiting the most. Finally, the young wizard opened his defense book with a defiant look still upon his face.

At that moment he made a decision that less than three months ago he would have thought impossible, "Ok Severus, I trust you."

~~~~SS~~~~

Given everything going on, it was only a matter of time before Harry had a breakdown as he had on Monday night. Severus had hoped that getting the good news about the cancer not returning after his pneumonia would be enough for him to stay positive, yet he clearly had more on his mind then anyone could have thought. Once Harry had completed this upcoming round, Severus would commit to restarting Occlumency if for no other reason than to help clear the teen's mind through all of his anxieties.

Wednesday evening he was called to the Headmaster's office directly after his last class of the day - fifth years who still had a long way to go to be on pace for their O.W.L.s. He was in a foul mood after dealing with incompetent students all day on top of his dark mark starting to burn after lunch, which was an odd time of day for his former master to summon his followers and therefore was just another reminder of his supposed disloyalty to the Death Eaters. His latest burn cream was the best of the batches, nevertheless it didn't completely block out the pain when it lasted as long as this had.

Entering into Albus's office, Severus stopped momentarily at the sight of Moody and Draco sitting directly in front of the Headmaster's desk. Both wizards were sitting as far away from each other as physically possible, not at all hiding the disdain they shared for the other.

"Thank you for coming at such short notice, Severus," Albus said, welcoming the defense professor into the room. An extra chair was conjured in the large gap between Moody and Draco, which Severus naturally assumed was for himself.

"Of course Albus," he replied, taking his seat, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We've completed the map of Malfoy Manor and would appreciate your unique skills to help determine the best course of action," the headmaster said gesturing to the large parchment laying on top of his desk.

Standing again, the former spy looked over the document. Everything appeared in place and he was proud of Draco for being able to provide this level of detail as well as collaborating with the likes of Moody. A quick glance over his shoulder proved that the latter must have been difficult to do.

"We need to time it appropriately so that there are as few guards as possible. If we try to penetrate with this level of protection it will be futile," Severus explained turning towards Draco. "I'd recommend an initiation if you can ascertain the approximate date of one in the near future."

"And what benefit does that give us?" Moody challenged not even attempting to hide his frustration.

The defense professor pinched the bridge of his nose trying to maintain his decorum in front of his employer and protégé, "For one, any Death Eater worth a damn will be required to attend an initiation leaving not only a skeleton crew guarding their Headquarters, but also a weaker crew. I guarantee that you would prefer to duel the likes of Pettigrew over Dolohov or Yaxley any day.

"For two, the Order is less likely to get involved in an initiation. Sure, with advanced knowledge we'll be able to patrol the higher priority muggle areas to try to protect the future victims-" Severus took note of Draco's sudden pallor. The teen would carry the memory of Charlie Weasley's death with him for the rest of his life; Severus could only hope it would weaken in time. "However, we won't be attempting to interfere with said initiation meaning that our team would not be split, as it would be if we attempted this on a common raid."

Albus was nodding his head throughout the explanation validating Severus's ideas against any of Moody's potential objections. Severus could not understand how even after he'd lost his spy status by publicly saving Harry's life at the Privet Drive attack, there was still so much doubt in his loyalties.

"Alastor," the headmaster called, "does that all sound acceptable to you?"

Moody stood and approached the map upon Albus's desk, trying not to stand too close to Severus, grumbling under his breath the entirety of the process.

"It's a logical, thought-out procedure," the man eventually said only marginally louder than his internal mumbles. "I'll start briefing my team. Theoretically, how much time would we have to prepare?"

The former spy thought back about the initiations he'd seen throughout his time as an active Death Eater.

"Anywhere from 3 days to a week," he replied confidently. No Death Eater was initiated before the Dark Lord had a chance to do some exploration into the recruit's background. After Severus's own recent - to the Dark Lord anyway - defection, that process would now be much more detailed than in the past.

"Severus, do you believe the hostages will hold on for that unknown amount of time; until an initiation takes place?"

It was a valid question. No one could know the next time the Dark Lord would initiate someone to his inner circle. Severus hated the idea of leaving the Smithe's locked away for another moment longer, yet it wouldn't do the mother or child any good if the rescue team perished in the process before getting to them in the first place. Ultimately, it was best to stay put until there were either less Death Eater activity or lower level Death Eaters protecting them; ideally both.

"They'll have to," the professor said gravely. "If they're being used to coerce Alton to provide information, they'll likely be kept alive for as long as he cooperates with the Dark Lord. If they're being used as a punishment, we may very well go in and find their cell empty.

"It is my belief that the latter has not yet occurred. Alton's disposition has most definitely changed since the kidnapping of his wife and daughter, however it has not been to the point to which one would expect from their deaths."

Unfortunately, Severus would know the minute the two were killed simply by Alton's behavior. Never would the professor imagine he would recognize the grief from the loss of a child in others as he knew he now could. It was true he'd never had a wife, and therefore he was unsure if his grief over Lily's death would be close to the grief Alton would feel over Sarah. If Mary had been killed though... That wound would be impossible to hide especially to those who knew what to look for.

"Thank you gentlemen," Albus announced to the three of them as their intended dismissal. "We shall wait to hear of the appropriate time to move. In the meantime, please prepare your respective teams so we can be ready to go at a moment's notice if need be."

Severus knew that last part was said for Moody's sake; that the former Auror would argue that we need to be prepared for anything, especially when depending on two supposedly former Death Eaters. It was as if the mark that he idiotically wanted placed on his left forearm would forever brand him untrustworthy no matter how much he tried to atone for that sin.

"Severus," the headmaster called as he was turning to leave, "please stay behind."

It was a cold request that chilled the professor to his core. He took his seat again and watched as Moody and Draco left the office without any hesitation.

"Lemon drop my boy?" Albus asked, holding out the small dish on his desk with the yellow sweets.

"Of course not," the defense professor answered, "what is this about?"

"Straight to the point I see," the headmaster replied, "I should hardly have expected any less.

"I've received several complaints regarding your neglect towards your Head of House duties."

_Not surprising there._

"Let me guess," Severus responded calmly, "These complaints are from Crabbe and Goyle."

"Primarily so," Albus was seated behind his desk in a very formal manner, "however other parents have expressed dislike to several changes they've seen regarding your house policies."

"Such as?" If he was going to be reprimanded, he was determined to know exactly what he was being accused of.

"It's all very clandestine," Albus explained, "however I believe they're accusing you of targeting certain children, specifically in response to your new found loyalty to the Boy-Who-Lived... their words, Severus."

"And what is your opinion on the matter?" He wasn't about to show his severe dislike towards this conversation. How dare they make accusations such as these? Surely there had been plenty of complaints made by parents of students in the other houses about his behavior throughout the years, and yet now he was getting officially scolded.

Albus narrowed his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles. "On the record, I believe you have naturally been distracted with an ill child and pretending you can maintain the same level of support throughout the school is unnecessary. I stand by my word Severus, if you need to lighten your class load or take additional time off simply say the word."

The professor shook his head. He would handle whatever was sent his way.

"Please do remember my offer stands," Albus pointed out. "Now, off the record, it would be a very clever plan to attempt to draw you out of the safety of Hogwarts by using the children of Death Eaters against you. Given enough feedback, as Headmaster, I might be forced to take action; as I am tonight."

That sounded rather foreboding. What kind of action would Albus be forced to take? He was finally getting back to his classes and they were going well, worst case scenario would be he would lose his Head of House status, which would not be the end of the universe right now. He wouldn't deny that he had been less available to his students than in the past, as well as more fair in his punishments between the houses. In his old reality, that change had occurred gradually after the adoption, yet being placed directly in this reality it would be a shocking change of behavior for him. That was likely the best place to start.

"And how will you be handling the complaints?"

"Easy enough my boy," Albus was too light-hearted for this type of conversation for Severus's liking, "I will simply document our conversation and let the overly concerned parents be aware of such. I still believe you are the right professor for the post of Slytherin Head of House. Simply please do try to be more available to your students.

"Off the record, I suggest trying not to give anyone a reason to seek any disciplinary actions towards you. I am unsure what they are trying to achieve if they end up lobbying for your removal from the school, however it should not be taken lightly. This could be as simple as wanting the recognition of bringing in the traitor or the reasons could be more dangerous to either yourself or Harry."

"I don't particularly wish to find out which of those is correct," Severus replied, nodding his agreement.

Tonight he would need to go back through the memories of his counterpart here and try harder to blend the two personalities, if for no other reason than to protect Harry. It wouldn't matter how difficult it would be to make the adjustments, he would do what was necessary because he certainly could not protect the teen if he were removed from the school or even worse brought before the Dark Lord himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Boggart
> 
> Next update should be Monday or Tuesday.


	36. The Boggart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the chapter I think a lot of you have been waiting for - I know I have! After reading through this for the final edits, I this is definitely in my top three favorite chapters so far. Thank you everyone for the reviews and I hope you like this one as much as I do!

~~~~HP~~~~

By Friday, the day of Harry's magical testing, the Gryffindor could no longer contain his nerves over the upcoming examination. He'd barely eaten anything for breakfast or lunch, which was definitely not good on his last day before restarting chemotherapy tomorrow morning. Since up until this point in his tutoring, Harry had yet to complete an official Transfiguration lesson - the first being cancelled because of the vision and the rest because of the pneumonia - Professor McGonagall changed her schedule to be able to conduct his lesson earlier in the day; allowing them the time after dinner for his magical evaluation.

"You seem to be on schedule, taking into account everything you've had going on recently," his Transfiguration professor and guardian said. She was packing up after their lesson about human transfiguration, something Harry definitely could not attempt to do.

"Hermione's really doing a fantastic job at tutoring," the young wizard commented; and it was true, Hermione had always been a great source of information and extra help, so it was a natural transition for her to be a tutor.

"But how far behind am I compared to the rest of the class?" Harry asked suddenly. It was a question that had been weighing heavily on his mind all week and though he'd asked each professor that had come in for tutoring, he didn't expect it to come out so bluntly today.

"That is not a valid question Harry and you know it," the normally stern witch had sympathy written in her eyes as she looked upon her lion. "You cannot expect to be at the same level as your peers at the current moment."

"But I have to be," Harry whined, not at all caring that he sounded a bit like a small child. "What am I supposed to do when I restart classes at the end of the month? Especially when I can't use magic."

McGonagall patted Harry's arm in a patronizing way that angered the young wizard, "I will be working on solving that exact question this month so you will be prepared when the time comes to return to your classes. We will take care of it Harry; you needn't worry yourself over every detail now. Please trust me, Severus, and your other professors to take care of you."

"How is he?" Harry asked randomly. Sometimes he felt like his mind was more chaotic recently then compared to before starting chemotherapy. "Severus I mean... He seems exhausted all of the time."

"He has a lot going on right now," her answer was generic and unsurprising to the Gryffindor wizard.

"Can I do anything to help him?" Harry asked, "I already know I'm a main source of his stress and I don't mean to be... I don't want to burden him."

"It's nothing like how you're thinking," the elderly witch kindly explained. "Severus has always been a private person, even in his own school days, and has always felt the need to take on his issues alone - a trait you both share. He'll reach out to you when he is ready. Unfortunately, there are only a handful of people who can get through the walls he places around himself... Your mother was one; before their falling out of course..."

She trailed off in thought and Harry wondered to himself what their friendship had been like. Had it been similar to his own with Hermione and Ron?

"Now, you go eat dinner and I'll see you later for your aptitude testing. Is there anything you need before then?"

"No professor," Harry replied, collecting his books and notes into his school bag to take back to his bedroom.

"Harry, when we're alone do please call me Minerva," his guardian said, "I am your official guardian, though I doubt Severus remembers that fact."

Somehow it felt strange to call Professor McGonagall by her given name, more so than with Snape. Again, as his Head of House and now guardian, it should have come more naturally than with the former Potions Master. It showed just how much his relationship with Snape had changed.

"I'll do that," Harry eventually said, "Thank you Minerva. I'll see you tonight."

* * *

When the nervous young wizard finished whatever little bit of dinner he'd deemed himself able to keep down, he went to his room and grabbed his wand from the bedside table. It had been sitting there since he moved in after the Privet Drive attack, mostly untouched so it wouldn't tempt him into wanting to use his magic. Picking it up, Harry immediately felt a wave of his magic flowing through him from deep within his core into his wand hand and down all the way to his fingertips. He knew he shouldn't, but feeling his magic pulsing so strongly through him, he had to try some magic; wasn't that the whole point of today?

" _Lumos_ "

He squinted when a bright light instantly sprung to the tip of his wand.

_So far, so good..._

" _Nox_." The light immediately extinguished.

_That all seemed normal._

He walked out into the sitting room still feeling the magic almost swirling around inside of him like a snowstorm in the middle of January. Perhaps it was because he was concentrating on the feeling of it, but he never recalled feeling his magic so _excited_ \- for lack of a better word - when he held his wand after the previous summer holidays of not using it. Could the magic be more accessible because it's depleting? That made absolutely no sense, however he also never studied Magical Theory before either. Again, this was something he'd have to ask Snape or maybe even Flitwick or McGonagall about since it was a sore subject between him and Snape lately.

" _Accio Notebook_ " the Gryffindor called out fully expecting to have the muggle notebook he had used for his Transfiguration lesson earlier that afternoon come flying to him. What he ended up catching was definitely not his notebook.

In his hands was a set of bound parchment with a blank black leather cover. Curiously, Harry opened it to see Snape's script written in black ink. He closed the book quickly, catching sight of his name right before the cover closed.

He shouldn't do it - that much was obvious - even if Snape had written something about him in it and it was so tempting to look at. He should put it back immediately, except he had no idea where it came from and he was dying to know what Snape would have written about him. Against his better judgement he decided to take a peek, so he cracked it open and flipped to the page where he saw his name written across the top. Immediately below his name was a note that meant nothing to the young wizard:

_**Horcrux? - container for** _

Furrowing his brows in confusion, no matter how hard he tried to decipher Snape's small writing, Harry couldn't make out the last word. What was it, this Horcrux, a container for? He'd never heard of that word and it wasn't surprising because Snape knew a lot of information - especially in the dark arts - that Harry didn't know. **_Horcrux_**. The name didn't even sound good. How did Snape think this was related to Harry? There were all sorts of notes along the margins, half of which were scratched out for some reason or another.

Peering further down the page, he found his answer circled in red ink.

**_Leukemia from Horcrux?_ **

Apparently whatever this container or Horcrux was, Snape believed it had to do with how he'd gotten Leukemia. It made zero sense; how could a container affect his magic's ability to prevent his cancer?

_Would have been nice of him to tell me._

The Gryffindor flipped to another page in the book that had all sorts of notes he recognized as his different medications, schedules, and a list of side effects. There was a hand drawn calendar with the dates of his chemotherapy, notated with either IV or IT/IV - obviously depending on which treatment type he was getting that day. Every couple of days there was a circle with an **_M_ **inside of it and sometimes the **_M_** was followed by a plus sign or two plus signs and three of them on only one occasion.

Taking another random flip through the notebook, he saw the letters _A.S._ at the top of a page followed by _30.08.96?_ with a series of more tiny, unreadable notes.

Harry thought he made out the name _Mary_ , maybe _Lupin_ , and definitely there was _Draco_. Beyond that, there was a series of seemingly random dates - which went back before Harry was diagnosed with three of them before had even been born - and a random word here or there. None of it made any sense to the young wizard and he wasn't even sure Snape would be able to decipher it later.

A quick look at the clock over the mantle caused him to panic. Snape would be home in only five minutes and he had no idea where to put the book back! It had come from over his right shoulder, so he stood up and went over to the bookcase that was near the door to where Malfoy's old rooms had been located. There he placed the notebook randomly on a shelf; hopefully the professor would just assume he'd misplaced the book the last time he had put it back. It was weak - at best - but it would have to do because the second the book was returned, the floo roared and Snape walked out. Harry sighed in relief.

"Do you need something to read?" The professor asked, raising a single eyebrow.

"Erm," Harry rubbed the back of his neck making sure not to meet Snape's eyes. "I was hoping you had something to help with my Transfiguration essay. I can't really go to the library like I normally would for it."

The young wizard hoped his lie wasn't too obvious, especially because he really was going to ask if Hermione could bring him several library books at their next tutoring session for that exact purpose.

_The best lies are built on a fraction of the truth, right?_

"I'm sure we can arrange to get books on whatever topic you need, assuming I do not have a sufficient selection... which I would not for Transfiguration," Snape said taking off his teaching robes and hanging them up. Gesturing to Harry's wand in his right hand, Snape added, "I see you're ready."

"Yeah," he said warily, "Can we go?"

"Of course. We'll be floo-ing to Minerva's office and then we'll go with her to the Room of Requirement. Albus and Alton are already there setting up," Snape pulled out his wand and summoned a stack of files that came out from one of the other bookshelves. "Let us go."

* * *

Harry wondered what exactly the Headmaster had asked for when he entered the Room of Requirement. There was a long dark wooden table with five comfortable looking chairs around it - similar to one he'd seen on the telly that was used in a corporate office setting - each place had a set of parchment, ink, and quill, and up front was a chalkboard complete with different colored chalks he was sure he'd seen in his early primary school days. In the center of the table was a basket filled with an assortment of objects of all different shapes, sizes, and he would assume weights. For some reason he hadn't expected this to be so formal, and he started to get so nervous, his palms were sweating against his Holly wand.

Healer Smithe and Professor Dumbledore were already seated with Dumbledore taking the head of the table and the healer to his right. Between the two men were sheets of parchment scattered on the table and they appeared to be putting them into some kind of order that Harry could not make out from his vantage point at the door. His heart started beating against his chest and into his throat, in a way he couldn't remember happening since the Triwizard Tournament... any of three tasks.

Harry felt a firm arm reach around his back and a strong hand squeeze the side of his shoulder. The Gryffindor hadn't realized he had stopped walking upon entering the room, but now looked over to his left and saw Snape had his arm wrapped around him helping to guide the young wizard into the room.

"Breathe," the defense professor said, picking up on Harry's anxiety, "this will be easy and harmless."

"Yeah," Harry tried to say, only instead it came out as a croak.

"Welcome Harry," Dumbledore greeted, gesturing Harry to take a seat. The nervous Gryffindor sat in the first seat he reached, afraid his legs would collapse before he could make it any further. Snape and McGonagall both entered behind him and gave their greetings to the two men in the room. Snape sat directly next to Healer Smithe, which also happened to be in front of Harry, and McGonagall was to his right, between him and Dumbledore.

"Good evening Harry," Healer Smithe called out from the other side of the table, "how has this week been for you?"

"Brilliant," Harry said, which was the truth. Even with still having a cough from the pneumonia that landed him in coughing fits every-so-often, it was one of the best weeks since he'd been diagnosed; of course he also wasn't doing anything to stay in remission, and it had been a constant reminder to him how quickly the Leukemia could come back without continuing the chemotherapy.

"Ready to restart tomorrow?" The healer gave a small chuckle.

"Absolutely not," the young wizard said, ignoring the solace in Professor McGonagall's eyes. "But I'm more than ready to try out some magic."

Harry's cue to transition away from chemotherapy and onto his magical testing worked perfectly because they started going through what he should expect from each of these sessions; which would be done the day prior to the start of each chemotherapy round going forward. It was something he would actually be excited for if it weren't that they were testing to see how long it would be until his magic was completely gone. He closed his eyes trying to imagine he was getting evaluated for something completely different... his Auror training would work.

The professors put Harry through a series of magical tests and challenges, during which Healer Smithe had a diagnostic spell on him at all times to monitor his magical core for signs of exhaustion. Harry hoped that given how long it had been since his last chemotherapy, he wouldn't have to worry about magical exhaustion, yet there would likely come a time when he would; a thought that depressed him greatly.

Jumping straight into it, for the charms tests they had him summon objects of different sizes and at different distances; measuring how quickly each spell reacted. Then he had to levitate objects of varying weights to specific heights that were recorded based on if the object made it to the required height - which they all did without any issues - and the time it took for each object to reach that height, plus how long he could hold it at that height. Honestly, it was kind of fun to simply use his magic this way... for almost no purpose than to just use it.

Transfiguration was a little more complicated. First he had to vanish several of the objects on the table; unfortunately he left two of the dozen quills that were in the box of school supplies, knocking some points from that test. They then had him transfigure a mouse into a plate, but it ended up being just a bit more furry than it should have been. Professor McGonagall didn't seem at all disappointed with his level because as she put it "Transfiguration takes a bit more magic and precision than Charms", giving Harry the distinct impression that she'd gotten into this debate with Professor Flitwick before.

Since there wasn't any need to test Potions or Herbology, that only left Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape stood up from the table drawing the Gryffindor's attention away from the chalkboard with his results and over to the practice dummies he had not seen when entering the room. Harry took his stance against one of the dummies with Snape standing at his right and Healer Smithe to his left. Harry could still feel the distinct tickle of the diagnostic charm watching over his magical core, however he refused to let that distract him. This was his best subject and the one Snape currently taught; fueling his desire to do well on this test.

Snape spelled the dummies to perform several simple jinxes so Harry could perform the appropriate counters for each one - similar to his O.W.L last June - before getting into a duel where Harry finally ended it with an _expelliarmus,_ which predictably he performed perfectly. By the end, Harry was sweating and completely out of breath. This was the most physical he'd been since starting chemotherapy and even Healer Smithe took notice, reminding him that once he was into the next phase he should plan to start a daily exercise routine.

Harry nodded, "Before we finish, can I try out some of the non-verbal spells from my lessons?"

He had been hoping one of the tests would include things from the lessons he'd been taking this year. Dumbledore was quick to point out that since those lessons were so new, they would have nothing to compare him to and that was the purpose for these tests. Something like non-verbal spells though, wouldn't be too different from his verbal assessment or at least that's what Harry thought and he said so to the group in front of him.

"No," Snape said instantly, not at all even attempting to confer with the other adults in the room. "I don't want to risk that amount of magic after everything you have done tonight."

"Severus," Healer Smithe started, "his magical core has obviously taken some depletion tonight, however it's not anywhere near where he'd be in danger of magical exhaustion."

"I said no," the defense professor sternly replied before turning to Professor McGonagall for support, "And as Harry's official guardian, I'm sure Minerva will agree."

Whatever Snape managed to communicate to the Transfiguration Professor, it worked as her demeanor changed from light and excited to closed and cautious.

"I agree with Severus," the Scottish witch said with authority, "it's too much for tonight."

Harry nodded to the defense professor and went to take his seat, until he was stopped when Healer Smithe grabbed his arm. On instinct, Harry brandished his wand, then immediately lowered it upon seeing his healer's kind face. In the few seconds that process took place, he was oblivious to Snape and Dumbledore also reaching for their wands; something that did not go unnoticed by McGonagall though.

"Sorry Healer Smithe," Harry said embarrassed, "bad habit I'm afraid."

"Not a problem Harry," the man said reassuringly, "You've done an amazing job and hopefully tomorrow we'll have some answers about your magical core. I do need one more test though before you can go for the night."

"Sure thing," Harry said. He was enjoying getting to do some magic and wasn't in any hurry to stop. "What do you need?"

" _Riddikulus_ ," the healer said flipping through the notebook in his hand, "should be an easy one for you."

"Since I did it perfectly on my O.W.L.s, I think I'll be fine," the Gryffindor said confidently as he approached the wardrobe that was shaking. "Just a warning if you didn't know, my boggart is a dementor."

Snape stood off to the side with his wand brandished, just in case. Harry thought it was odd; did Snape really think he couldn't get rid of a simple boggart? The professor knew he got an Outstanding on his O.W.L, so it shouldn't come as a surprise to the man that he could do it. Then a thought popped suddenly into Harry's head -

_I wonder what Snape's boggart is?_

He didn't have time to think too hard about that as the wardrobe opened and Harry waited for the dementor to appear. Yet it wasn't a dementor at all, instead a green light flashed from behind the door and Snape's body came tumbling out; there was no doubt the professor was dead. The sight took Harry by such surprise, he jumped backwards gripping his wand tighter while willing his breathing to even out so he could think straight.

" _Riddikulus!_ " Harry yelled and nothing happened. He closed his eyes to think; having no idea how to make the dead body of the only father figure he had left humerus. Having lost so much in his short life, deep down he knew he couldn't lose Snape too.

Swallowing hard, he tried a second time, " _Riddikulus!_ "

Again, nothing happened. After the second failed attempt, the young wizard was pushed aside and in his place stood Snape. Harry watched as the dead Snape boggart started transforming and Voldemort stood before them. Snape took a half-step forward and yelled, " _Riddikulus_ ". The Voldemort boggart started to do an Irish Step Dance across the Room of Requirement before being sent back into the wardrobe.

Harry was panting on the floor when Snape bent down in front of him to help him back onto his feet.

"We're done here," the professor called out to the healer "I take it you have everything you need?"

"Yes, more than enough," Healer Smithe cryptically replied, "I'll see you both in the morning."

Harry was concerned about the first statement his healer had made; did his lack of appropriately dealing with the boggart equate to something negative with his magic?

Leading Harry out of the room, the professor called over his shoulder, "Minerva I'll see you later tonight."

They didn't wait to hear her response as Harry was swept out of the room and they started heading home.

~~~~SS~~~~

Harry's boggart was unexpected and caught the former spy completely by surprise. It was common knowledge at Hogwarts - ever since Harry's third year - that the Gryffindor's boggart was a dementor and something he should have been able to easily take down. Even in Severus's old reality, if Harry's boggart had changed from a dementor, he had no knowledge of it. Based on the surprised expression from the Gryffindor tonight when the boggart appeared, Harry hadn't expected the change of form either. Reacting purely on instinct, Severus made the decision to get Harry out of there before Alton could ask too many questions about the form or the fact that Harry could not defeat it so easily.

Now the only thoughts going through his mind as they made their way through the familiar corridors into the dungeons was how Harry would react to the news about the rescue mission. Leading the reconnaissance team, Severus would be required to be on-site at Malfoy Manor when the mission was in progress; plus it had recently been determined that he would be back-up for Lupin should something happen to the werewolf during the operation. After tonight's events, the former spy explicitly knew that _this Harry_ would feel very close to how his old Harry would have felt about him going. They had discussed his spying days in his old reality, going as far as discussing what would happen should Voldemort return and Severus were called upon to resume his former role. In the end, they had come to the conclusion that as Harry's legal guardian there was no way of Severus reclaiming his old position anyway, yet it was clear Harry would have felt abandoned; something he never wanted his son to experience on his account. However, here it was much more complicated; he couldn't abandon his team and leave two innocent people for dead no matter how much he wanted to stay with Harry and deep down he knew the Gryffindor would ultimately understand.

"It caught me off guard sir," Harry said the moment the door to their quarters closed behind them. "I was thinking about what your boggart could be... and it led to thoughts about... I'm sorry."

Severus guided Harry to the sofa and helped him sit down before kneeling in front of him. There was no way Harry would know that the knowledge of how close they had become these last three months could be detrimental in the wrong hands. It was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord knew and the price tag on his life would likely increase with this information.

"There is nothing to apologize for; it happens to the best of us," Severus explained. "Outside of the boggart, you did very well tonight. I think we've got a good idea of what's going on with your magic now."

He would wait until Minerva stopped by later that night to discuss the details, but based on what he'd seen tonight - in relation to Harry's real file - his magic was not depleting. In fact, based on what he had seen tonight as well as the previous weeks, had he allowed Harry to try out the non-verbal spells, the professor had no doubt he would have succeeded and likely after the first try, giving Alton more information then they wanted him to have at the moment.

"It's just..." Harry started wringing his hands in his lap.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about," Severus replied, taking a guess at what was bothering the Gryffindor. Harry's face immediately flushed. "Go off to bed, you have a busy day tomorrow."

"Thank you Severus," Harry said sighing in relief, standing to head back to his bedroom. "G'night."

"Sleep well Harry," The professor said.

Severus was intimately aware of how difficult it would be for Harry to have a conversation like that after living as many years as he did in neglect. This was one of those situations where actions spoke louder than words and they both had a very good idea where their relationship stood.

* * *

Sitting in his office, after Harry was asleep in his bed, Severus stretched his neck trying - in vain - to release some of the stress he was physically feeling. For a week that should have been easier overall, it was definitely a trying one on the defense professor. Harry's rant before their lesson on Monday caught Severus completely off guard as to how much potentially losing his magic was affecting Harry. He had considered offering the young wizard the chance to go back to classes for the week, as his immune system was likely well enough to handle the other students, but then decided against it as it would only prove how much further behind Harry was from his classmates and spotlight the fact that he was not supposed to use his magic. Given that Alton likely had already informed the Dark Lord of the potential to Harry's magical loss - and would now hopefully have a fake confirmation of it - keeping this information from the other students had more to do with Harry's outlook on his future than making sure the Death Eaters were unaware of it. In fact, the more he worked through their larger strategy, it would be better if the other side expected Harry to become an easy target and then he could surprise them with his true strength.

 _Of course, that's only if these magical outbursts aren't draining him further,_ Severus reminded himself. It very well could be that he'd have a year or so of strong magic followed by nothing. Severus vowed to not stop searching for a way to save Harry's magic until he either found the answer or the day came where Harry's magic was indeed gone forever.

The professor was going over his old school records, which had become Harry's for this purpose, and was comparing them to Harry's true records. It wasn't every day that a student was able to peruse their Hogwarts file and Severus was surprised to see how promising his professors had evaluated him throughout the years. Thinking back it never seemed to matter to him what his marks and aptitude were; he knew he wanted to get a Potions Mastery and - specifically in his later years - join the Death Eaters. What he wouldn't give to write a letter to himself back then and explain where his life would end up if he continued to follow that road. Could he have stopped himself from ruining his friendship with Lily? No, it wouldn't have mattered, he would have needed to tell himself not to join the Dark Lord and only then he may have had a chance to be with Lily. Would Harry still be enough of himself had Severus been his biological father instead of his adoptive one? What would have happened if Harry hadn't defeated the Dark Lord on the night Lily died? Too many what-if's flooded his mind to keep straight.

"I take it this is where we are meeting tonight?" Minerva asked bringing Severus's attention back to what was in front of him; he had completely missed her entrance into his office and that should never happen for a myriad of reasons.

"Naturally," he answered, closing the file in front of him, "it's the only place, outside of Albus's office, I can guarantee our privacy."

Coming into the room, she sat down in the chair in front of his desk and - quite bravely in Severus's opinion - pulled one of the books that was sitting on the desktop; it just so happened to be the one on genealogy.

"Is it possible something has been blocking Harry's magic this whole time?" She asked holding the book away from his grasp when he attempted to retrieve it. "Doing a little light reading yourself Severus?"

"I do not think that is any of your business," he said, summoning the book out of her grasp. "I think someone is getting far too comfortable down here."

"Oh I agree," Minerva smiled, "but it's not me. I imagine you were as surprised as the rest of us at Harry's change of boggart?"

He didn't want to discuss this, except he'd be playing right into her hand if he refused.

"I think it makes perfect sense given everything that's happened since the end of term last year; losing Black, his diagnosis, the Privet Drive attack," he said logically counting out everything that had happened in such a short amount of time. "Going back, why would you think something was blocking Harry's magic?"

Minerva gave him a look to say she wasn't going to drop the previous topic forever, but in the meantime she'd let it go. She placed the same book that Albus had brought when they discovered Harry's magical core pain - _Magical Theory Vol IV - The Life and Death of the Magical Core_ \- upon his desk; this time small pieces of parchment were littered throughout as bookmarks. Hopefully this meant she'd found something.

"To summarize my theory," the elderly witch started, "if something had been holding his magical core back, it could explain why his magic is growing as the muggle medication is breaking down whatever walls were holding it in."

The _Horcrux?_

If his theory was that the piece of the Dark Lord's soul prohibited Harry's magic from healing away the Leukemia cells, what's to say it didn't have other impacts on his magic overall? It made sense, yet left several other questions.

"Is that even possible?" He asked skeptically.

"If there wasn't at least one theory of such a thing, do you think I would I have even mentioned it?" Minerva huffed, insulted. "Who has been the one pouring over the magical theory textbooks; you or I?

"There's still so much unknown about magical cores, however one theory is that there are ways magic can be amplified or suppressed; in fact at least one wizarding community believes squibs simply have a block to their inherent magic."

Being in a profession where he often tested out his own theories and on occasion - such as with his modified burn salve - they were wrong, Severus couldn't refute another witch or wizard's work simply because he didn't personally agree with it. If they believed squibs had a block to their magic, how could they explain muggleborns where magic came up seemingly at random. Furthermore, why wasn't more being done to break down these supposed "blocks"?

"Hypothetically speaking, if there was something that could be blocking Harry's magic," Severus asked carefully, "what difference would that make to him?"

"Well for one, if the block were removed he would have access to more of his magic than prior to its removal," she said in a serious voice, "and it may be why we are seeing spikes of his magic appearing stronger now. The muggle medications could be breaking holes - so to say - releasing spurts of amplified magic."

He would need to discuss this with Albus where there would be no need for secrecy regarding the Horcrux. While he obviously knew he could trust Minerva, the Horcrux information needed to stay strictly between as few people as possible. When dealing with magical theories such as horcruxes and magical cores, there wasn't really any definitive proof of anything, making it difficult to make any solid decisions on it. They were getting closer, he could tell that much, and he needed to uncover it before Alton or the Dark Lord.

"Thank you Minerva," he said, grateful to have people by him to help work all of this out.

* * *

Severus and Minerva didn't finish with their examination of Harry's magical records until after midnight. With thoughts of magical cores and Horcruxes in the back of his mind, Severus fell into an anxious sleep. Unfortunately, as with the last three times at the start of Harry's long chemotherapy weeks, the young wizard could not have a restful slumber and Severus was awoken to the sound of the the Gryffindor screaming so loud it was as if he were in the professor's bedroom. Severus's eyes sprung open as the adrenaline instantly started to race through his body.

Running out of his bedroom and into Harry's, he found the teenager in bed screaming - unknowingly with a _Sonorus_ to amplify his voice - while thrashing in his bed and writhing in pain. This was not the first time he had seen Harry have a nightmare, but it was the first time he appeared to be in physical pain from it. Reaching down he grabbed Harry's shoulder and shook him to try and wake him up.

"Harry!" He called out and when the teen did not react he tried again, only louder this time. "Harry! Wake up, you're having a nightmare!"

Frustrated, he quickly scanned the room trying to decide what he could do to help wake the teen up, coming up with only one - very bad - idea. Before he was able to cast the _Aguamenti_ spell, he saw Harry's scar had burst open and was actively bleeding down his forehead. Severus's heart broke as tears started leaking down Harry's cheeks.

_It's a vision._

"NOOOOOOO!" the young wizard screamed as he bolted upright in his bed. Without even stopping to take in his surroundings, the Gryffindor held his hands to his face and started crying.

In that moment, Severus could see how exhausted Harry was not only from the cancer and the chemotherapy, but also from the life he had lived; from being the small 18 month old toddler who saw his parents murdered and then was almost murdered himself, from being neglected all the rest of his life by those who were supposed to care for him, from being The Chosen One who time and again was needed to save everyone else. This child, who was asked to give everything he could with nothing in return, needed someone for himself.

Severus sat down on the edge of Harry's bed and pulled the distraught teenager into a firm embrace. Harry didn't try to pull away, instead he melted into the feeling of Severus's strong arms around his frail body; the feeling of someone who was there for him, someone who would help him, someone who loved him.

"They're dead," it took a second for Severus to comprehend the muffled words Harry had said against his chest. When Harry pulled away from him, he could see fear and defeat in the teenager's eyes, "He killed them! He killed them all."

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_What was he thinking bringing the Boy-Who-Lived home to Spinner's End with him? Somehow it made perfect sense to Severus when he demanded that Albus not send Harry back to his relatives' house on Privet Drive, that he would take over Harry's care by becoming his guardian. At the time he wasn't even positive the Ministry would allow him to become anyone's guardian, let alone Harry Potter's, and he'll never know what Albus had to do to push the paperwork through so quickly, but in less than the week it took to clear out his classroom, he was given temporary guardianship and they left for Cokeworth. What had he been thinking again?_

_Severus could try to convince himself that he had been thinking of Lily; of how disappointed she would have been with him for not stepping in sooner. It wasn't as if he'd known how Harry had been living all of these years. Sure, he could have probably guessed - based on his history with Petunia alone - had he not been wallowing in the loss of the only woman he'd ever loved; the woman who had every right to leave him. Now somehow her son, and the son of his nemesis, was upstairs asleep in the bedroom Severus had grown up in._

_However, he knew that was a lie. Ultimately, deep down he had been thinking of his own miserable childhood and how much he had wished someone would have done for him what he was now doing for Harry. How often had he sat in that same bedroom Harry was now sleeping in wishing someone would have stepped in and taken him away from his drunk, abusive father and from his mother who - even though he knew she loved him - resented him more? If he were being honest, he saw too many similarities between himself and Harry to ignore. Someone had to speak up and help the child._

_Things had seemed easier back at Hogwarts where they had lived together for the first week after the term ended. Once the Fidelius was in place - with Albus as the secret keeper - and his classroom was cleaned out, they came to Spinner's End where they would live for the remainder of the summer. This was only their second night here and it felt much too personal to have the almost 12-year old in his childhood home. Severus was not the type of person to share his personal life with anyone and now he had James Potter's son here._

_The Potions Master was down in the sitting room - which Harry called a library - attempting to catch up on the latest potions journal with those thoughts running rampant through his mind. They had a busy day getting Harry settled, or at least as much as he could given the worn down condition of the house. Most of the day consisted of cleaning out his old bedroom from the layers of dust, Slytherin decor, worn out clothing, and books on the dark arts. The room was small and right now in disrepair, yet Harry seemed extremely grateful to be there. After the Gryffindor had gone off to bed tonight, Severus created a list of all the things that needed to be addressed in the house to make it suitable for a child to live in - even if only for a couple of months out of the year - and tomorrow they would start tackling it. Harry insisted that he wanted to help as much as he could on the renovations and the professor was more than a little nervous how they would work together given their complicated history thus far._

_In addition to the work to do on the house, Severus did not hesitate to add "clothes shopping" to his list of things to do. Watching Harry unpack his trunk today, he had gotten the impression that Harry's clothing was in dire need of replacing. The Gryffindor had not said a word about them as he placed the oversized clothing into the wardrobe, most of which had either holes or were so worn he could almost see through them. It was easy to tell that Harry's aunt and uncle had never purchased any clothing specifically for their nephew. Understanding how embarrassing it would be for Harry when they finally discussed this, the professor was preemptively trying to prepare for how to address the issue as sensitively as possible; something that was out of character for him._

_It was almost midnight when he was finally checking the security wards and heading off to sleep. Severus took an extra couple of steps towards Harry's room to make sure the light was out - which it was - when he heard rustling and talking through the door. Brandishing his wand, just in case, the former spy approached the door both cautiously and silently. Listening carefully, he could hear Harry on the other side sounding like he was in a struggle. His mind immediately flew to the worst case scenario; somehow Albus had been compromised as their secret keeper and a Death Eater managed to get past his wards and into the house._

_Turning the door knob slowly, so he could keep his element of surprise to the intruder, Severus peered through the cracked door. He quickly released the breath he was holding when he realized there was no one in the room besides Harry, who was still in bed but thrashing around in his bed covers, having what appeared to be a nightmare. As Severus approached the bed, the small boy was tangled all up in his bed sheets moaning almost indecipherable words. Severus managed to make out two of them and they were "Vernon'' and "Voldemort"; neither of which could be a good sign for his nightmare._

_"Harry," the professor called out, shaking the young wizard's shoulder. "Harry, wake up, you're having a nightmare."_

_At first Harry did not respond, so Severus sat down onto the edge of the bed and called for him again. This time the young wizard awoke in a panicked fright._

_"Ahhhh," Harry yelled, bolting upright in his bed._

_"You're safe," Severus said standing up from the bed, completely unsure how to handle this type of situation._

_"M'sorry professor," the Gryffindor said embarrassed, "did I wake you up?"_

_"Not at all," the professor replied, "I was simply on my way to bed and heard you struggling. It appears as if your bed covers might have won."_

_Awkwardly, Severus helped Harry untangle himself from his sheets and bedspread. Once he was freed, an uncomfortable silence fell over the two as neither knew what to do next._

_"Erm," Harry started, "Thank you sir. I think I'm ok now."_

_Taking a close look at the boy in front of him, Severus could see how tired he appeared. How long had he been plagued with nightmares? Between his childhood and the whole Voldemort encounter less than a month ago, it didn't take a mind healer to guess why he was having them._

_"Do you want to talk about your nightmares?" He asked Harry quietly, questioning yet again why he thought he was qualified to take care of a child. He hadn't the slightest idea of what to do._

_"No, not really sir," Harry said in an equally quiet voice giving Severus the impression that he didn't know how to act around an adult who actually asked him how he was doing or feeling; especially when that adult was his hated Potions professor._

_Sighing in frustration with himself, Severus thought back to one of the few times his mother had actually acted like a mother. Pulling his wand out, he summoned a glass of milk from the kitchen and using a heating charm, he warmed it up before handing it to Harry._

_"This will help settle you back to sleep," the professor said as Harry took a small sip followed by another larger one._

_"Thank you professor," the Gryffindor said, giving a smile that told Severus somehow the two of them would be alright together after all._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will probably be Wednesday or Thursday.
> 
> Originally chapters 37-39 were written as one chapter (I had to split otherwise it would have been about 20k words) so need to do the final edits all at once. I'll try my hardest to get them done no later than Thursday and not to leave too much time between posting those chapters so it doesn't lose too much of the intended flow.


	37. Plans Change - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned at the end of the last chapter, chapters 37-39 were originally written as one, but I also want you to know going into them that it takes place over a single day.
> 
> Thank You everyone who has reviewed!

**_Saturday 5th, October 1996_ **

~~~~HP~~~~

It may have been because of the lingering effects of the pneumonia, but Harry absolutely could not breathe causing him to panic even more than he already was over the vision. No matter how hard he tried to suck in the oxygen his brain and lungs so desperately needed, it felt like he was breathing through a narrow straw and he would never be able to get nearly enough. Suddenly, the blurry colors disappeared and all around him was black, only now instead of fear, he felt comforted. Strong arms were practically swallowing his small frame on both sides of him.

"Breathe," he heard a low voice whisper in his right ear, "you need to take slower breaths before you hyperventilate. Try to match my breathing."

Against his chest, he could feel the rising and falling of someone breathing. Without being consciously aware of it, Harry started breathing in the same rhythm of the person talking to him and his brain started to clear. He could see the room around him materialize back into his bedroom at home as his glasses were slipped back onto his face seemingly on their own.

_Home... I'm safe at home._

Snape was sitting next to him with his arm wrapped tightly around Harry's small shoulders and the young wizard used that feeling to help ground himself in the present; where there was no death or destruction surrounding him. He was shaking and could taste the salty tears that had coated his lips and the coppery blood from the place he had accidentally bitten his tongue.

He felt a warm wet cloth placed softly against his forehead - to clean the blood from his scar he now realized - and it brought his attention upwards where he met Snape's very worried eyes. He expected to feel the brush of the professor's mind against his own, and was genuinely surprised when it did not happen. He would almost prefer that instead of having to explain it all to the professor. With his panic attack now under better control, and his scar no longer bleeding, he drew his knees to his chest and laid his head on top of them silently wishing all of this to end; the death, the fear, and the torture.

Everytime Harry closed his eyes, flashes of the vision were forcibly cast across them:

_The long road that Harry was all too familiar with was illuminated by the soft orange glow of the street lamps. The asphalt street and front gardens of each identical house were damp as if it had recently rained; in fact Harry could almost smell the distinct scent of freshly cut grass mixed in with rain._

Back in his bedroom, Harry's breathing started to increase yet again and his eyes shifted back and forth beneath his eyelids trying to push the vision away from him.

_There had to be almost fifty Death Eaters walking up and down the street unlocking doors with a flick of their wands. It was too easy; the muggles didn't stand a chance against them. He could hear the screams of each man, woman, and child as they were dragged from their beds and thrown down into the street. Voldemort himself was standing tall in front of his prisoners._

_The orange glow from the street lamps disappeared as glass shattered from the bulbs that were forcibly broken by his loyal followers; leaving the street blanketed in almost pure darkness. Cries and screams were deafening as each resident tried to escape the inevitable. Their efforts would be futile. On his command, green lights were cast from his followers' wands until the entire street went eerily silent._

_"Finish it," the dark wizard called to the men and women in dark robes and masks. Without needing any other direction, the Death Eaters turned away from their victims to cast their spells into each house until the entire street was engulfed in flames._

"He's at Privet Drive...," Harry said, his voice quivering from a combination of fear, grief, and adrenaline, "it's all gone... He's killed them all... He knows I'm not there and he killed them anyways. They all died for nothing!"

He was pulled closer to Snape's side and felt the man's rough hand on the back of his head. For the first time, Harry wasn't embarrassed about needing the comfort or about the tears that were still falling down his cheeks. What he'd just witnessed was the most horrific scene to date. Most of the residents in his old neighborhood hardly knew him and yet they had all been killed because of him; because Voldemort was trying to torture him. The Gryffindor couldn't think of any other reason.

Snape tried to move, as if to stand, until Harry grabbed a handful of his bed shirt, silently begging him to stay. If he moved from this position, the young wizard would know it was all real. Sitting here - against the man who literally traveled across the universe to save him - Harry felt safe for one of the few times in his life. Snape would help him, Snape would do whatever it took to make this better, Snape would never leave him.

"I need to contact the headmaster," the professor said, pulling Harry away, still holding firmly onto his right arm in an effort to keep Harry from falling back into the memory of the vision. Using his wand, the professor sent his doe patronus with a message for Albus to dispatch a team to Privet Drive for a possible Death Eater raid. Turning his attention back to the young terrified wizard he said, "Please tell me what you saw."

Harry nodded his head and with a shaking voice he started rambling, "He summoned his followers... There had to be about forty or fifty of them... At first it was fuzzy, like I was underwater...

"Then they went to Privet Drive... He knows I'm not there... He knows my relatives aren't there anymore... But he still... Everyone was in the streets... Then the fires."

He knew he wasn't making much sense, except that was the best he could do. It was all jumbled in his mind with flashes projecting across his eyes and the screams blaring into his ears. In the room, a bright light appeared in the shape of a Phoenix - Dumbledore's patronus.

"Stay put Severus," the voice of the headmaster said through the patronus. "I will be there shortly."

The professor nodded his head, though Harry wasn't sure a patronus could see, and then Snape helped to pull the Gryffindor up from the bed, "Let us go into the sitting room and wait on Albus."

It was Harry's turn to nod. Entering the sitting room, he caught sight of the clock on the mantle, it was already half past four in the morning and he had less than four hours until Healer Smithe would be there for his next round of chemotherapy. Harry was exhausted, not necessarily from the lack of sleep, as he'd been able to catch up on a lot during the week. It was from the constant battle he was always going through against his own body and mind. He was fighting his body against the Leukemia, his mind against Voldemort, and the young wizard couldn't help questioning how much of "just Harry" was left in either of those. Pulling up the last of his strength, he was determined not to lose himself in all of this.

They could not have been sitting on the couch for more than ten minutes when the floo turned bright green and Dumbledore stepped out. The elderly wizard was wearing a conservative set of dark grey robes without any embellishments whatsoever on them. If the situation had been different, Harry would have chuckled because he didn't think the headmaster owned such a plain set of robes.

"All is well," the leader of the Order of Phoenix said carefully, kneeling down in front of Harry taking in the teens distraught appearance.

"That's impossible," Harry said, shivering and shaking his head violently as dread filled him up inside. Snape, who was standing behind him, summoned Harry's red blanket and draped it over his shoulders. It had the distinct feel of a warming charm that penetrated the cold layers of his skin. "I saw it happen! The entire street was completely destroyed; houses were burned down! The dead bodies were everywhere and the Death Eaters were all there!"

"Is it possible it was not Privet Drive you saw?" Dumbledore asked in doubt.

"No," the Boy-Who-Lived said quickly, almost interrupting the man in front of him, "I lived there for almost 15 years sir. I know what I saw. If it didn't happen, then it's going to... He's got to be planning it! You can't let him get away with it! You can't let them all die!"

"It could have been another false vision" Snape suggested coming around to sit in the armchair on the left. "As a way to..."

"To torture me?" Harry finished for him furiously.

"Precisely," Snape answered dejectedly.

"It was so real," Harry was still shivering, not from the cold this time; from pure fear. His body was flooded with fear for the people who used to be his neighbors, even if he hadn't known them well, even if they never stood up against the Dursley's to help him when it was obvious they had some kind of knowledge of what went on in #4. They didn't deserve to be murdered, except they hadn't been murdered... it wasn't real after all. Then the fear he had for the innocent muggles morphed into fear for himself. What would happen to his mind if Voldemort kept on torturing him like this? How long before he went crazy or completely paranoid?

"I will keep the order on high alert just in case," Dumbledore explained standing between the professor and student. The two men appeared to be having a conversation without a word spoken between them. "Severus, should you hear of a summons either directly or indirectly, please let me know immediately and we will send a team back out to Little Whinging."

Snape flexed his left arm and Harry knew the professor had to be dreading the idea of receiving a summons. Harry found himself wondering how often the professor had the burning pain because it seemed less now, or perhaps Harry had simply been too self-absorbed to take notice. That last thought pained him inside and guilt filled him alongside the fear. How could he be so selfish to not know how Snape was doing after everything the man had done for him?

"Do you think you can try to get some sleep?" Snape asked suddenly giving Harry the impression he'd missed pieces of the conversation around him.

"Can I stay out here? On the sofa?" The young wizard pleaded knowing he'd already be allowed to. For some reason, he had the impression that his other self - the one from Snape's old reality - had slept on the sofa often.

"Of course Harry," Snape answered and pulled out his ebony wand to summon Harry's pillow from his bedroom, then set it at the end of the sofa. Harry laid his head down gently before the professor carefully arranged the blankets around him making Harry feel warm and comfortable; inside and out. "The headmaster and I will be right in the kitchen should you need me."

"Thank you Severus," Harry yawned, demonstrating that he was more tired than he let on. "One more thing sir?"

Snape stood still with his eyebrows raised beckoning Harry to continue.

"How did you know I was having a vision?"

"Ah," Snape said giving his head a small shake in disbelief, "I was awoken by your amplified voice; you were screaming."

Immediately, the young wizard's face flushed bright red, "m'Sorry sir."

"Harry, please do not apologize for needing help," Snape said seriously, "especially for something you have no control over. Get some rest while you can, I have a feeling it's likely to be a rough day."

~~~~SS~~~~

It didn't surprise Severus in the slightest when Harry had the vision about Privet Drive that morning. Had yesterday's boggart dilemma not thrown the night off balance, the professor had wanted to tell Harry all about their suspicions of the Dark Lord using the visions as a way of psychological warfare, in order to prepare the Gryffindor for something like this happening. Adding to his list of things to remember - once this round of chemotherapy was completed - they would need to go back to serious Occlumency training so the Gryffindor could at least attempt to block these visions before they started.

When he'd finally woken Harry up from the vision, the teen was completely distraught which was heartbreaking for the professor to watch. It had to be a terrifying feeling to live through something like that and not have any control over it. Severus had done awful things in his life that he still had occasional nightmares over, however for the most part, he was fully aware of what he had been doing at the time and he deserved to be plagued by the screams of those he had killed; intentionally and unintentionally.

What did take him by surprise that morning was when Albus came through with no news on any Death Eater activity in Little Whinging. He would have fully expected to hear that Privet Drive was in shambles based on Harry's, albeit limited, description. In hindsight, the lack of burning from his own Dark Mark should have been a clue all along that this raid had not actually occurred; at least not yet.

Once the young wizard was settled on the sofa and trying to get a couple more hours of sleep before Alton arrived for his chemotherapy, Albus and Severus went into the kitchen for tea. The defense professor pulled his wand to start preparing it as the headmaster took a seat in the chair Harry always chose at the small table. Severus used the time he was distracted to tell the headmaster everything Harry had recalled from the vision.

"What do you make of this Albus?" He asked nervously as he waited for his mentor's response to what he had just explained.

"It's more than possible young Harry picked up on Voldemort's intent for action through the vision," was the first thing the headmaster suggested.

"Anything is possible," the former spy replied. It sounded too much like Albus was using Harry as bait and he didn't like that one bit.

"If this is going to happen and there will be that many Death Eaters away from the manor, I believe we should be ready to move forward with the rescue tonight," Albus's bright blue eyes pierced into the back of Severus's head. When he turned to face the elderly wizard, his hands were held so tightly onto the countertop behind him that his knuckles turned pure white, and he had a dead serious expression across his face. "I know it's sooner than we expected my boy and we already deduced why a raid is an inappropriate time to do this, however if this vision is somehow related to an upcoming event of this size, we cannot let the opportunity be wasted."

"It doesn't change my suggestion that it is highly inadvisable," Severus replied, turning back to finish their tea. "We would still be at a disadvantage by splitting the teams between wherever it is the Dark Lord _might_ go - most likely Privet Drive - and the team to rescue the Smithe's."

"We could have a full-scale reconnaissance planning today until we are sure we can penetrate the manor with as few casualties as possible given the disadvantage of the size of our team," the headmaster continued to lecture once Severus sat down with their tea. "Think about it, Severus, if we plan accordingly, we could get them out as early as tonight, with significantly less interference."

Severus knew strategically speaking this was a bad idea, yet he could not deny how much he wanted to go for it. Since the moment he found out Alton was working against them, he wanted to save Sarah and Mary. Maybe it was because he wanted so desperately to save Lily and Harry, to which he'd failed at both of those in his other reality, or perhaps because deep down he thought that the only way Alton would bring harm to his patient - any patient, not only Harry - was if his family were in danger. By releasing them from the Dark Lord's clutches, he would know, without a doubt, if Alton was voluntarily working with the Death Eaters. What Albus was suggesting would give him exactly what he wanted.

" _If_ \- and that's a big assumption to begin with - the Dark Lord is planning to attack a muggle street tonight with that headcount, I would suspect we wouldn't need more than a handful of wands at Malfoy Manor. Therefore, it doesn't hurt to be prepared just in case the opportunity does happen to present itself," the former spy conceded with a high level of skepticism. "To pull this off, Draco would absolutely need to spend the day at Headquarters with Moody going over the map in excruciatingly fine detail."

"That can be arranged," Albus gave a smile at his victory, "And what of you, my boy? Can we count on you to be in the field as we had originally planned?"

"Absolutely not," the former spy said regretfully, eyes lingering at the door towards Harry's direction. He wanted to be there, nevertheless Harry was his first priority, "You know I cannot leave him today. I have to sit this one out."

"We really need you Severus," the headmaster responded, "you were an integral part of the original plan."

"Plans change Albus," the dark haired wizard replied sternly. "You do it without me, or not at all."

Already knowing it was a lost cause to try to convince his defense professor to change his mind, Albus simply nodded and replied, "I will collect Mr. Malfoy this morning and let you know should he have any issue assisting us."

The younger wizard gave a small chuckle. Draco never had issues with people needing him. It would make the blonde feel important, and the fact that Severus would not be there as a liaison between the Slytherin and former Auror would make him feel all the more powerful too. As long as this did not go to the teen's head, they would be fine without him. Instead, today could continue trying to find a connection between the Greengrass family and the Dark Lord.

As if reading his defense professor's mind - which was practically impossible - Albus asked, "Have you uncovered anything about Miss. Greengrass?"

"Nothing of importance yet," Severus replied furrowing his brows, "their family had early connections to the dark arts, however somewhere in the late 1800's their history tapers off before picking back up in the 1920's. From that point forward, there is no mention of their involvement in any of the wars; for either side."

"As one of the last true pureblood families, I have a hard time believing they hold no value on blood status," Albus said unconvinced. "The Weasley's even made a declaration on blood status; that they place no value on it."

"It's possible the Greengrass's view this as a way to realign themselves with their previous dark arts culture," Severus explained with scowl, the feelings of injustice rising within him "If not, and they are in fact 'Blood Traitors', after the attack on the Burrow, I imagine they would be hesitant to speak up against the Dark Lord and in that case they may go as far as to join him simply to maintain their elite status while simultaneously drawing attention away from them."

"I suspect they would fall into the former category," Albus replied sipping his tea like they were simply two old friends catching up on their summer holiday and not discussing the future of at least one of his students.

"If the Greengrass's are so eager to realign themselves with the Dark Lord, I'm sure Mr. or Mrs. Greengrass will be more than welcomed to take the mark themselves," Severus said slamming his hand down on the table. He quickly closed his eyes fully expecting Harry to have heard it and wake up. When the Gryffindor didn't enter the kitchen, he continued with a low growl, "They need not sacrifice their eldest daughter, against her wishes, for their own cause."

Did they know they were practically sentencing her - at best - to a life sentence in Azkaban and, at worst, to her own death? What kind of parents would hand over their child to that kind of life; especially when they were unmarked themselves?

_Cowardly parents, that's whom._

"We can both agree to that Severus," said the headmaster gravely, "I believe the best we can do would be to put her and her sister into hiding. We can use Shell Cottage after the Christmas holidays. Although it would make this infinitely easier if one of her parents would agree to accompany them. Does Draco know if both of her parents are lobbying for her mark?"

"I have no idea," the former spy pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'll inquire about it to him and direct his focus to Daphne's mother. I'm willing to bet if one of them wouldn't want their daughter marked, it would likely be her mother."

The two wizards sat in a companionable silence between them until it became obvious that Severus would have to be the one to broach the last remaining topic they needed to cover.

"What did you make of Harry's magical tests yesterday?"

Albus smiled with that spark in his blue eyes that meant he was feeling overly sentimental, "Do you mean besides his change of boggart?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Severus simply replied, "I have already discussed that with Minerva. If you wish to gossip, I suggest you find her. I'm sure she can fill your head with all sorts of fairy tale endings."

Settling back into his chair, Albus smirked, "I'll keep that in mind Severus.

"As for Harry's overall aptitude, I'm sure you'd agree that it does not seem as if he has lost any magic thus far. I'd be interested to see how it changes over time and how he manages with the new schoolwork compared to his classmates. I imagine he would hold his own at the moment."

"I did take notice of that as well. Even his less than spectacular transfiguration attempts were a small improvement compared to last year," the professor commented, tabling the thoughts of Harry's new schoolwork. If he did unintentional magic in class, it would be impossible to keep from the Dark Lord and it would potentially harm their ruse. "Minerva asked if there could be something that was blocking his magic, which would now be getting demolished by the chemotherapy. It is her opinion that there could be something like that in place; similar to at least one theory about squibs simply having a block on their magical core that cannot be removed."

Albus's eyes widened as he thought this through, "Voldemort's soul fragment? Could the muggle medications be killing it?"

Obviously that was the first place Severus's mind had taken him when Minerva brought it up the previous night. There was nothing he wanted more than to say the chemotherapy would kill the blasted piece of soul, however there was also nothing in his research to support such a claim. Turning his eyes downward, he gravely shook his head.

"I don't believe so," he answered despondently. "All of the texts I've examined come to the same conclusion - the container must be damaged beyond magical repair to release the soul fragment - and Harry would be considered the container. I'm yet to find an alternative theory to save him from that fate."

Albus stood and levitated his tea cup to the sink.

"We are in uncharted territory, my boy. We'll find something. I'll take it from here," the headmaster explained. He placed his hand on the professor's shoulder giving it a small squeeze, "You focus on Harry and Miss. Greengrass."

Without another word, the headmaster left the kitchen with Severus following in his wake. He heard the floo roar before he made it to the sitting room; Albus was gone.

Harry was still sleeping soundly on the sofa and there was less than an hour before Alton would arrive to start his chemotherapy. Usually the professor would have woken up Harry by now, so he could shower and eat his breakfast, however when he knelt down in front of the sofa, Severus couldn't do it. Harry had looked so exhausted after his vision, even though he'd slept well most of the week. The professor placed his hand upon Harry's head as if he were going to push back the fringe of the messy black hair that was missing and held in the tears that threatened to escape. This whole battle was wearing them both down and Severus hoped the next three weeks would go by quickly.

~~~~HP~~~~

Healer Smithe showed up right on time at eight in the morning to collect his blood sample - which seemed pointless as Harry hadn't had chemotherapy in a couple of weeks, so his blood counts should not be too low - and set him up with the antiemetic first. After being up so early that morning from his vision, Harry had overslept and he ended up attempting to eat his breakfast in the sitting room during the antiemetic drip, except he had no appetite and mostly pushed the porridge and fruit around in his bowl.

"You need to eat," Snape reminded Harry as he sat down in the armchair besides the Gryffindor. "You've managed to gain back a little weight and it would be nice if you could keep at least half of it."

"Yeah," Harry sarcastically replied, "I know that, but it doesn't mean I can and I get really tired of hearing people saying that over and over again. It's not like I'm choosing not to eat."

"I am simply trying to make sure you can keep your strength," Snape said, picking up the book on genealogy Harry had seen him now reading more often.

"Who are you looking for in there? And before you say it's none of my concern, I know that already," the young wizard quickly added with a bit more attitude than he intended. "This is called having a conversation and taking an interest in the other person I happen to be living with."

"Don't think you can out Slytherin their Head of House," Snape said peering over the top of the book, "I know exactly what you're doing and it's not going to work."

_That should not have surprised me._

"Did you find anything out about my magic from the tests yesterday?" He gave in and changed the subject.

"Quite a lot actually," Snape started before he was interrupted by Healer Smithe coming through the floo. "Perfect timing Alton, Harry was asking about the results from his magical tests yesterday."

_That sounded more condescending then it should have._

"Wonderful," the healer said, placing his black bag on the table and pulling the day's chemotherapy medications from it. "Why don't we get the Intrathecal done and we'll discuss the results during the one hour medication."

For reasons unknown to him, Harry was more nervous than usual. It was almost like starting chemotherapy all over again, but this time he knew that the triple medication days - IT followed by the one hour IV, then the four hour IV - were the hardest on his body. With his nerves flaring at high speed, he had a difficult time sitting still for the IT and Snape ended up having to physically hold him in place; something he hadn't needed to do in a while. After what felt like hours, but was probably only one, the first medication was started along with the IV of morphine to help prevent the burning pain from his depleting magical core.

Healer Smithe made some notes in what Harry assumed was his ever-growing medical file, then sat down in the armchair across from Snape. Pulling out two pieces of paper, he handed one each to Harry and Snape then started in on the results from his magical testing yesterday, "Based on your previous records, which you can see in green on this report, you have seen a decrease in magical ability across the board. This should not come as a shock to either of you since we've seen the physical symptoms of this occurring with increasing severity during each round.

"Going forward, you'll do the same set of tests on the day prior to each chemotherapy round and after three or four weeks, we should have a better idea of how long it will take for your magic to be completely depleted. Depending on the results, we may start to add a mid-round test to see if there's any loss during the round and replenishment during your break periods. That would mostly be for academic purposes, since the wizarding community has never seen a case of a strong wizard going through chemotherapy."

 _That's fantastic, another reason to be different,_ Harry thought sharply.

Having this conversation literally during his treatment soured his mood significantly. Harry could literally watch the medication going into his port on its way to killing off his magic. Meeting Snape's eyes, he could tell the professor was thinking the same thing he was; that regardless of how little magic he ended up with at the end of all of this, they both knew that was better then how the _other Harry_ ended up using only the potions. Magical levels wouldn't matter if he was dead.

Picking up on his patient's change of attitude, Healer Smithe quickly added, "Remember Harry, nothing is set in stone. This is new territory for all of us. As the chemotherapy decreases over time and your body adjusts to the medications, there is still a good chance the depletion rate can slow down and you'll be left with some kind of magic. Only, it might not be as strong as it used to be."

None of that sounded good to Harry either. In fact, since Snape had told him that he'd been doing magic randomly, he had really hoped for better news than this. Obviously, he couldn't tell either man about how he had gotten his hopes up because he'd feel like a failure for not staying strong through this. All of it brought to the forefront of his mind another question that had been plaguing him. How was it possible that his magic could be potentially strong enough to withstand chemotherapy, yet not strong enough to prevent the cancer in the first place? He hated dwelling in self-pity nonetheless, that was how he felt today.

"A piece of good news," Healer Smithe said joyfully as he tried, unsuccessfully, to raise Harry's spirits, "is that your blood counts looked amazing today. If you keep up with the sanitizing after each guest arrives and continue constant hand washing, you should hopefully get through this phase of consolidation without any further issues, like the pneumonia."

Three weeks. He needed to make it three weeks before they'd do another biopsy and start his next phase. Three weeks and he would be going back to classes because the healer had previously said the next phase should be easier on his body and his immune system. In order to maintain some semblance of sanity, he had been taking this one stage at a time and the next one was coming up, he could almost see the light at the end of this awful tunnel.

"Ok," Healer Smithe called both residents' attention back to him. "It's time to get you started on the four hour and then I'm needed back at the hospital most of today, so Madam Pomfrey will be back for the removal."

It didn't matter to the Gryffindor which person came to remove the chemo line; after all this time, Madam Pomfrey was just as capable as Healer Smithe. Snape, on the other hand, seemed to care more than he did because the look in his professor's eyes showed a skepticism Harry couldn't place. He was sure he'd seen a look like that from the man before and it caused him to panic for a second inside of himself.

Unfortunately, Snape had been right when he said it would be a rough day. By lunchtime, Harry was too nauseated to even consider eating, which did not go unnoticed by Snape. During the first two hours of the chemotherapy, they tried to play wizard's chess and card games, then Harry tried to get some school work done and sketch; all to no avail. Nothing could distract him from the vomiting and the pain that had started deep within his stomach. Snape fussed about their quarters trying to find any which way to help ease the Gryffindor's pain. In the end, Harry was laying on his side facing away from the professor, with one pillow against his lower back and another between his knees, trying to think of any way to distract himself from how he was feeling.

"Severus," Harry called out a little louder than he'd expected for the professor was back to sitting in the armchair next to him. "Do you think he plans when he's going to torture me with a vision?"

"I had hoped you'd fallen asleep," Snape responded, placing the genealogy book and his notebook onto his lap.

"No such luck yet," Harry said, rotating just enough to see Snape.

"Why do you think he's planning it?" The professor asked clearly fishing to see what Harry suspected before giving up any information. Harry had lived with the man long enough to know some of his stalling tactics.

"Well," The young wizard continued breathing heavily through the pain, "I've had a vision during each round of the _hell week_ of my consolidation so far."

"Please elaborate," Snape replied formally; more formal than Harry wanted to hear, leading him to believe the man knew something, otherwise he'd already told Harry he was wrong.

"Well, the first one was the Burrow," Harry was now laying flat on his back and started counting on his fingers to make a point, "then the one of finding Charlie's body at the ministry... Draco's initiation and now Privet Drive. I think those line up correctly."

"Technically, the Burrow vision wasn't before any chemotherapy," the professor corrected; rather quickly Harry thought, "however I also do not believe that vision was intentionally sent. It followed a little more closely to your visions of last year where the Dark Lord was not aware you could see them, correct?"

Harry nervously played with the hem on his shirt, "Yeah... Except for the last one of course."

"Obviously," Snape replied in a voice that sounded just as painful as Harry felt inside.

"But the other three line up right?" Harry was focusing all his might on the ceiling afraid that if he turned his head he'd start vomiting again as a wave of dizziness came over him.

"Are you alright?" Snape asked, ignoring the question that was asked to him. Harry had no idea the professor had gotten up from the armchair until he was kneeling besides the sofa. Harry closed his eyes when Snape's hand brushed lightly against his forehead, "You don't have a fever."

"I'm..." Harry was attempting to respond until he found himself reaching over for the pail which Snape quickly held out for him and he started vomiting into it. When the heaving stopped, Harry stayed leaning over the pail and with a trembling breath said, "I'm fine... Now answer... my question..."

"Unless one of us would like to visit the Dark Lord and demand he tell us his master plan, there is no definitive proof," Snape said helping Harry take a sip of the ginger ale that has been sitting beside his uneaten lunch on the table, and then assisted him in laying back onto his side on the sofa, "However, the headmaster and I agree with your assessment. There is likely a correlation between your chemotherapy schedule and these other visions."

"How does he know?" The Gryffindor asked confused. He didn't want to sound whiny nevertheless he knew he did, "I mean, could it be because we haven't really done more Occlumency? Like, he's getting it from my own mind?"

"It could be something like that," Snape said noncommittally and the young wizard hardly noticed. "There are many options on the table right now regarding this subject. Whatever the reason may be, we will be working on Occlumency some more once you're feeling stronger. That should stop the visions regardless of the reasoning."

Feeling the injustice against him for once again having Voldemort attacking him on top of all the other battles he was fighting, Harry swiped at his eyes to hide his tears. He didn't want to appear weak in front of Snape; not necessarily because he would belittle the Gryffindor anymore, instead it was because he wanted to earn the man's respect.

Poppy came by around four o'clock that evening to unhook his chemo line from his port as expected and change out his morphine to a new bag. With the fresh pain medication, the young wizard didn't try to fight it when his eyes became heavy and he fell into a restless sleep. This was the best part of chemo days, when he could succumb to the darkness - now if only Voldemort would leave him alone during those few restful moments.

* * *

The next time Harry awoke it was mostly dark in the room. The lanterns in the corners illuminated the walls in a soft yellow glow and through the enchanted window, he could see rain was falling sideways in sheets out by the black lake with flashes of lightning streaking across the already black sky. He was happy to be living in the dungeons at that moment because even though he normally wasn't afraid of storms, a rain like this in the tower was loud enough to frighten him just a little bit.

Immediately upon sitting up, Harry grabbed for the pail and started to forcefully vomit into it. Having skipped lunch completely and his breakfast being long gone, only the acid bile with speckles of black came out. This time, the young wizard took note of the black speckles throughout the vomit and thought to question Snape about it the next time he saw the man.

_I should get a notebook to start keeping track of all this... Like Severus is doing._

The last thought hit him hard inside. That was what a father would do for his son and it was a small detail that had been missing his whole life with his aunt and uncle; someone to pay attention to what he was going through, to think about these things before he did, and someone to go to when you had a question knowing the man would find the answer if he didn't already know it. Being honest with himself, Harry was terrified about it no matter how good it made him feel inside. After Sirius's death, he had more or less forced himself to start accepting the fact that he was destined to be parent-less and alone. Yet here he was living with the most unlikely of a father figure and it made him happy inside; he was content, like this is where he belonged. It made him want to know more about the life he never got to live with the man and at the same time start envisioning where they could end up. What would happen when Harry graduated from Hogwarts? He couldn't imagine never seeing Snape again.

"Severus?" Harry heard from the floo. It was so unexpected, the teen literally jumped and almost fell from the sofa, giving him a flashback to the first day he'd seen Malfoy over the summer. Placing his glasses back on - Snape must have removed them after he'd fallen asleep - he saw the floating face of Dumbledore in the floo. After quick search of the room, Harry saw the light shining underneath the door to Snape's office.

"He's in his office professor," Harry said contemplating if he could make it to the office to tell Snape. "Do you need me to get him?"

"No, that's quite alright Harry," the headmaster said in a calm voice, "would it be ok if I came through?"

"Sure," Harry replied knowing that the professor wouldn't mind his employer coming into the quarters that technically belonged to Hogwarts.

Less than a half minute later, the headmaster was standing in the sitting room and Harry attempted to sit up, but was still too exhausted. At this point, the day had completely worn down his already weak body.

"Is everything ok sir?" The young Gryffindor asked warily. "It's not Privet Drive is it?"

"Everything is under control Harry," the elderly wizard replied.

Harry recognized the deflection from his question and it didn't really make him feel much better about the whole thing. Not wanting to sound ungrateful to the headmaster, Harry chose to not to say another thing about it. Dumbledore bid Harry goodbye before he made his way over to Snape's office and bravely walked in without knocking first.

Finally able to sit up, Harry leaned against the back of the sofa with his eyes closed waiting to see if the recent wave of nausea would pass. When it didn't, he ended up back over the pail - taking note, yet again, at the black speckles littering the bottom of the pail - before both Dumbledore and Snape came bustling out of the office.

"Hi sir," Harry said sheepishly knowing both wizards likely at least heard - if not saw - his latest sick up. "Are you ok?"

"I shall be fine," Snape said very precisely, taking a seat on the sofa next to Harry. "Can you eat? Maybe some broth for dinner or a smoothie?"

"It's worth a try," The Gryffindor said rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't think much else though."

"That will do," the professor said, turning back to the headmaster, who had a far away look in his eyes, and cryptically said, "I'll make the necessary arrangements Albus."

Harry watched as the headmaster nodded then floo'ed somewhere Harry could not hear.

_What arrangements does Snape need to make?_

Harry never got to ask because as Snape was coming back out from the kitchen, with a tray filled with a bowl of chicken broth with vegetables for Harry to eat alongside a smoothie, floating in front of him, several things happened seemingly all at once. The professor hissed in pain and dropped to the floor holding his left forearm, causing him to lose his concentration and then subsequently the tray to crash to the floor; the loud echos vibrated across the stone dungeon walls and the steaming soup pooled onto the floor. No sooner had Harry gotten up from the sofa and down to his mentor's side that a piece of parchment appeared directly in front of Harry's face that had _Draco Malfoy_ written on it.

"Get the door," the former Death Eater hissed to Harry grimly.

"But sir," Harry tried to explain that surely Snape's pain was more important than whatever the blonde needed at that moment.

"Go let Draco in," Snape insisted through his clenched teeth, "Now!"

The urgency in his voice got Harry moving faster than he had after any of his treatments. Somehow he couldn't put two and two together that Malfoy was being summoned by the same burning that Snape was now feeling.

The Gryffindor pulled the door open and almost jumped at the sight of Malfoy dressed in plain black robes holding what Harry knew was his Death Eater mask peeking out beneath them.

"It's about time Potter," Malfoy said pushing passed Harry. "Is Severus here?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, still in a daze from seeing the Death Eater attire. "He's near the sitting room."

Except Snape was no longer kneeling on the floor by the fallen tray of soup. When the two teens entered the sitting room, the professor was briskly walking out from his office dressed in his travelling cloak.

"Harry," Snape said, urgently drawing Harry's undivided attention to him, "I need to get Draco out beyond the anti-apparation wards so he can answer his summons. Then I'm needed at headquarters for the Order. I don't care what happens while I'm gone, you are not to leave our quarters for any reason. I will send for someone to stay with you if I find I'll be there long."

The Gryffindor's breathing started to increase as he understood what was going on. Dumbledore must have expected something like this to happen; that was why Snape said he needed to make arrangements. His vision was going to happen if the Order didn't get there to stop Voldemort first.

"Go sir!" the Gryffindor said suddenly finding his voice, "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just... Be careful alright."

"Of course I will," Snape said, giving Harry a sad glance before he turned around -grabbing Draco by the arm in the process - and not so gently escorted him out of their home.

Harry was scared. Would Snape be going into the potential battle to fight against the Death Eaters? What would happen if Snape got hurt? What if he died? Harry could feel the grief swelling up inside of him at the thought of Snape dead; bringing him back to his boggart from yesterday.

Between the chemotherapy and the anxiety of whatever was happening almost 500 miles away, Harry wasn't surprised when he ended up in the lavatory sitting against the wall opposite of the loo. His knees were drawn and he had his arms resting upon them cradling his head. Each time he vomited there was more of the black speckled bile he never got a chance to ask Snape about. The burning pain in his stomach was at its worst and he silently questioned when Madam Pomfrey would be back with more morphine.

Deciding he needed a change of scenery - and perhaps something to eat, if for no other reason then to give his stomach something to actually sick up - he pulled himself from the cold stone floor. He had no idea what time it was, how long Snape and Malfoy had been gone, or what time they would be back. That last one weighed heaviest on his mind. It very well could be the middle of the night or early hours of the morning before either of them returned.

Heading back into the sitting room, he smiled at the bowl of soup sitting upright on the table. A quick check of the clock on the mantle and Harry sighed; Snape and Malfoy had only been gone for an hour. Likely nothing really had even happened yet. Lifting his hand to press on his tingling scar, the Boy-Who-Lived almost wished it would start to hurt so he could know what was going on.

He was approaching the sofa when a wave of burning pain started radiating throughout his insides causing him to drop to his knees doubling over onto the floor. Sweat instantly started to bead up on his forehead and he couldn't hold back the vomit until he could get to the pail just out of his reach. Frustrated that now he'd have to clean the floor before Snape came home, the vomit suddenly disappeared leaving behind a sparkling clean floor and a confused wizard.

The floo sprung to life with bright green flames and Healer Smithe stepped out. While the Gryffindor had always been used to being alone and taking care of himself, he'd gotten used to someone being here for him during the worst parts of chemotherapy; like how he felt at that moment. So when his healer - with his friendly, kind face and voice - stepped into the sitting room Harry silently thanked Snape for sending the man to stay with him even after the young wizard said he would be fine alone.

"Harry!" the healer called, rushing over to help the sick teenager up from the floor and onto the sofa. "Where is Severus?"

"He got called out with the headmaster. I take it he sent you to stay with me?" The Gryffindor asked too distracted to notice the confusion cross his healer's face.

"Yes... Something like that," the man sitting next to him said, confidently rubbing small circles around Harry's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Plans Change - Part 2


	38. Plans Change - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back-to-back Update!
> 
> A/N: I had several comments (across all the platforms) from the last chapter of why Snape didn't tell Harry about his healer. As I was getting ready to say that it must not have been pointed out well enough, I realized it's in this chapter! Remember how they were written as one chapter? Well, I apparently split the explanation from the last chapter since it wouldn't be in Harry's POV. This chapter starts with Snape's POV from mid-day and will go over why he didn't take the opportunity to explain it when Harry asked about the visions.
> 
> As always, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, I cannot even begin to tell you how much they're appreciated! I hope you all like this chapter!

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus absolutely hated that he had been correct about this round of chemotherapy being particularly difficult on Harry. It seemed outside of the magical core depletion - from either Harry's magic or the soul fragment's - the Gryffindor's body had gotten at least a little used to the medications previously, and now that he had been free from the chemotherapy for so long it was like he was starting over. In addition to the burning, Harry was plagued with some of the worst nausea and vomiting since Privet Drive. Of course, the teen had only eaten about half of his breakfast during the pre-chemo medications and didn't even touch his lunch - an occurrence that was pretty typical during these longer chemotherapy days - so his stomach didn't have much to sick up in the first place, making the situation much harder on him.

It was difficult for the professor to watch the boy he cared about more than anything else, not have enough energy to even make it to the loo; which was abnormal for Harry. If Severus would let him, the Gryffindor would camp out in the lavatory just so he could avoid using the dreaded pail. Yet this afternoon, Harry hadn't even attempted to leave the sitting room for either the lavatory or his bedroom. In the last couple of hours, Severus had tried everything he could think of to ease Harry's pain and nausea - everything except ripping the IV out and that was only because he had used all of his Occlumency skills not to do it knowing the chemotherapy was actually what was best for him.

Right before Poppy arrived, to finally end the chemo, Harry had asked him about the Dark Lord's timing on the visions. As promised, Severus was honest with Harry in telling him that they had thought the visions were not random, however when the Gryffindor didn't make the connection to how Voldemort somehow knew his chemotherapy schedule, Severus did not offer any further explanations. Yes it was a lie of omission, nevertheless, the last thing any of them needed was Harry being paranoid on top of his current condition. Once things calmed down - maybe as they got closer to the next phase of consolidation - Severus planned to sit Harry down and explain what was happening with the visions and Healer Smithe's involvement in them. In his mind, he managed to justify this by the simple fact that there would not be a reason for Harry to be left alone with Alton.

The defense professor was now in his study - trying unsuccessfully to catch up on his marking - relieved that the new morphine Poppy brought had allowed Harry the ability to finally fall asleep. In his mind, he naturally wondered how the rescue mission planning with Draco had gone throughout the day. Without knowing for certain if the Dark Lord would be summoning his followers for a raid tonight, the best they could do was be ready to go should information come in - most likely via Severus's dark mark burning - of the Death Eaters on the move. If, or when, that signal came, they would need to quickly assemble at headquarters and then head out to utilize the little time they would be given to accomplish both tasks. The former spy did not envy any of the witches or wizards that would be on call tonight.

Deciding that his brain could not currently focus on his marking, Severus pulled out his notebook and added what he had discussed with Albus today about the Horcrux, the side effects Harry was experiencing, and his use of his unintentional magic. There was now enough data to see a pattern emerging as his unintentional magic had decreased in frequency when the chemotherapy stopped; showing a direct correlation between the medications and the unintentional magic. While the frequency decreased without the chemotherapy, the strength and complexity stayed the same, leading the professor to believe that whatever the chemotherapy was doing, it was either making Harry's inherent magic stronger in spurts or breaking down some potential block as Minerva suggested.

Placing his quill down, Severus rubbed his eyes. There was no denying that he was exhausted. The early morning wake up call along with the emotional drain of the chemotherapy day had completely worn him down and now after he'd finished a quick dinner at his office desk, he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep knowing with Harry asleep now, he was not likely to get much tonight. Naturally, that was when Albus entered his office without even the slightest attempt at knocking.

"Severus," the professor lifted his head from his notes and met Albus's blue eyes. The headmaster sat in the chair before his desk causing Severus to become uncomfortable with the change of position from their normal meetings in the headmaster's office. "We have confirmation of activity at Malfoy Manor. It is time."

"From whom did you hear this?" The former Death Eater asked skeptically; vanishing the notebook back to its original location on the bookshelf.

"I had Remus and Kingsley watching over the area all day," the Headmaster explained seriously, "they've just returned to headquarters giving word that his followers - presumably lower level ones - are arriving. We need to go."

"I am not going anywhere," Severus reminded the man in front of him, "Harry has had an extremely difficult day and I cannot leave him to go fight Death Eaters."

"We need you Severus," Albus looked upon him with eyes that clearly showed the confliction within them. "If we are going to attempt a rescue as well as try to prevent whatever raid they're planning, we need everyone's help. I'm calling a mandatory Order meeting tonight and you're needed to at least to make sure everyone is prepared. I will not ask you to go to the Manor."

Severus scowled. It wasn't ideal, but it wouldn't be the first time he had to leave Harry for an order meeting. The former spy would feel the summons regardless of if Draco was called or not - there was no way the Dark Lord would go on a muggle raid as large as Harry saw and not call his inner circle - and once he got the summons, they would be on limited time to get in place. Somehow he managed to convince himself he wouldn't be gone for too long anyways.

"Fine," the younger professor conceded, "Though if we're anticipating a summons tonight, I must stay to help Draco to the anti-apparation point should he be called."

"Then we shall get started without you and see you afterwards," said the headmaster calmly, standing to signal his leave and Severus mirrored his actions.

Feeling resentment fill him inside at essentially being forced into the decision, he walked out of the office hoping he could get Harry to eat something before he was called. The irony was not lost on the professor that tonight he would technically be answering a summons request for the first time since the morning of the Privet Drive attack, on a night where that same street was being targeted yet again; this time he would simply be standing beside a different master.

* * *

**_"Go sir!" the Gryffindor said suddenly finding his voice, "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just... Be careful alright."_ **

Harry's last request to be careful rang through his ears as he apparated to Headquarters. When was the last time someone had told _him_ to be careful? Why would Harry think he needed to be careful anyway? He would not be going into the field tonight; he was simply going to make sure everyone was set for the mission, and then he would be returning to Hogwarts. It would be quick, easy, and painless.

Grimmauld Place was bustling to the brim with activity when Severus walked through the door; witches and wizards were scattered around the room in groups going through the last minute preparations for the night's plans. Walking further into the room, his presence alone confirmed to the Order that Voldemort summoned at least his inner circle of followers and caused a moment of pure silence.

"You will have a maximum of thirty minutes before the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters vacate their headquarters," he commanded standing before the intricately drawn out map on the board at the front of the table. "If you are not in place by then, you might as well scrap the whole mission."

" _If_ Draco Malfoy can be trusted-" Moody started, meeting Severus at the head of the table, but Severus immediately cut him off. Clearly something had not gone well in the planning earlier today.

"If you already do not trust Mr. Malfoy, this will be a suicide mission for your whole team," the former Death Eater lectured sternly. "We have no reason to believe our informant would be working against us. You will do well to remember that his intel comes at a high price to his personal safety. Should the Dark Lord suspect he was the one to provide us this information, I guarantee you he will not be returning from tonight's raid. I expect you all to keep that in the forefront of your minds tonight."

Not a single other person in the room said a word as they laid out their plans for the two teams - one heading to Privet Drive, lead by Shacklebolt to meet the team of Aurors that had been sent when reports of strange activity came through the muggle authorities, and the other, lead by Moody, would be deployed to Malfoy Manor in hopes of rescuing Sarah and Mary Smithe. It took fifteen of their thirty minutes to determine that by splitting the teams, they not only lost all of the reconnaissance at Malfoy Manor, but they also didn't have nearly the coverage to successfully pull off the operation in the first place.

"Remember, there will be significantly less guards to deal with," Lupin suggested. "So theoretically we won't have the need for such a large coverage as originally planned."

"While that may be true Remus," Moody gruffly argued and Severus got the impression that Albus did not share their earlier discussion with the rest of the team, "it's still too much of a risk. I would feel more comfortable if we could get a few more names on our end."

Severus studied the list of witches and wizards that would be going to Privet Drive versus Malfoy Manor. In addition to Shacklebolt; Tonks, Diggle, Doge, and Fletcher would be going to Privet Drive and Severus didn't really feel comfortable moving any of them to the Malfoy Manor team. The Manor list, in addition to Moody consisted of Lupin, Arthur Weasley, Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour, and Hestia Jones. Severus obviously knew even with the lighter guard duty, it was far less people than they should attempt with. He was just about to argue that unless they had at least four more names - bringing the total to ten - they should cancel, when three more names appeared below Hestia Jones', from three wands pointing towards the board -

_Fred Weasley_

_George Weasley_

_Minerva McGonagall_

In the back of the room, Molly stood - likely to argue about the Weasley twins joining - when the final name was added right underneath Minerva's.

_Severus Snape_

"We leave in five," Severus said, placing his wand back into his robe and ignoring Albus's elated glare. Harry would understand why he had to add his name to the list; why he had to be there. The professor ignored the talking around him as he passed by everyone on his way to Molly Weasley.

"Molly," he gestured her to a quieter corner of the room, "I know you'll be staying here with Poppy to handle any injuries, but could you please send a message to Ron asking him and Hermione to go stay with Harry? He's had a bad reaction to the treatments today and I don't know when I'll make it back there."

"Of course Severus," she reassured him, watching the man carefully as his hand trembled slightly when he rubbed his forehead. "I'll take care of it, don't you worry one more second about it."

"Thank you," he said; his voice trying to convey his gratitude as much as he could while at the same time, he was thinking about infiltrating the darkest wizard's headquarters.

"Let's move!" Moody called loudly over the conversations throughout the room. They had no way of knowing if the Death Eaters would have left until they apparated to their meeting point and immediately cast disillusionment charms on themselves.

"He'll be proud of you, Severus," Albus whispered into the professor's ear as they headed to the door ready to disapparate. "I'll be here when you return."

_Hopefully we all return unscathed._

~~~~HP~~~~

To say that Harry was happy to see his healer walk out of the floo to stay with him, would be an understatement. Even though he'd told Snape he would be fine alone, the pain was getting unmanageable and having someone physically next to him somehow made it easier.

"I've brought you another set of morphine," Healer Smithe said handing Harry a glass of water that was sitting on the table in front of him, "seems to be right on time."

"I'd say it's a little late sir; no offense," Harry gave a weak chuckle; his body was shivered in pain.

"Not to worry. Madam Pomfrey mentioned today has been a bad one, so I've brought a higher dose. I was really hoping the pain would have backed down a bit after the break," Healer Smithe checked the bag that was currently attached and started to remove it.

"If anything..." Harry managed to get out between labored breaths, "it made it... Worse."

"This should definitely help," the healer explained. "If it's no difference to you, I'm going to take out the IV in your hand and move this one to the port. I think you'll be more comfortable."

"That's fine," Harry answered, hardly aware of anything going on around him. "Can I ask you a question though?"

"Of course you can Harry; I'm your healer, you can ask me anything," the kind voice trailed into the young wizard's ears calming his nerves just a little.

"I've started to get these black speckly things in my vomit," Harry asked with his eyes still closed; he could feel the healer flushing his port getting it ready to use. "Is that normal?"

Healer Smithe paused what he was doing, "Definitely not. Black vomiting can be blood, so I'll just run some extra tests to be sure everything looks alright in your stomach."

"Nothing else feels any different," Harry explained pressing onto his tender stomach. Now probably was not the best time to claim he was feeling fine.

Once the healer had his port hooked up to the morphine, Harry instantly felt the tickle from a diagnostic charm. Simultaneously, a piece of parchment popped up in front of his face with _Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Dudley Dursle_ y. His friends should know he wouldn't be up for visitors on his first day back to chemotherapy and the last thing he wanted to do was move at the moment.

"My friends are at the door," Harry groaned, "would you mind letting them know I don't feel up for company tonight?"

The diagnostic charm ended abruptly and Healer Smithe asked, "Are you sure? You didn't call them?"

"No," Harry shook his head making his stomach lurch; he really did feel like death warmed over, "I'm guessing they're just checking in on me. Probably want to know how the magic test-"

Before Harry could finish his sentence, he was leaning over the edge of the sofa vomiting into the pail. As he'd expected, large, black speckles could be seen momentarily before the pail self-cleaned.

"Did you see that?" Harry asked leaning back against the sofa.

"Yes I did," Healer Smithe answered, pulling out a container from his black bag and handing it to the Gryffindor, "as odd as it sounds, next time I need you to vomit in here and I'll take it to hospital to test. This one will not self-clean it away."

No part of that sounded enjoyable to Harry and he grimaced at merely the thought of saving his vomit. Breathing slowly, another piece of parchment popped up in front of his face with the same three names written on it.

"I'll go let them know to come back tomorrow," the healer said with a small smile on his face. "Perhaps you'll be feeling a little better then."

"Don't I have a four hour treatment tomorrow?" Harry asked both hopeful and confused. How could his healer forget his chemo schedule? In his current negative thoughts he added, "I'm probably not going to feel much better until Wednesday."

"Yes you do have a four hour tomorrow, but Harry remember after this, it's two easier rounds. Hang in there and it _will_ get better," he said heading towards the door.

_Easy for him to say, he's not the one sitting here._

Harry closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep, having no idea how he would sleep feeling as sick as he was. With the door so close to the sitting room, the young wizard strained his ears to hear the reaction from his friends, but he couldn't really hear too much of what was being said. He was relieved he would not have to tell them to go away. For the most part, they had been great through all of this, it was just that right now he only wanted Severus.

 _Great, now I sound like a child,_ Harry thought with a groan.

The murmuring from the doorway was getting louder and Harry questioned to himself if perhaps there was an emergency that had brought his friends and cousin down to the dungeons. Giving yet another groan, he pushed himself up from the sofa and slowly walked to the door; pulling his IV stand along with him.

Healer Smithe was standing in - or more accurately, blocking - the doorway preventing Harry from seeing through it as he approached.

"Hey guys," he called out getting all of their attention. Healer Smithe moved over to allow Harry access to the doorway. "What's going on? Everything ok?"

"My mum asked for us to come stay with you," Ron offered immediately, "she said Snape might not be back for a while and he wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine," Harry said ignoring Hermione's overtly questionable glare, "I just don't really feel up for anyone being here right now."

"You shouldn't be alone during this Harry," it was Dudley who had spoken up. "C'mon, I saw you back home and don't mind staying with you again."

"Listen, I appreciate it... I really do," Harry tried again, "I'm not alone; Healer Smithe is here. I'm going to try to eat and go to bed; that's it. Why don't you guys come by tomorrow?"

There was a pregnant pause as the Gryffindors stared between one another.

Hermione finally broke the silence by saying sadly, "Of course Harry."

The young witch pulled Ron's elbow away from the door in an endearing fashion. Harry peered out at the exchange between his two best friends and almost imperceptibly nodded his head before he closed the door. Leaning his back against the door, he closed his eyes trying to push away the thoughts flashing in his mind of his friends continuing their life without him there. It wasn't like he expected them to stop living because he couldn't be with them, but the image of everyone hanging out in the Gryffindor common room or at the library - not as likely on a Saturday night unless Ron was really trying to impress Hermione - before getting told to stop what they were doing to come stay with him, was too much.

"Harry?" Healer Smithe pulled the Gryffindor forward towards the sitting room. "You need to try to eat something. I have a feeling you haven't had anything all day."

Too exhausted to say or do anything, Harry allowed the man to walk him back over to the sofa. His bowl of broth was still warm and he took a tentatively spoonful feeling the warmth soothe the back of his raw throat.

"Do you have any idea of what's going on tonight? Wherever Severus is?" The young wizard asked hoping to get at least some kind of insight into what Snape was doing, and more specifically if he was safe.

"Unfortunately, no I don't," Healer Smithe said picking up a file from his black bag and settling into the armchair on the right. "Now that you've eaten a bit, try to get some rest. Do you want to go to your bedroom?"

For some reason Harry didn't want to sleep in his bedroom when he was feeling this sick. His room had become a place of calm for him and he didn't want to associate it with negative feelings, like his cupboard back at the Dursleys. Not only that, the sofa was comfortable and he'd know the moment Snape came home.

"No it's ok," the Gryffindor yawned, feeling more tired then he would have anticipated, "I think I'll sleep here until Severus gets home."

His mind was getting cloudy and his eyes were heavy with a combination of exhaustion and the higher dose of pain medication. Feeling himself drifting off to sleep, he silently hoped that Snape would stay safe and all was going well wherever he was.

* * *

" _Stupefy_!"

The first thing Harry heard when coming back into consciousness sounded like furniture breaking and then a loud crash to his right. Confused in his still sleepy state, the Gryffindor blinked his eyes slightly open and instinctively reached for his wand, completely forgetting that it was back to being safely stored on his bedside table in his bedroom. Since he had fallen asleep with his glasses on, he could see around the dim room, but didn't get too far before he heard another hex coming from near the fireplace in front of him.

" _Incarcerous_!"

Harry covered his head expecting the spell to be directed at him. When he found he could still freely move, he lifted his head to see what had happened throughout the room.

Panic filled inside of him when he saw Malfoy standing in front of the fireplace, his black robes tattered and torn with the Death Eater mask laying directly at his feet. His pointed face was littered with cuts and scrapes; most of which were actively bleeding leaving brown-red trails contrasted against his pale skin. The Slytherin's normally pristine white blonde hair was disheveled with bits of sticks and leaves coming out at odd angles and there was something else about the other boy that Harry couldn't place; something was different about him though.

Despite all of that going on with Malfoy, it wasn't any of that which caught Harry's attention; instead it was that the other teen still had his wand raised directly at Healer Smithe. The healer was now face down unconscious on the floor directly in front of the armchair Harry last remembered seeing him in and was tied with thick ropes - three around his arms and two around his legs - with a small trickle of blood coming from somewhere on his head or face onto the floor.

"What the fuck Malfoy?!" Harry swore standing up so quickly he was immediately hit with a wave of dizziness and nausea requiring him to sit back down. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Protecting your sorry arse," Draco spat. He quickly walked over to the healer, and not-so-gently kicked him with his black boot, then rolled him over until he was flat on his back. Harry could now see that the trickle of blood had been from the healer's nose which had clearly been broken when he fell to the floor.

"Oh really? He's not the one dressed like a Death Eater," Harry replied back, "You have two seconds to tell me what's going on before I..."

He paused. What could he do? His wand was in his bedroom and even if he could summon it wandlessly, Malfoy would take him down before it made it anywhere near his hand. He had no idea how to control what little bit of magic he may have been able to do randomly, so that was not helpful in his current situation. Literally he was stuck defenseless.

"I'm not going to hurt you alright?" Draco said sensing Harry's panic and in return tossed his wand onto the floor in front of Harry on the sofa; the Gryffindor immediately picked it up.

Content that the healer was completely unconscious and wouldn't get out of the ropes, the Slytherin sat down directly next to Harry - a rather bold move in Harry's opinion - and said, "You need to talk to Professor Snape about it for all the details, though if you think back doesn't it seem a little odd that you haven't been alone with your healer since you woke up from the pneumonia? There's always the off chance I'm wrong, but I don't think that's normal for a patient/healer relationship do you?"

 _Of course he's wrong,_ Harry instinctively thought...

Except he wasn't. Someone - usually Snape or Madam Pomfrey - had always been with him when Healer Smithe was there. And one of them was always checking over his medications whenever the healer gave them to him; they were doing that even before the pneumonia. Another wave of nausea hit Harry hard as the realization swarmed over him and he was again vomiting into the pail.

"You're wrong," Harry said wishing he could keep the quivering out of his voice. "He's had plenty of time to kill me if he wanted to."

"I'm not getting into that with you," Malfoy replied sharply. "All I know is that Professor Snape wouldn't have left him here with you alone, and that's exactly what it looked like when I floo'ed in."

Harry simply stared at the teen he'd somehow come to an unofficial truce with, at least before he attacked Healer Smithe.

"Why should I trust you?"

"For one, because my wand is in your hand; if I wanted to kill you I won't be able to now" the Slytherin gave a small chuckle watching Harry pass the wand between his hands. "For two, because your instincts are probably screaming at you that I'm right and no matter what stupid things you've gotten yourself into, generally speaking, you have good instincts."

He was right, which infuriated Harry more. Snape's wards wouldn't let just anyone floo into their home, especially if that person were Polyjuiced, and something deep inside Harry told him something was off with Healer Smithe. Looking back at all the little signs, he was surprised he hadn't noticed it sooner; of course he'd been a little distracted trying to stay alive from the Leukemia and all that came with that.

"Is Professor Snape back yet?" Malfoy asked, trying to hide the fear in his eyes. That's what Harry was missing earlier; there was a look of terror deep within Malfoy's grey eyes that had not been there before. Harry felt his stomach drop.

"No," the Gryffindor said concerned, "he's not here. He went to headquarters after taking you through the anti-apparation wards."

It had been several hours since both Slytherins had left Hogwarts and Harry was now nervous that something bad had happened. If Malfoy didn't know where Snape was, then where was the man?

"Was he wherever you were," Harry asked, gesturing with a slight nod of his head to Malfoy's odd appearance. "I'm guessing you were torturing muggles?"

"We were supposed to, except the Aurors showed up and it turned into a battle on some random muggle street," Malfoy said without any malice to his voice.

"And you fought?"

"Of course I did," he answered refusing to look Harry in the eyes. "If I hadn't, I probably would not have made it out alive."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Harry remembered all too well his experiences fighting against wizards who surpassed his own level of dueling. It was terrifying. All it took was one missed hex, one stray curse and it could all be over. Of course, he'd been fighting against the Death Eaters, so if he died at least it would have been with honor. If Malfoy died fighting alongside the Death Eaters tonight... Well, that was different.

"Was Professor Snape there too?" Harry asked nervously realizing that Malfoy never actually answered his initial question.

"He wasn't supposed to be," Malfoy explained narrowing his eyes in thought, "If he went anywhere besides the Order's headquarters, he was probably at the Dark Lord's headquarters."

"Why the hell would Snape go there?" It made no sense. He wouldn't really go back to Voldemort knowing he'd be killed on the spot if he were discovered.

If Malfoy was going to offer him an explanation, he never got the chance to because the floo roared to life and Remus stepped out supporting an injured Snape who appeared to be in extreme pain. Both men had blood coming from the plethora of cuts and gashes on their faces and Snape was clutching at his left side, while limping out of the floo. It was clear to the teenagers that something went very wrong that night and Harry's heart practically stopped.

~~~~ AU SS ~~~~

_"It's not funny Severus!" Harry yelled from the other side of the dinner table._

_The Potions Master should have expected something like this was coming the moment Harry asked to have dinner in their quarters that night. He tried his hardest to keep a straight face, to no avail, and not at all due to the topic of conversation, but due to Harry's horrified face._

_"You might disagree if you were sitting on my side of the table," Severus simply replied. "Professor McGonagall literally held you after class just to make sure you knew you needed a date to the Yule Ball?"_

_"Yes... she did," Harry's cheeks flushed as he admitted that. "Oh wait, she didn't say date... she said dance partner. It was still just as embarrassing. What am I supposed to do?!"_

_Taking a sip of his wine, Severus couldn't help thinking about how ironic this situation was; never would anyone voluntarily come to Severus Snape for advice on dating. He'd never truly dated and honestly had no intentions on it now. Yet here he was, sitting across from his 14-year old son who had been thrust into this situation because his name was placed into the Goblet of Fire against his will. Getting him out of the whole tournament was a completely different issue he was still feverishly working through._

_"I think it is rather obvious," he said to Harry, "you need to ask someone to go with you, otherwise you'll be standing alone while the other champions lead off the dancing around you. I imagine it won't be particularly difficult given your unique position."_

_"That's what Ron said," Harry huffed. "I can't ask a girl to the dance!"_

_Trying to keep his mind open, Severus narrowed his eyes and asked, "A boy then?"_

_If it were possible, Harry's entire face turned another three shades redder, "That's not the reason!"_

_"My apologies," the professor said, quickly raising his hands in defeat. "Then what is the reason?"_

_The Gryffindor pushed his carrots around his plate, "For one, I can't dance... Then, I don't even know who I would ask, and I definitely have no idea what to say to ask."_

_"The what to say part is easy, 'Do you want to go with me to the Yule Ball' is generally a good way to start," Severus explained sarcastically. "The first one I can help; though I will give you a fair warning that I am not a very established dancer, however you won't be completely inept at it._

_"As for_ **_whom_ ** _to ask? You have to figure that out for yourself. My recommendation is to think if there is any particular person you'd have a good time with; don't overthink it Harry, you're only fourteen."_

_Severus had been wrong; Harry's face could absolutely get redder. It wasn't as if this was an easy conversation for him either. At some point, every parent knew this type of conversation was bound to happen, and the Potions Master had not been looking forward to it. Having had no real father figure growing up, Severus was trying his hardest to do right by Harry. Times like these though, he wished he had some decent memories of his own upbringing to draw upon._

_"Well, there is someone..." Harry trailed off exceedingly embarrassed and Severus was sure his own face matched his son's discomfort at this point._

_"As I'm likely the professor to this student, please tread carefully," he warned, unsure how that could impact the situation either way._

_Harry's head fell onto his hands on the table in front of him and he mumbled from the table, "I didn't even think about that! You'll be there too, won't you?"_

_"Yes, I am unfortunately required to chaperone the event," the professor said, unhappy with the fact he couldn't get out of it no matter how hard he had tried. "It will be fine Harry."_

_"Who taught you to dance?" Harry asked suddenly, lifting his head with a curious expression on his face._

_"Your mother," Severus said with a layer of grief in his voice he could never keep away when talking about Lily. It wasn't only that it was difficult to discuss because he had loved her so much; it was also because remembering her reminded him about the two biggest mistakes of his life. At least now he could say something good came from all of that destruction - he has Harry._

_"She would have loved the idea of the Yule Ball; a reason to get dressed up and dance," Severus continued remembering his best and only friend. "She also would know exactly what to tell you about how to ask whomever it is you are interested in."_

_Harry sat there silent and Severus could see him deeply contemplating some odd thought in his head. The Gryffindor worried his lower lip and then seemed to gain the courage to ask._

_"Would she have gone with my dad?" Harry asked so quietly Severus almost didn't hear him from the other side of the kitchen table._

_Using his Occlumency not to let his anger resurface, he could see the pain in Harry's eyes. They discussed Lily often, but Severus had nothing good to say about James and therefore strategically never mentioned the man. Of course Harry would pick up on how uncomfortable it makes him and avoid the topic. It wasn't fair to his son to never be able to talk about his parents for fear of hurting Severus and the professor hated putting Harry in the middle like that._

_"If it were in our seventh year, she absolutely would have," the professor said confidently. "At that point, they had been dating exclusively. I imagine James was a decent dancer as well._ _For all you know, you could have a hidden talent within you."_

_"I doubt that!" Harry laughed before getting serious again, "And what about before seventh year?"_

_"Lily would have probably gone alone and not thought twice about it." Severus replied. "Your mother was confident enough not to need someone with her to have a good time."_

_The Yule Ball was held on the last night before the start of the winter holiday allowing Severus and Harry to go home to Spinner's End the next day where they would be staying for Christmas. The professor had finally found the loophole he'd been searching for to get Harry out of the Triwizard Tournament and he was anxious to discuss it with Harry away from the stresses of classes and the Yule Ball. Theoretically, if Harry were to use Severus's surname, it should break the contract with the Goblet of Fire since Harry legally had a right to use it after the adoption. Of course, it was a big step to go from Harry James Potter to Harry James Potter-Snape and he was nervous about how the teenager would react to that news._ _Harry very well could decide that participating in the last two tasks was better than taking the Snape surname._

_Severus had gotten Harry a nice set of green dress robes for the occasion - to match his emerald green eyes - however Harry was getting ready up in Gryffindor tower with his friends, meaning he wouldn't get to see his son until they both arrived at the Yule Ball. He would also see for the first time, who Harry had decided to ask to the ball. After their awkward talk about dancing and dates Harry had conveniently left out the name of the girl he had asked, only telling Severus that he did in fact have a date... Or dance partner according to Minerva._

_As a chaperone, the professor was required to stay for the entirety of the ball, starting from dinner until the last student was kicked out. Severus dressed in a nice set of black dress robes he had in the back of his wardrobe, but hardly ever wore, then made his way up to the extravagantly decorated Great Hall. Keeping a keen eye to stay away from Igor Karkaroff - refusing to let that man's insistent worrying about the Dark Lord's return sour his night - he chose a seat that would keep him far from view._

_Overall, the evening went well and everyone - both students and staff - seemed to have a good time. Severus thanked Merlin that he managed to get out of dancing every time he was asked, which was about four times before he stopped counting. No matter how hard he tried to maintain his acerbic exterior, after he adopted Harry - for reasons Severus had not yet identified - the staff thought he had softened. The best part of the night was getting to see Harry having a good time. He'd never tell a soul this, however he felt himself fill with pride as Harry started the dance with the Ravenclaw seeker Cho Chang. For as nervous as Harry was leading up to the ball, he looked confident in himself throughout the night._

_As the last handful of students were exiting the Great Hall right before midnight - hopefully already packed and ready to leave in the morning for the Hogwarts Express - Severus was surprised by Harry coming up to his side. He was still in his dress robes even though the Gryffindor had presumably gone back to the tower thirty minutes ago causing the professor to question where exactly his son had been._

_"Did you have a good time?" Severus asked, picking off some random lint from the young wizard's shoulder._

_"Yeah, I did," Harry said smiling. "How about you? Was it as awful as you expected?"_

_"I survived," he replied with a smirk. "Miss. Chang seemed to enjoy your company."_

_Harry's face immediately turned bright red, "Don't be weird about it, alright? We had a good time."_

_Severus gave a hard sigh at Harry's embarrassment, "Will you be taking the train tomorrow?"_

_The Gryffindor nodded, "Is that still alright?"_

_"Of course, I'll be there to pick you up at King's Cross," he placed his arm around Harry's shoulders leading him towards the staircase that would take him up to the tower. It was something so small, but he knew how much Harry liked the idea of someone being there to pick him up from the train station even when they could floo to Spinner's End faster. "Go get some rest, I have a feeling everyone will be exhausted tomorrow."_

_"Thank you Severus," Harry gave the professor a small hug, "see you in the morning!"_

_Severus watched his teenage son run off up the stairs before he turned back to his quarters in the dungeons relishing in how normal their life had become._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Interrogation
> 
> Next update should be on Monday.
> 
> A couple of clarifications I stumbled across when writing this chapter:
> 
> First - I realized that I previously posted that Harry and Snape went home for Christmas during the name-change AU memory that would not have happened if the Yule Ball was on Christmas as it was in the GoF. So to correct that discrepancy, I moved it to the night before the end of term as stated in this memory.
> 
> Second - The word Horcrux refers to the container - which is Harry - for a piece of a soul (in Harry's case Voldemort). As much as I want to keep my writing simple and continue to refer to it as the Horcrux within Harry, going forward I'm going to try to differentiate these two words because those definitions will be significant in upcoming chapters. If anyone has a recommendation for a term to use besides "soul fragment", I'm opening to suggestions because it's tiring to keep writing it out like that.


	39. The Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks goes out to my sister for all the help on chapter 43 (the chapter I had to finish in order to post this one), which was my first real writer's block in this story. Seriously, this chapter would have never gotten out on time without all of her help!
> 
> And a big Thank You to everyone who has reviewed! I'm sorry for the double cliffhanger, but hopefully it was worth it.

~~~~SS~~~~

"Put me down Lupin!" Severus bellowed angrily the moment both men stepped out from the floo. The former spy thought Lupin was overreacting to begin with and the last thing he wanted was to cause Harry any more reason to panic, "I can walk perfectly fine."

"What happened?" The young Gryffindor asked expectantly, making a move as if to get up from the sofa, but then changed his mind and leaned back against it. Obviously, he was still feeling ill and Severus was pleased to finally see at least some sense of self-preservation in the teen. Perhaps he was actually getting through to Harry about taking care of his own needs occasionally.

"We were ambushed," the werewolf answered helping Severus sit down in the armchair. "Right at the end too..."

The former spy stopped listening to the conversation around him the moment he set his eyes on the healer tied up, unconscious on the floor. His mind immediately started contemplating what could have happened tonight for Alton to have ended up in that position. With both Draco and Harry here, it was impossible to determine who cast the spells on the healer, and even with Draco's alliance solidified he didn't want to give away the fact that Harry's magic was not in fact depleting. His final - and most important - observation before asking the burning question, was that it appeared as if both Harry and Draco were safe and mostly unharmed.

"What the hell happened here?" Severus quickly interrupted drawing both boys and Lupin's attention to the man tied up in the room.

Harry's brows lowered, "Malfoy was-"

"I was saying his sorry life," Draco called out without the malice Severus would have expected given the situation he had returned to. If Draco took down Alton, it would almost be worth asking to see the memory just find out how Harry had reacted. He could guess it had not gone well.

"He didn't try a single thing to threaten my life!" Harry spat back appearing exceedingly pale. Surveying around the room, Severus noticed another thing missing.

"Where are Mr. Weasley and Miss. Granger? They were supposed to stay here with you," The defense professor asked Harry, holding back a grimace. He hates to admit to himself that he desperately needed to see Madam Pomfrey this time around.

"I didn't need them here," Harry replied defiantly before changing his tone to one of confusion. "Or I didn't _think_ I did because I _thought_ you sent Healer Smithe. Apparently I was wrong?"

"Yes, you were wrong. I sent Ron and Hermione down here," Severus replied with a groan. He stood back up and struggled to remove his outer robe, a feat made more difficult by also trying not to move his left arm. Even through his black clothing, it was obvious his side was bleeding and he needed to see how bad the cut was.

"I told you to be careful," Harry spoke up and his face flushed giving away his impromptu concern. Lupin appeared confused and it was hard to remember that with Harry isolated away, that statement would be particularly odd to the outsider.

"Oh don't worry Harry," Lupin said, "Severus held his own out there. You should have seen the Death Eaters he managed to take down."

"It was far too easy," the former spy said, distracted by summoning his own personal supply of Essence of Dittany to start healing his wounds.

Unfortunately, his left arm and side had been hit by a well aimed _Sectumsempra_ via Bellatrix - giving him yet another reason to want to rid the world of her presence - so he first started the counter curse incantation. Given the depth of the wounds, he wouldn't be surprised if he needed further healing even after applying the Essence of Dittany afterwards, and even then, he may still have issues using his arm come Monday morning.

"I always took you as a more modest man than that Severus," Lupin chuckled. He watched the professor healing his wounds, but knew better than to even try to help the stubborn professor.

"Not that Lupin," Severus yelled, "the mission! Wouldn't you agree that it was a little too easy to enter the manor tonight?"

The former Death Eater was genuinely surprised when Lupin actually took a moment to consider the suggestion. He would have half expected the other man to wave off his observation as paranoid.

"Yes, I do," he eventually said thoughtfully, "However, leaving the manor proved to be much more complicated than expected. Isn't that how these things usually go?"

"Did you get them?" Draco suddenly asked impatiently. He was on edge, likely knowing if the mission went south, he would likely be blamed for bad intelligence.

"We did," Severus replied with another moan. The large cut from his left shoulder down to his elbow had been deep and in addition to the dozens of cuts scattered across his face, Severus had several burns, particularly on the left side. He had managed to heal his side and arm at least enough to be able to floo without incurring more damage, yet it still would need further care once they arrived at Headquarters where Poppy was waiting on the injured. "They're at the safe house as we speak with Albus."

Relief crossed the blonde Slytherin's face and he then asked, "So why are you here instead of Headquarters? Weren't you supposed to go straight there?"

"Unfortunately we had company when we apparated," Lupin explained checking himself for injuries, "so we went to different location hoping they wouldn't be able to follow, sent word to Dumbledore, and then as an extra precaution floo'ed here to wait for the hunt to end."

"So then what happened? Obviously something went wrong" Harry asked, turning between the other men in the room. "And why does Malfoy know what's going on?"

"We needed his assistance on something for the Order," Severus explained honestly. He could tell Harry was about to argue until the floo turned bright green and Albus walked out with a purpose - not even pausing as his eyes wandered over to Alton still knocked out on the floor - followed immediately by Molly. The red-headed witch was frantically searching the room until she spotted Harry and walked over to him to give him a hug.

"Are you ready Severus?" The headmaster asked, approaching his professor. "Poppy is ready for you at Headquarters. It looks as if we should take the opportunity to escort Healer Smithe alongside us. What a convenient coincidence."

"You can't go anywhere," Harry said standing. He was holding onto the edge of the sofa to help stay steady on his feet. "You're obviously hurt!"

"Madam Pomfrey is already at Headquarters," Molly repeated patting Harry's arm nervously. Severus silently questioned who else showed up injured or if there were any fatalities, but he dared not ask in the current company. "She'll be sure to heal him straight away."

"Draco, are you injured?" Severus asked grimacing as he stood to take his leave.

"Nothing much sir," the blonde replied.

"Stay here and we will discuss what happened tonight once I return," he then did his best to kneel in front of Harry, however his body was in too much pain to bend. "I would say you don't need to wait up, except I know how your mind works by now and you will anyways. So instead, should you be up when I return, we'll discuss an abridged version of tonight's events. I promise you this was not how I saw the events of tonight going and that you are completely safe; as am I."

Harry audibly gulped at the last sentence, giving away how nervous he was about it all. There was zero chance of the Gryffindor sleeping before Severus's return, meaning the professor had another long night ahead of him.

* * *

Using the floo to get to headquarters agitated Severus's partially healed injuries. Therefore, walking - or more accurately limping - into the dining room of Grimmauld Place was excruciating. The room around him couldn't be further from the dining room it originally was, and instead appeared more like the combination of a command center and a first aid tent in the middle of a battle. Moody was debriefing Kingsley at one end of the table, proof that his injuries had already been healed by the lack of cuts and burns across his face as Severus had last seen him. The two men made eye contact and the former Auror gave a small nod of appreciation to the defense professor. Severus had no idea if Kingsley and his team had endured the same level of confrontation as the team at Malfoy Manor had at the end, yet based on the condition of the witches and wizards around the room, whatever they experienced was not easy.

Albus guided a levitating Alton Smithe through the dining room and into the drawing room where he proceeded to tie the still-bound healer upright in a chair.

"Veritaserum?" Severus asked his mentor, taking a seat in a plush armchair, cradling his left arm.

He wanted to get this over with and head back to Harry and the truth serum was the most effective way. It wasn't that he thought Molly was unable to handle whatever may come up with Harry tonight, it was simply that he was tired and he wanted - more than anything - to explain himself to the teen about what had happened. The Gryffindor had to be confused as to why his healer had been bound and dragged unconsciously off to the Order's headquarters, as well as why Severus had gone into battle at Malfoy Manor in the first place. He hated both the situation and himself for putting Harry through the anxiety he had to be feeling over all of this.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Albus explained. The look in his eyes told Severus that the headmaster wanted him to use Legilimency. It would be a more accurate way to extract the necessary information from the man. "What is necessary, is that you're seen by Poppy prior to our interrogation."

With her normal impeccable timing, the medi-witch entered the drawing room in a huff.

"Of all the impulsive things you could have done," she lectured towards the headmaster while tending to Severus's wounds, "sending two groups in completely unprepared and under supported; it was practically a suicide mission."

"Were there any losses?" The former spy asked hesitantly.

"Not from our side my boy," Albus quickly said causing Severus to narrow his eyes in response. How many Death Eaters had they been able to take down between the two battles? Unfortunately, no matter the number it obviously wasn't anyone high up in the ranks, as Severus had seen most of them accounted for before he'd left the Manor.

It took roughly twenty minutes for the medi-witch to heal his wounds as much as they could with magic and potions. The burns on his face and along his left side were easily handled with burn salve and she'd managed to finish the healing to his side that he had started in his quarters. As he'd expected, the cuts on his arm and side required extensive healing to the muscle and nerves underneath and he was required to use a sling for extra support. No matter how insistent he was that he was fine and did not require the damn sling, when Poppy threatened to keep him overnight at the hospital wing he conceded under the conditions that he would rest his arm for at least the next two days.

Making eye contact with Albus, he nodded his head to the unasked question. It was time to wake up Alton and find out exactly what had been going on with the healer. The two wizards pulled their wands and pointed them directly at Alton Smithe.

" _Rennervate_ " Albus said; neither wizard made a move as the healer stirred in front of them. His hands and legs were still bound - in addition to being bound to the chair - and naturally the man struggled against the restraints until he saw both wizards standing with their wands brandished at his chest.

"Severus?" The healer asked highly confused, "What's going on? Where am I?"

"You get one chance to cooperate with me Alton or your wife and daughter will be sent back to the Dark Lord and I will not stop him from doing whatever he wants with them," the former Death Eater threatened darkly. He was bluffing about Sarah and Mary, of course, nonetheless he needed to create an emotional response so he could quickly and most effectively use Legilimency.

As anticipated, Alton's kind brown eyes went wide and having zero training in how to handle a wizarding interrogation, he immediately stared directly into Severus's dark black eyes. The professor was focused - not even hearing the healer ask if his family was finally safe - and the moment they made eye contact, his wand was pointed at Alton's head and he said " _Legilimens._ "

Severus was thrust into his friend's mind and immediately saw flashes of Sarah and Mary throughout the years, being as they were clearly fresh on Alton's mind. Having no Occlumency training, it was not at all difficult to pass by those innocent thoughts and followed the thread to find the ones he was searching for. It was still highly chaotic and the scenes quickly flashed across his own mind-

_"Why are you treating Harry Potter?" The dark voice of Voldemort could be heard ringing through his ears._

The former spy clung to that memory before it could escape and he entered it.

_"It's confidential... between a patient and his doctor," Alton bravely replied. Dolohov and Macnair were holding onto each of Alton's arms tightly as he stood before the Dark Lord in what Severus recognized as their old headquarters; meaning this incident occurred before the Privet Drive attack and when his own cover was blown._

_"It is my understanding that you have a wife and daughter, correct? A... Muggle wife?" The Dark Lord asked with a sadistic laugh before he clearly performed Legilimency onto Severus's friend. The professor watched as his friend writhed in pain on the floor from the abrasive technique of the Dark Lord; something he'd had the unfortunate opportunity to experience himself. Alton was sweating, likely from the forced Legilimency, and the professor felt a wave of guilt for doing the same thing to the man at this very moment,_

_"It's called Leukemia," Alton said with a tremble in his voice. He was now bowed down - forcibly, Severus noted - before the Dark Lord with the two Death Eaters still by his side. "it's a muggle disease not commonly found in strong wizards."_

_"Harry Potter is not a strong wizard!" Voldemort yelled in disgust._

_"Either way," Alton begged, "that's what he has. Can I go now?"_

_The two Death Eaters and the Dark Lord all gave another evil laugh._

_"We've only just begun. I expect a full report on the boy whenever my loyal followers call upon you."_

_Severus could feel the fear spreading through Alton's mind and body as the picture around him went black and the healer's screams could be heard echoing in all directions around him._

_It was still pitch black when Alton's screams ceased and were replaced by talk of potions and muggle chemotherapy treatment options; and how Harry chose the latter. As expected, the healer provided the intimate details of what Harry's treatment entailed, as well as his schedule; specifically when the Gryffindor was at his lowest point. Severus used his own Occlumency shields to control the anger and disappointment in his friend._

_**"You should have come to me, I could have helped you!"** _ _Severus said to Alton within his mind._

_The overhead voices stopped suddenly and the professor found himself once again in front of Voldemort. This time he was at Malfoy Manor with Bellatrix standing behind the man._

_"Why do my potions appear to be failing me?" The dark wizard asked. This time only one unidentifiable Death Eater accompanied Alton in addition to Bellatrix's presence._

_"I can't possibly know that," the healer pleaded. "I don't specialize in magical ailments or healing potions. You have to believe me!"_

_"I don't have to do anything in regards to you," the Dark Lord spat back. "_ ** _Cruico_** _!_ "

_Severus turned away when his friend fell to the floor writhing in pain. He knew how his friend was feeling having also been subjected to that curse many times before. The only solace Severus felt was that Alton had every chance to seek help from the Order and yet he chose to continue to betray them. They could have prevented this, they would have helped him._

_Once the curse was lifted, the Dark Lord said, "You will find me an answer or Sarah and little Mary will pay the price for your incompetence._

_"Bellatrix, shall you show our guest a sample of what should happen if Grayback were to get a hold of his Mary? I feel like the werewolf would be much appreciative of that treat; children are his specialty."_

There was more sardonic laughter as the black overcame the memories and they shifted again.

_Sarah and Mary Smithe were being firmly held on either side of the Dark Lord. Severus hadn't seen either of them in a couple of years, however he would recognize them anywhere. Sarah was being held by a masked Death Eater, while Grayback had his filthy hands on Mary. It was quite obvious that both of them had been crying based on their red swollen eyes._

_"Severus seems to find it significant that Harry's cancer lives within his blood," Alton explained almost too quickly._

_"Elaborate," the Dark Lord pointed his wand towards Mary._

_"I don't know why," Alton begged, "he urgently asked me yesterday to explain about how the cancer lives and grows within Harry's blood, but I swear he told me nothing about it's significance!"_

_The healer wouldn't notice the recognition in the Dark Lord's face as he came to the same realization that Severus had while having the almost identical conversation with Alton. It was fitting that even though the evil wizard could have used almost any witch or wizard's blood for his resurrection, he chose the one wizard who held a dormant disease hopefully capable of finally killing the bastard. Perhaps the prophecy would be right after all..._

After seeing enough to know that Alton hadn't been voluntarily working for the Dark Lord, Severus pulled out of his mind. The whole experience had been similar to the Occlumency training he'd done with Harry in this reality; it was forceful, it was hard, and it was cruel. The thought of doing that to the boy he thought of as his son was sickening.

Albus's bright blue eyes were the first thing he saw coming back into the drawing room at Grimmauld Place. Alton was slumped forward - still bound firmly to the chair - panting and sweating.

"What the hell was that for?!" Alton yelled.

"I think you know Alton," the former spy said slowly. He straddled a wooden chair directly in front of his friend's face. "We've discovered your _other job_. Just how much information have you been providing to the Dark Lord?"

The healer bit at his lower lip, "They had my family! You don't understand what a man would do for his family!"

Raising a single eyebrow at that statement Severus lowered his head. Not that he would say so, but he couldn't really blame the man. If he'd been in that position, with Lily and Harry being held captive, he would have done whatever he could to protect them, yet for him that would have meant going to Albus for help. "I didn't ask for your excuses, I asked what information you have provided. How long have you been working for them?"

"I'm not _working_ for them," the bound man called, "I was forced to give that information! Until Sarah and Mary were taken I tried my hardest to withhold everything I could."

Albus took a step forward, "They are safe Alton. Earlier tonight we sent a team into Lord Voldemort's headquarters and retrieved them both. We have them protected and will keep them safe for as long as you can help us. He cannot hurt you or them anymore."

Alton's eyes gave way to the confliction within his mind, which then gave way to relief; ironically it was the same relief Severus had felt when he saw Harry was still safe back home. The big question was, would he choose to trust them in the end?

"They first grabbed me after one of those early visits to Harry's home for chemotherapy. At first, I had no idea what was going on and what they were talking about," the healer quietly said. "I was intentionally trying to be as vague as possible, until he did whatever it was you just did to me and saw our conversation about his diagnosis. At that point, it didn't really matter because he already knew of the Leukemia.

"I explained how Harry's being treated for it and I think _he_ can tell Harry has had a difficult time with the side effects. I was called in after one particularly bad set and it appeared as if he were feeling like Harry. He was using an awful lot of different potions."

It was an interesting theory, except that Alton hadn't studied mind magic in the wizarding world to know if something like that were possible through the connection Harry and the Dark Lord share. The professor wasn't even sure any references to this type of connection existed.

"Are they really safe?" Alton asked looking feverishly between the two other men, "He'll kill me once he knows they're gone! I just need to know that they are safe."

Severus sighed, "Trust me, he already knows they're gone. Provided you've been truthful with us, one of our members - Nymphadora Tonks - will be taking you to them. You will all be staying in hiding for the foreseeable future."

"What about Harry?" The healer hung his head in shame, "He still has a long way to go and I want to finish this out with him."

"That will not be necessary," Albus interjected, "you will oversee his progress from the safe house we'll provide for you, however you will need to pass off the hands-on work to another colleague. Or perhaps it is something Madam Pomfrey can do?"

Alton shook his head almost violently, "No. She won't be able to get the muggle medications from the pharmacy. My consultant - Meghan Swanson - is mostly up to speed on Harry's condition and progress. I'll give you her information and I don't foresee any issues with her taking over. As a muggle though, she'll need transport into the castle to either deliver his medication for Poppy to administer or to administer it herself. The rest of this round's meds are already with Poppy and she can handle it."

There was already one muggle in the castle, expanding the wards would not be difficult, except it didn't change the fact that Severus would need to do some serious vetting of this new physician and he was not comfortable with Harry under a muggle's care. The Gryffindor's case was already abnormal for the wizarding world, a muggle wouldn't come close to understanding. Ultimately, that was where keeping Alton appraised on Harry's progress would be helpful.

"We will make the appropriate arrangements for Harry's treatment days," Albus said with a nod. "If there's nothing else, let's get you back to your family."

"Wait," Alton yelled out to stop the headmaster from grabbing him, "I am so sorry Severus. Please believe me, I tried every way I could think of to protect Harry."

"You should have come to me Alton!" He growled at the man in front of him, "I could have helped you _before_ your family got involved. Don't you see that?"

"I did what I thought I had to do," the healer replied. "You wouldn't understand."

The professor bit his tongue to hold back the acerbic remark he wanted to make and a pained expression crossed his face.

"What were you doing there tonight?" Severus asked instead, still so furious he wanted to hit the man he had called his friend.

"I stopped by the hospital wing after my shift to ask Poppy how he did today... and when she said it was rough, I offered to get a higher dose of Morphine for him," the healer pleaded. "So I went back to hospital to put the order through and then floo'ed straight to your quarters to give it to him. It was nothing more Severus, I promise you."

For all the former spy knew, it could be a lie and in his current pessimistic mindset, he more than likely thought that was the case. He didn't know what to believe any longer.

Severus held a hand up when Albus reached for the second time to take the healer away because he needed to check one more thing. Leaning over towards the healer, he drew his wand and nonverbally cast to cut the left sleeve of his shirt. Using the tip of his wand, he opened the slit while holding his breath anticipating the sight of the same ugly black mark that Severus had concealed on his own arm. Alton's forearm was completely clean. Giving a slight nod, he cut the ropes from the chair and Albus took the man from the room to see his family - exactly what Severus wanted to do at that same moment.

~~~~HP~~~~

There was no way he was going to sleep until Snape came home; that much was obvious. Molly was instructed to stay with him until the professor returned and Malfoy was told to stay presumably so they could go over the events of the night.

Malfoy had filled him in on what had happened at Privet Drive. Apparently he had been correct and his vision was a plan for what Voldemort was going to be doing that very night. The Auror's had likely been called out early on because Malfoy said that they were waiting once the Death Eaters arrived. Harry shivered thinking about Malfoy having to do what he'd seen in his vision - collecting all the residents from their beds and killing them before setting all the houses on fire. Sometime since the Slytherin's arrival over the summer, Harry had begun to see him as a peer; just a boy caught in an impossible situation. That became more obvious tonight when the blonde sat in the armchair with a far away expression to his face; like he wasn't all there with them.

Then there was Healer Smithe who had apparently been working for Voldemort. That was a hard truth to swallow. This was a man Harry had liked and trusted... Trusted his life with. What if all those reports were wrong and his Leukemia was actually getting worse instead of better? Voldemort would love it if Harry would just die one night without any necessary involvement from his side. Of course, the megalomaniac was just as likely to die if there was a small chance he had the Leukemia as well.

"Harry dear," Molly said, reaching over and squeezing his forearm, "why don't you go and get some rest? Severus may be a while still."

_Mrs. Weasley would know what happened!_

"M'ok Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied solemnly, "do you know what happened tonight? Where Severus went?"

"It's not my place to say dear," she said, kindly handing Harry a cup of tea hoping it would help settle his nerves and his cramping stomach.

"Then who's place is it?!" Harry called out not meaning to be rude; he simply wanted answers. "McGonagall's because she's my guardian?!"

"Professor McGonagall's your guardian?" Malfoy asked, a little more interested than Harry expected him to be.

"Apparently I needed someone after my aunt and uncle were murdered," Harry said aggressively then bent over and held his head feeling more than just a little shameful.

"Of course," the Slytherin said, "it's just we all thought it was Professor Snape. You are living with him and he doesn't let anyone say a single thing about you."

Harry's face immediately flushed with embarrassment because deep down he wished that too. He wanted to belong here, this was his home, and it would make more sense for Snape to become his guardian.

"Want to play some chess?" Harry asked the other teen. "If nothing else, it will help pass the time. I'm pants at it though."

Malfoy gave a small, uncharacteristic chuckle and summoned Snape's chess board. As always, Harry chose white and the two former rivals started playing.

"No one really tells you anything about what's going on?"

Harry paused at the blunt question. Lifting his now dull emerald eyes to meet Malfoy's grey ones he simply nodded his head.

"Picked up that much already huh? So much good being _The Chosen One_ does right?" Harry sarcastically replied. "No one ever tells me anything... Except Severus a couple of times. I don't know why he didn't say anything about my healer though."

"He probably didn't want to worry you," the blonde explained, making his well planned move, "I'm sure you know how much he tries to save everyone around him. Hell, the night I got sorted into Slytherin he brought me aside and told me if I ever wanted out of _that circle_ I could come to him. I thought he was crazy at the time.

"I was _originally_ trying to do just that this summer though, except I ended up in front of Professor Dumbledore instead. Apparently Severus had been with you all summer and was 'otherwise preoccupied' according to Dumbledore."

Harry thought back to right before Malfoy showed up. Ironically, it had been around the time of the Privet Drive attack. Yeah, they'd been more than a little preoccupied then between the attack, Harry's 22 hour chemo, and not to mention the whole different reality situation - which he couldn't tell Malfoy about.

"When did you decide?" Harry asked quietly, "to switch sides."

Snape had previously explained to the Gryffindor that asking that same question was an exceedingly personal question and if he wanted to ask it, he should be prepared to give something in return. Not only had that been before Malfoy knew all about his Leukemia and chemotherapy, but somehow telling Malfoy something as personal didn't seem like such a bad thing anymore.

"I mean it wasn't like there was a sudden epiphany or anything. The idea started shortly after my father was sent to Azkaban. The pieces started to fall into place and then I remembered Severus telling me he'd help me out - quite literally. I'm lucky he ended up being a spy or he could have sent me back as a traitor," Malfoy said, trying to make a joke of it. Harry could feel the uneasiness emanating from the blonde. "And I already told you why... my father happens to still be wasting away in Azkaban when I know good and well the Dark Lord could easily get him out. He's there as punishment; not for doing anything against the ministry, but against _him_. Is that the kind of person you'd want to follow? One that will turn their back on you in an instant?"

"Me?" Harry asked rhetorically, "of course not, but he murdered my parents. It's kind of hard to respect someone after they make you an orphan."

Malfoy gave a chuckle, "He might as well have killed mine too. They didn't know, but I could hear them fighting all the time about it growing up; about what we'd do if he came back. Mother wanted us to move as far away as possible, but my father refused...he would say the Dark Lord could find us anywhere and we were safer staying where our power could protect us. And that was it right... I used to idolize my father, I thought he had it all figured out - he had the wealth and respect anyone could want... except my mother didn't want any of that. I think in the end she just wanted me safe, but he wouldn't let her do what she thought was necessary."

That last sentence hit Harry so hard he almost physically recoiled. He was brought back to the memory he had whenever the dementors got near him - his dad telling his mum to take him and run, his mum refusing to step aside when Voldemort gave her a chance to save herself, and then her dying for him. That was exactly what his mum wanted too; it's what she died for, to protect him. He'd only met Narcissa once and all he knew about her was that she was somehow related to Sirius - maybe his cousin - but his first impression of her was that she was cold. How could he now compare that woman to his own mum? Perhaps Narcissa wasn't like that in the privacy of their own home? And what he'd seen was all an act?

_That would be a sad way to live._

The Gryffindor doubted that Malfoy would be talking as freely as he was if it weren't for what he'd just experienced at Privet Drive. He knew he should feel guilty, however he also knew how freeing it was to finally get these kinds of things off your chest, and maybe the other teen would feel that way too. Either that, or he'd hex Harry into next week the second he realized the things he had said.

"All of my life I wanted this mark... to be just like my father, but you know what it means? It's just a mark of his ownership over us and for the rest of my life I'll be judged for it. No one will care why I did... the Order knows why I'm doing it and they don't care one bit," the Slytherin paused with a disgusted look on his face, then asked, "Did you know they have to grovel to him?"

"Yeah," Harry responded unsure if the other boy was expecting an answer. Of course he knew, he'd seen Malfoy's dad do that very thing at the graveyard only two years ago, "I did know that actually."

The blonde continued, apparently oblivious to Harry's answer, his mind far away from the chess game they were supposed to be playing, "He makes his followers kneel down and kiss his robes; like common servants. There's no power or honor from joining him...You get to live; that's what he gives you in return for your service... And if you change your mind? You're dead. Honestly, Severus's days are numbered unless the bastard can get killed off quickly. He won't let Severus go after his betrayal, he'll hunt him down until the very end."

Harry's breath hitched. It was both terrifying and calming to know that he and Snape shared that in common; they both were on the Dark Lord's top list to kill instantly. Suddenly, Harry was ready to fight; he wanted to end this so he and Snape could go on with their life.

"I guess I'll just have to get to him first," The Gryffindor confidently responded.

"And you think it's just going to be that easy?"

"No, but I've held my own against him plenty of other times," Harry wasn't sure why he was saying this because in reality he had no idea how he could actually defeat a wizard like Voldemort - and that was before he had to worry about losing his magic.

"You better," Malfoy had come out of whatever trance he'd been caught in and was back to his more arrogant self, "I had to make a decision and I chose you, or rather I chose Dumbledore... who chose you."

"No one _chose_ me," Harry said offended, but too tired to actually be upset over it.

"Who's called The Chosen One?" The Slytherin replied with a smirk on his face and he immediately added, "Hey, you called yourself it first. I know you hate that name."

A companionable silence fell between the two teenagers as they continued on with their chess game. Harry wasn't sure what to do with the information he'd just learned from Malfoy. It wasn't so much in what the other boy said, it was more what he didn't say.

"Did you kill anyone tonight?" Harry knew he shouldn't have asked the moment the question left his lips and the scowl from Malfoy confirmed it.

There was another long pause and then the Slytherin averted his eyes and answered, "I don't know."

Now it was Harry's turn to feel like a total arsehole. Why would he ask something like that? He would be pissed if Malfoy had asked him that question after a night like this one!

"I'll probably get to go back to classes on the 28th," Harry said randomly, trying to change the awkward subject he'd brought on himself, "I don't know if you'll be off the hook for tutoring after then."

"Eh, the tutoring doesn't bother me," Malfoy responded. "What are you going to do in class if you can't use magic?"

It was a question that dampened all his excitement about going back to classes. He had no idea what he would do during practical lessons or how he could possibly be graded without any practical exams.

"I don't exactly know yet," he started and just as his anxiety was on the rise, the floo roared and Snape walked out alone.

Overall he appeared in better health, except for his left arm being held in a sling. The Gryffindor knew magic could only heal so far and sometimes the body needed it's own time to finish the healing process. Snape's obsidian eyes met Harry's emerald ones and relief filled both sets that the other was alright.

"Thank you Molly," the professor said, approaching the group. "I appreciate the help."

"Anytime Severus," she smiled at them, "is there anything else you need?"

"No, however I believe Albus wanted to see you before you go home."

"Of course. I'll try to come by and see you tomorrow Harry," she gave him a small, yet solid hug before exiting through the floo.

Snape sat down in his customary armchair and Harry was able to fully focus on his mentor. He looked both exhausted and defeated; the man who was the most put together man Harry had ever known and he was completely unravelling.

"Are you alright sir?" Harry asked quietly, taking a peek over to Malfoy who appeared just as concerned over their professor.

"No Harry I'm not," Snape admitted. "I apologize for causing you to worry tonight and for not giving more information before I left earlier this evening."

"S'ok," the Gryffindor mumbled.

"Let us go to your room and we'll discuss what happened," the professor explained. "Draco, please stay here and I'll be back to debrief you about Privet Drive."

Harry gave another kind stare at Malfoy before getting up and carefully walking to his bedroom. His morphine was almost done and with Madam Pomfrey helping out at headquarters, he wasn't sure if anyone would be by to replace it. When he reached his bedroom and was settled onto the bed, Snape came in, slowly closing the door behind him. Harry was surprised when the professor sat down on the end of his bed instead of the chair at his desk as he usually did.

"What happened tonight?" The young wizard nervously asked. His heart rate had instantly increased and he was sure bile was trying to creep up the back of his throat.

"It was several things that happened all at once actually," Snape said, pinching his nose. "Your vision ended up being a plan of action for tonight and before you get yourself worked up, the Order and Aurors were able to prevent any fatalities. There were several homes damaged and many muggles that needed their memories modified, however no major injuries or fatalities on our end."

Harry nodded his understanding. This solidified his need to finish his Occlumency training. He could admit that while it ended up helping them this time, there was no way he could mentally make it through another vision like this one. This time he needed to let the adults handle it; an observation he was proud of himself for.

Snape gave Harry a long stare as if judging how much information the Gryffindor could handle at once. He must have passed whatever test because the professor continued, "We also discovered while you were sick with the pneumonia, that Alton had been compromised by the Dark Lord."

There it was; now he could no longer try to deny what had been staring directly at him.

"How? What was he doing? Why didn't you tell me before now?" Harry's brain was running through a million scenarios all at once and none of them ended well. "Has he done any damage?"

Snape lifted his hand to stop Harry's rapid questions, "We were able to ascertain that unfortunately it started early on in your treatments, while we were back at Privet Drive. It appears that he was primarily providing information to the Dark Lord about your illness, not actively trying to harm you, however we don't know every conversation that was had between them. Most importantly there is zero evidence of any damage done to you or your progress.

"And I am very sorry for not telling you this sooner. Alton was ultimately the best option for your treatment and I didn't want to burden you with something else to worry about. We've made sure you were safe by not leaving Alton alone with you, however not telling you previously left you vulnerable tonight."

"Why?" Harry asked as the feeling of the betrayal filled him up inside. He was shaking from a combination of anger and fear; would he be able to trust someone with his care so blindly again? "Why would he do it?"

There was a pregnant pause between the two of them, "I don't think you knew this, but Alton has a wife and a daughter..."

He trailed off when he saw the pleading expression on Harry's face after realization hit the young wizard - pleading for him to be wrong, pleading for all of this to stop, pleading for the two innocent people to be safe.

"They are safe now Harry," Snape continued placing his right hand on Harry's covered leg, "the other part of tonight was a rescue mission to get them back.

"It wasn't supposed to be tonight, until most of the Death Eaters left their headquarters and the opportunity was too open not to take. We got in fine and everything was going smoothly until we were ambushed when we tried to exit. Some believe the shortened raid at Privet Drive - due to the Aurors - caused the Dark Lord and Death Eaters to return prematurely."

Harry furrowed his brows and cleared his throat, "But you don't believe that do you?"

"No," the professor said honestly, "The more I have had time to think about it, the more I believe the manor was cleared intentionally to draw us in."

"Which means they expected you to rescue Healer Smithe's family," Harry thought out loud, then continuing on that train of thought added, "and that means we should still be wary of him?"

Snape nodded his agreement.

"So what do we do now about my treatments?" He didn't want the cancer to come back no matter how awful the day had been on his body.

"A colleague Alton has been working with will be coming in to take his place," Snape explained, "He will still be involved as a sort of 'magical consultant' however this muggle physician will technically be the lead. Poppy has everything you need for tomorrow, Monday, and Tuesday's chemotherapy, so I'll make arrangements with the new doctor to be here next Friday."

Harry groaned. He hated to say it - even if it were only to himself - but he really didn't want a muggle physician. Until his magic was completely gone, he was still a wizard. Not to mention, how would they explain his pain from his magical core depletion?

Snape reached out and touched Harry's arm causing the young wizard to jump in surprise.

"I think I lost you for a moment," he said softly, or as softly as Snape could.

"Sorry sir. Just thinking about how different a muggle physician will be during all of this," Harry was twisting his hands together nervously.

"Get some sleep Harry," Snape said, lifting Harry's chin so they were facing each other, "We'll solve it one problem at a time. Remember you are not alone in all of this; I will handle the logistics and I will not let anything happen to you. I promise."

Harry believed him and felt himself start to calm down based on that statement alone. He had someone he could count on, someone in his corner, someone who would help him keep going when he felt like giving up himself; because honestly, if Voldemort could get to his last healer, what chance did this muggle physician have?

~~~~SS~~~~

Listening to Draco's recounting of the raid opened up wounds deep within the former spy that he had hoped to never experience again. The battle at Privet Drive was just as ferociously fought as the one at Malfoy Manor had been. As expected, Draco did not come out of it clean in either the physical or emotional sense. Severus tended to his surface wounds - a cut or burn here or there, nothing serious - but it would take more than a pain relieving potion, Dittany, and burn salve to begin to heal the fear that was deep within the blonde.

At first sight, Severus had assumed the teen had made his first kill, except he remembered Albus had told him there were no fatalities on their side; a fact he made sure to emphasize to the new Death Eater as he hadn't even known if he'd killed someone or not. No, the fear he saw in Draco was from the recognition of what he'd been asked to do and what he would inevitably be asked to do again; with the real possibility that the Order might not be there to interfere next time. Doing all he could to try and help Draco, he sent his Slytherin off back to the dormitories with a small dose of Dreamless Sleep and made a mental note for himself to keep an eye on him in the upcoming weeks.

Crossing the sitting room with a glass of firewhiskey to help calm his firing nerves, Albus's face appeared in his floo.

"Can I come through?" His mentor asked. The clock on the mantle showed one o'clock, meaning Severus was close to approaching twenty-four hours without sleep, after an absolutely draining day.

"Of course," he said, regretting his decision as tomorrow wouldn't likely be much easier than today.

Drinking back the remainder of his firewhiskey, he vanished the glass to the kitchen sink right as Albus was walking through. For once, the headmaster appeared just as exhausted as Severus felt; a feat that didn't happen often.

"What happened tonight Severus?" He asked, taking a seat across from his defense professor. "I've debriefed Kingsley and Alastor already, but would like your account my boy."

It was said in a manner that Severus would not refuse. His first and second priorities had been taken care of, and now we're off sleeping with hopes that tomorrow would bring some much needed relief for them both; in their own unique ways. This time was for himself.

"According to Alastor," the headmaster continued, "Remus would likely not have made it back if it weren't for you."

The former Death Eater scowled, "Moody needs to keep his mouth shut about things that don't pertain to him."

Albus's eyes twinkled furiously, "As the commander of the team, it was his position to know what had happened to everyone."

"It was nothing," Severus waved off the gratitude.

In reality, Severus had been terrified at that moment. They made it into the manor with very few obstacles, as expected, and was even able to navigate down to the cellars where Sarah and Mary were being held. He pushed the images of the filthy cell where the two hostages were coward in the corner out of his mind before they managed to take over.

As first in charge, Moody took the lead in heading out of the cellars with Bill Weasley - carrying Mary - following second, Lupin assisting Sarah was next, and Severus was bringing up the rear. Their downfall that night had been in the assumption that their strongest wands would be needed in the cellars to take down the guards, and Severus should have spoken up when only two measly Death Eaters - neither of whom he knew - were down there protecting the only assets in the house at the time that needed protecting. It struck him as odd, yet he continued on anyways.

They first got a hint to something being off when Fred or George - it was impossible to tell them apart sitting in a classroom and even less so in battle - came crashing down the stairs towards them. Moody managed to catch the boy and then stormed out into the battle hoping to clear a path for them alongside Arthur, Minerva, Fred, George, Hestia, and Fleur.

Lupin would later tell him that Severus took down at least five Death Eaters that night, however he couldn't tell Albus where they had been. Acting purely on instinct, once they made it to the main level of the Manor - and he could see the severity of the situation with them being outnumbered at least four to one - he pushed Bill, Sarah, and Mary to floor and they crawled under the curses blasting around them. Bill and Severus both cast shielding charms around themselves, Sarah, and Mary to protect them during the treacherous path to their freedom outside and to the point where they could safely disapparate.

Once outside the manor, a feat that he hoped Mary would never remember, Bill disapparated them back to the pre-planned safe house leaving Severus behind. More than anything, the former spy wanted to go with them; to get back to Harry relatively uninjured. Unfortunately, or fortunately for the werewolf, he chose that same moment to turn around and caught sight of Lupin focused so intently on the duel he was in with Yaxley and Crabbe that he was oblivious to Bellatrix's wand pointed straight at his back. It was pure instinct to stand between them and try to block it, but unfortunately his shield charm was a second too late and the curse caused severe burns to the entire left side of his body. Then of course the blasted witch had to follow it up with the _Sectumsempra_ that also hit his left abdomen and arm before he was able to get them out of there.

"Where did you go first? Before coming back here?" Albus asked after taking in everything Severus had just gone through from the attack. "You were supposed to come back to Headquarters. I won't lie that when the others arrived without you and Remus, we all questioned if you'd make it back at all."

"Unfortunately, we thought Yaxley had come along for the ride," Severus explained pinching the bridge of his nose in exhaustion, "so we went just outside the Little Hadham safe house and walked the rest of the way. We must have lost him mid-apparation because he didn't appear when we landed, but we still felt it best to floo here first; he wouldn't gain anything from knowing I went back to Hogwarts."

Severus wanted to go to bed. There were very few times in his life, specifically his adult life, when he felt as if he couldn't function any longer. This was one of those few moments.

"Do you think it was coincidental?"

No further explanation was needed to know Albus thought the same thing about the attack as he did. There were too many subtle signs that pointed to it being a set-up.

"Hardly," the younger professor agreed.

"Do you suspect Alton knew he'd been discovered?" It was the most logical answer then any other way the Dark Lord could have found out that they'd react as they did to the manor emptying.

"I don't know," he said gravely and Severus hated not knowing what was going on. His life often depended on knowing the in's and out's of everything around him. It just went to show how distracted he'd been as of late with Harry. "It's possible, or the Dark Lord could have found something during Legilimency. Alton had zero mind defenses, making it impossible to hide a single thing from even the worst Legilimens, and the Dark Lord is one of the best."

"We must stay diligent my boy. I shall maintain a close watch over the family until I deem it safe - for us, more than the Smithe's - to allow them to return home," Albus explained standing to leave. The clock over the mantle read quarter past three in the morning. "Get some rest Severus, you deserve it."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next: The Old Snape
> 
> The next update will probably be Wednesday or Thursday.


	40. The Old Snape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I am so grateful to everyone who's followed Harry and Snape's journey with me! Thank you all again!
> 
> Disclaimer: There is a quote taken from the Goblet of Fire at the end.
> 
> Warning: Talk of suicide - it's not graphic and if you blink you might miss it, but I like to be proactive in the warnings just in case.

* * *

_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! This story is now over 250k words long and the last chapter received the 300th review! I am so grateful to everyone who's followed Harry and Snape's journey with me! Thank you all again!_

**Disclaimer: There is a quote taken from the Goblet of Fire at the end.**

**Warning: Talk of suicide - it's not graphic and if you blink you might miss it, but I like to be proactive in the warnings just in case.**

~~~~HP~~~~

The sun was shining through his enchanted window when Harry cracked open his eyes on Sunday morning. His head was pounding with a headache and though he was pretty sure it was due to all the thoughts running rampant in there, he knew he needed to get up and tell Snape. Pulling the bedcovers aside, he immediately noticed the IV in his port was missing, meaning Madam Pomfrey - since Healer Smithe would likely not be coming back again - had removed it sometime in the middle of the night. The port always had to be flushed with saline after each use and the young wizard hated that he had slept through something so personal.

Trying to walk carefully on his trembling legs, the Gryffindor remembered that he hadn't eaten much of anything yesterday, which could also explain why he was feeling so awful. He wouldn't be surprised if Madam Pomfrey started this morning's treatment with IV fluids even before the antiemetic and he was actually looking forward to it. Once he was ready for the day, a feat that included taking a quick shower and changing into a new pair of flannel pyjamas, he made his way into the sitting room where Madam Pomfrey was already there examining Snape. Harry paused before either adult could see him to take in the ironic scene.

Snape was sitting in his normal armchair with Madam Pomfrey tutting around in annoyance and huffing something Harry could not hear, while the professor simply gave a low growl for each response. She unbandaged his left arm and based on the professor's grimace, it was still extremely painful to him. Harry eventually decided there wasn't much else to gain from hiding out in the corridor, so he tentatively walked into the sitting room taking his own customary seat onto the sofa.

"Morning," he mumbled, meeting Snape's eyes before averting them to try and get a look at how bad the man's wound actually was.

"It will heal," Snape replied following Harry's gaze to his left arm. "Serves me right for teaching a spell like this one to the likes of Bellatrix LeStrange."

Harry's eyes widened when he recognized what the professor had said, "You actually trained the Death Eaters?"

"No, not exactly," the former Death Eater winced as the medi-witch rebandaged his arm, "this happened to be a spell of my own creation though that the Dark Lord wanted the others to know. It was made during a very dark period of my life."

"Yeah... obviously," the Gryffindor answered looking a little more pale than usual.

Again, he took a moment to recognize how lucky the Order was to have Snape on their side and not still working for the Death Eaters. Unfortunately, this brought a thought that pained him greatly - if his mother hadn't been targeted, Snape probably would not have switched sides and they would be fighting against the professor instead of with him. Who knew what could have happened then?

"Are you alright Harry?" Snape asked, bringing the young wizard back into the present.

"Yeah," he answered, rubbing the side of his head, then he brought his hand to massage the back of his neck, "I woke up with a bad headache."

Snape stood up, leaving Madam Pomfrey standing alone with the remnants of the sling she had been trying to set, and knelt in front of Harry to feel his forehead for a fever. Satisfied that Harry's headache was not due to an infection, he reached for the sling from the medi-witch.

"Poppy," he asked, kindly putting the sling back around his shoulder, "can you please run a diagnostic spell just to be sure?"

"Of course, Severus," she came over and cast her wand over the teen's head. Harry was too tired to even smile from the tickle this time.

"Nothing alarming; you definitely need food and fluids," Madam Pomfrey explained, "I think we'll start your medication after you've gotten a good chance to eat and I'll be starting an IV to hydrate you right away. No one says you need to do the four hours first thing in the morning."

Based on Madam Pomfrey's reaction, Harry got the impression that the matron disagreed with how Healer Smithe had run his chemotherapy schedule. Being that there were not really cancer treatments in the wizarding world, who was to say he _shouldn't_ do them as close to 24 hours apart as possible? All Harry did was show up when he was told to be there... or more accurately, the healer showed up when he was supposed to be here.

"Who's going to do my blood testing now?" Harry asked once he was connected to an IV of fluids. Almost instantly, it felt like every cell in his body was perking up from the hydration and he could feel his headache start to subside.

Madam Pomfrey paused and gave Snape a thoughtful look to which the professor nodded his head. If he'd been trying to be discreet about it, then Snape had no idea how much Harry had learned about the former spy's mannerisms.

"I'll be doing that from now on," she spoke up, "I will deliver it back to the hospital where your new physician will run the results. Starting with the next round, she'll then return with me to administer your treatments."

"So does this mean that I won't get my results as quickly as the magical way?"

Madam Pomfrey gave a chuckle, drawing a small level of concern from Harry, "For these blood count tests, they'll be run the muggle way. It's actually a relatively easy process and we won't lose much time. Your bone marrow biopsies will still be processed using magic, however you have a couple of weeks until you need to do another one."

Harry nodded in understanding. What the medi-witch just explained told him more than she had expected. Yes, he'd learned he would still get his results more or less as quickly as before, but what he _really_ learned was that Madam Pomfrey was well aware of the Healer Smithe situation. The Gryffindor wondered if he would get to see his former healer again and if so, what he would say to the man who was trying to save his life and simultaneously gave information about him to the dark wizard trying to kill him. It had to be extremely confusing for the healer and Harry felt himself feeling sorry for the predicament the man was placed in.

"I'm canceling your lessons for tomorrow and Tuesday," Snape said once they were both seated in the kitchen and Harry was eating his porridge with fruit for breakfast.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Harry sarcastically replied. "You know, I can probably still do my evening classes if chemo is done early enough."

Snape took a sip of his morning coffee and shook his head, "No you can't, because we'll be working on Occlumency at those times, assuming you're feeling up to it. I'd like to continue focusing on clearing your mind, using your forest, and then once you're beyond this difficult part of treatment, we can move onto the defensive strategies."

After everything yesterday, that actually sounded like a good use of time. Sure, he wanted to stay ahead in the theory of his classes, but he needed to keep Voldemort - and his own anxiety - out of his head to be able to focus in the first place.

"Sounds good, sir," the young wizard said, stirring his breakfast around with his spoon. "What's going to happen to Healer Smithe?"

"As I said last night, he'll still be overseeing your progress, just a little less actively and definitely more remotely," the professor explained urging the Gryffindor to continue eating.

Harry rubbed his forehead, "No... I mean, won't Vol- ... you-know-who know that he's been discovered? They'll search for him and kill him."

"Yes they will," Snape said frankly, "which is exactly why Professor Dumbledore is hiding Alton and his family at a safe house. They will not be able to locate the Smithe's nor will Alton be able to contact them."

Harry hadn't thought about the need to prevent his healer from making contact with the Death Eaters. Naturally, he had assumed that the man was being forced to spy on him when his family was taken, but the young wizard guessed they couldn't be too careful just in case he was working freely for them. This is why Snape was so good at what he did; he'd have to be in order to double cross a wizard like Voldemort for all that time.

"Madam Pomfrey will be back soon," Snape said continuing his work at the table in the genealogy book, "finish eating so you can keep your strength up today."

His bowl of porridge, the easiest food known to man, was almost mocking him. Trying not to think about how likely it was that this would come back up later, he managed to finish over half before Madam Pomfrey walked into the kitchen.

"Ready, Mr. Potter?" She asked much too cheerfully for his liking. "Your blood counts were good, so I'm ready when you are."

The Gryffindor groaned. Maybe he'd get lucky and sleep through most of the day.

* * *

Unfortunately, Harry was never lucky enough to actually sleep through the side effects of the chemotherapy. Today at least it was like his body, or maybe his magic, had simply given up fighting it and he at the very least wasn't having the extreme pain from yesterday; it was just the nausea because his body lost its familiarity with the medications.

"Do you want to try walking around?" Snape asked as Harry was fidgeting on the sofa waiting for the latest round to pass. He was almost done with the treatment and desperate for any kind of relief.

"Think it'll help?"

"Not really," the professor said, not at all attempting to sugar coat what he'd thought. Harry almost laughed at the bluntness of his answer. "If nothing else, it might help take your mind off of it, however if you're going to be sick anyway, it's certainly worth a try."

Harry hated that the man was right. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded and pushed himself up from the sofa. Immediately Snape was at his side taking a hold of Harry's left arm with his still usable right. Harry was sure if anyone were to walk in at that moment, the pair of them would either be a hysterical or extremely pathetic sight to see.

Walking definitely helped Harry momentarily ignore the feelings inside of his own body. He was so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, that he was able to mentally block out a lot of the other thoughts he had been unintentionally focusing on while laying on the sofa; like his aching body and his sour stomach.

Snape was talking to him to try to help distract the teen further, however the simple act of walking was enough to do the trick. After a slow lap around the sitting room, Harry was about to start another one when he fell to his knees and began vomiting onto the floor next to the sofa. It was so embarrassing, after everything that could possibly be in his stomach was now on the floor, he sat with his back against the sofa and his head resting on top of his propped up knees to hide his face.

"Is that blood?" He heard a high pitched voice ask. Lifting his head, his vision became completely filled with Madam Pomfrey's worried face. Except, she wasn't looking at him, instead she was looking towards where he had just vomited; half of which was full of large black speckles. To Harry it looked like large pieces of black ash swimming in the vomit, a thought that almost caused him to sick up again.

"Oh yeah," Harry groaned again, having forgotten in the activity from last night that he'd asked Healer Smithe about the black stuff.

"Oh yeah?" She echoed with her hands on her hips, "what exactly does that mean, Mr. Potter?"

"I noticed that yesterday and asked Healer Smithe about it," the Gryffindor explained. Snape reached down with his good arm to help Harry up off the cold stone floor. Sitting back onto the sofa, Harry continued, "He said it wasn't blood, but he'd need to examine it. That was obviously before... Y'know, everything that happened last night."

They seriously couldn't expect him to remember everything, could they? Yet neither adult appeared liked they were going to lecture him for not mentioning it earlier to them. In fact, Snape simply gave an inquisitive expression and conjured two large phials then proceeded to collect samples of the black vomit - placing a stasis spell on them immediately - before cleaning it off the floor with a wave of his wand.

"I'll examine this later and see what I can ascertain from it," the professor said, vanishing the phials, Harry assumed to his personal laboratory.

Madam Pomfrey was already removing his chemotherapy medication and ready to start the morphine when the professor sat down in the armchair.

"What do you think it is?" The young wizard asked.

"I can't possibly know that at this time, now can I?" Snape responded casually.

"No not really," Harry agreed, "but you can have some kind of educated guess."

"I prefer not to guess," Snape explained picking up the notebook Harry had not so accidentally looked at on Friday.

"You're all set, Mr. Potter. I'll be back in a couple of hours to check the morphine," the medi-witch called packing up her bag. She turned to Snape and said, "Let me know what you find about the black substance, I'll do some searching of my own."

Harry looked up at the morphine and seriously debated if the burning pain would be worth it for the exhaustion that follows and being able to get to sleep. He shivered remembering yesterday and decided that it absolutely was not worth it.

"Are you cold?" Snape asked. He went to place his notebook on the table, but Harry stopped him.

"No, just thinking," the Gryffindor replied nervously. Every time he saw Snape with the notebook he was overtaken with guilt.

_I shouldn't have looked at it._

As his stomach was starting to roil both from the chemotherapy and the guilt, a goblet of ginger ale came levitating over his head. Smiling, Harry reached up and grabbed the goblet. At some point the teen assumed he would never be able to eat or smell ginger again without immediately feeling nauseous, however right now it was exactly what his stomach needed to stop the cramping as well as to give his hands something to do.

"Thank you," Harry whispered after taking three short sips of the bubbly beverage.

"That was not me," the professor replied evenly, not at all taking his eyes off of the Gryffindor trying to judge Harry's reaction to the event.

Harry's head shot up so quickly he made himself dizzy. Did he just nonverbally and wandlessly summon that from the kitchen? Without even thinking of the incantation _accio_?

"I didn't..." The young wizard stopped and worried his lower lip, "Are you saying that I..."

"Yes Harry," Snape leaned over and started writing in the notebook, "that was your unintentional magic working."

"But how does it..." He couldn't even think straight right now. This was the first time he'd fully seen or recognized himself doing magic and he really had zero control over it. The panic flooded into him; he could hear the blood rushing through his ears in rhythm with the beat of his heart, "but Healer Smithe said that my magic was already erasing. And you..."

_Had Severus agreed with him?_

Yesterday had seemed so far away already and he couldn't be sure what Snape had said about it. After what seemed like fifteen minutes, but was probably closer to three, Snape closed the notebook and leaned over resting his right elbow on his knee trying to look as innocently as possible to the teen.

"We're not exactly sure what is going on yet, however it is my belief - and Minerva and Albus both agree - that your magic is not necessarily erasing as you may have been led to believe. Though at this point, we're unsure where it's coming from and how long it will last.

"As for what Alton said, I'm sure you can understand how... " The former spy paused, searching for the right word, "...Detrimental it would be should the Dark Lord find out about these surges of extremely powerful magic."

The Gryffindor's eyes widened again with that realization. It would be very bad. If Voldemort targeted him as a toddler when he didn't have a lick of magic, he'd do anything he could to kill Harry now... Even if this supposed magic is a fluke. It seemed as if he were destined to die any which way he looked at it.

"Why is it always me?" Harry complained. The injustice of the situation was burning within him and he needed to do something to let it escape. Doing the only thing he could think of, he stood up and started pacing, "Why am I always the exception to every fucking rule?!"

"I don't know Harry," Snape said, ignoring the use of the curse word. Snape stood up mirroring the young wizard and then held his shoulder to stop him from pacing. "As with everything else, we will figure this out. I am not a person who believes in coincidences and therefore it's more than likely all of these instances are related. We just haven't uncovered the whole picture as of yet."

It was too much; he was too exhausted to deal with this now, and quite possibly forever.

Finally Harry met Snape's obsidian eyes, the same eyes he now realized he had been focusing on as his source of strength, the same eyes that he could see the promise of tomorrow deep within. He nodded in several quick successions before replying, "Can I try to get some sleep sir? In my bedroom."

"Let me help you," the professor simply answered, wrapping his right arm around Harry's waist to help him to his bed safely.

The young wizard sat awake in his comfortable plush bed, wrapped in the plush green bedspread thinking through everything that had happened in his short sixteen year life. His parents were murdered, he was almost murdered, he was sent to live with his neglectful and abusive relatives - where they kept the biggest part of Harry a secret. And that was all before his Hogwarts years where he had the Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, going to find Sirius who he thought was trying to murder him... The Triwizard Tournament and Cedric's death... The Department of Mysteries and Sirius's death... He really didn't think he could take much more.

Just as he was about to complain - strictly to himself because he was too tired to actually do anything about it - that the sun setting through the enchanted window was too bright, the window was magically turned off.

 _Thank you magic_ , he thought sarcastically. In the pitch black darkness of his dungeon bedroom, it wasn't long before Harry's eyes started to get heavy, however that didn't stop the thoughts running rampant through his head.

_None of that would have happened if I'd just been killed with my parents. I'd be with them instead of suffering here._

It was a hard concept to think about, yet once it was in his head, the thought was toxic. It invaded every cell in his body and every fiber in his brain. Harry closed his eyes, completely unaware of the tears that fell from the corners. Laying there in the dark, with his body aching and nauseated from the chemotherapy - the same medications that were supposed to be saving his life - another thought popped into his head and he could almost hear that dark baritone voice directly in his ears say:

_You are not alone._

Snape had told him that plenty of times, yet it took until now for it to sink in, and deep down he knew he finally believed it. Feeling embarrassed for his tangent of negative thinking, Harry started to inhale and exhale slowly. As his body started falling asleep, he kept his mind focused on only two things: first, if his magic was actually getting stronger what were the odds he could beat Voldemort before it either went back to normal or disappeared - assuming it did either of those - and second, that he trusted Snape to help get him through whatever it was he had to face coming up.

~~~~SS~~~~

_How did that take such a hard turn today?_

Severus had anticipated Harry waking up in a more somber mood given everything that had happened on Friday and yesterday, however he had no idea the level of distraught the teen would experience over his magic. The only benefit to Harry's stronger unintentional magic was to give him hope that maybe, just maybe, he would not lose it in the end. Then he had to go and mess things up by bringing up the Dark Lord and Healer Smithe. What an absolutely idiotic thing thing to say to a teenager in such a state.

After Harry left for his bedroom, Severus pulled out the notebook of parchment he kept to track Harry's medication schedule, side effects he was experiencing, list of chemotherapy medications, and a calendar indicating when Harry had done magic in relation to his treatments. Without a doubt, the biggest surges of magic had come during or after what Harry aptly referred to as his _hell week_ of chemo - the five hour day followed by the three days of four hours. There had to be something about that awful combination of medications that seemed to break through - if he believed Minerva - whatever was blocking his magic.

_So if there is a block, then is there pure untouched magic underneath?_

If that were true, the Gryffindor was basically doing accidental magic. Albeit very powerful accidental magic that he seemed to have some type of control over since it wasn't as if he were apparating himself somewhere random or things as such. He filled up a full page of notes with all his ideas so he would remember it all once he was able to speak with Minerva again about it; likely on Friday for Harry's second magical testing.

As always, Severus checked in on Harry later that night and breathed a sigh of relief that the young wizard was fast asleep; oddly with the enchanted window turned off. With a wave of his wand, the lanterns in the corner gave an extremely small orange glow around the room, enough for Harry to see his way to the lavatory should he need it in the middle of the night, but not enough to disturb the sleep he obviously wanted by turning off the window.

With the newfound light, Severus could now see that on the floor beside the bed was the pail that had the telltale signs of being recently used. Pulling out his wand yet again, Severus quietly said _accio Harry Potter's sphere_ and the small ball he'd kept on the fireplace mantle since Harry's pneumonia came racing into his hands. Unsure if Harry had simply not needed his assistance or didn't want to call out without the sphere, he returned it to its rightful place on the young wizard's bedside table hoping that he wouldn't need to use it.

Taking one more glance at Harry, Severus placed his right hand on the teen's chest. His ribcage was still extremely gaunt making the professor's own chest tighten, yet Severus could feel the rapid beating of Harry's heart against it. Satisfied that Harry would be alright, he left the room; choosing not to fully close the door behind him, telling himself it was just in case the sphere did not work so he would be able to hear if Harry needed him.

The professor resisted the urge to work on testing the black substance he collected from Harry's vomit earlier that afternoon. In addition to being unable to properly run through any tests with only one good arm, he truthfully wasn't sure where to start in the testing process. If it wasn't something biological, there was really only one other option.

_Was it possible for dark magic to manifest itself into a physical substance?_

That was the hypothesis he was needing to test and the inquiry that kept racing through his mind. Tomorrow he'd start his research and he knew exactly which texts he would need for his search. Unfortunately, neither of them were located in a place convenient for him to retrieve himself, nonetheless it just so happened he had his sixth year class first thing Monday morning.

* * *

After the conversation with Albus regarding his lack of attention towards his Head of House duties, Severus had been more cognizant of his attitude in classes at the end of last week and committed to spending more time available to the supposed needs of his Slytherins. Harry had been more than understanding to Severus's position when he explained the change of schedule over breakfast that morning - though he hadn't explained the full reasoning and the official reprimanding he'd received - except it did not help ease the professor's mind on the subject, so he had asked Molly to stay with Harry during his chemotherapy.

"Turn to page 213," he bellowed from the front of his classroom. With his left arm still hardly usable - he chose not to use the sling today to prevent appearing weak - he decided against the practical lesson he originally had planned and decided they would start going over the unforgivable curses; a subject Severus was much too familiar with and was least excited to start.

"But professor," Hermione said without raising her hand, "we've already learned about these in our fourth year."

"That's five points from Gryffindor for talking out of turn, Miss. Granger," he sternly lectured; it was the first time he took points this year for that reason, "and I am well aware of your impromptu lesson from two years ago, however your professor at the time had an ulterior motive, and therefore we will be fully reviewing them yet again.

"If anyone else feels the need to complain about the curriculum that was set by witches and wizards above your intelligence level, please find your way to the door and do. not. return."

As expected, no one stood up to leave. Today was bound to be challenging for them all.

"Can anyone tell me one of the three unforgivable curses?" He said in a monotonous voice.

The professor was surprised when not a single hand went into the air, not even Hermione's. Perhaps they had gotten more used to his sunnier disposition than he or the headmaster had thought.

"As Miss. Granger so boldly pointed out, this was already covered and yet not a single person can give me one? I find that impossible to believe," He swept through the aisles between desks, robes billowing in his wake, "Mr. Longbottom, please name one of the curses."

As expected, Neville started to shake, "Um...The... The... Cruciatus, sir."

Immediately, Severus regretted his decision to pick on this particular Gryffindor. Of course the boy picked the curse that had been used on his parents. The professor lifted his Occlumency shields to hide away his guilt over making the teen relive that fact in his own mind. His dislike of this particular student was never a secret - mostly as he could have been chosen by the Dark Lord to target instead of Harry and by extension Lily - nevertheless, he cringed at himself for the need to play this part now. While Harry at least had the reason for why his parents were killed, Neville Longbottom would never know how close he became to being in Harry's position, and why his parents had been tortured to insanity. Making the boy dwell on it was overtly cruel, and something his counterpart would have done.

"The torture curse, yes. And what does the Cruciatus do when used?" Severus acted bored with the conversation as if Neville's pain over his parents meant nothing to him.

"It... It... Causes pain..."

And that was how the rest of the class was held. With Severus going through the Unforgivables and quizzing each student on the effects of them. He made sure to emphasize that the use of any one of them will land the caster a one way ticket to Azkaban if discovered - taking a good long look around at his Slytherin's - and that there are no shields or counter-curses that can be used against them. By the end of class he'd taken away 25 total points from Gryffindor - ten of which were completely warranted as Seamus attempted to stealthily set fire to Pansy Parkinson's notes. At this point, if the Death Eater parents wanted a way to get him removed from the school, he wasn't about to make it easy for them.

"Class is dismissed," he finally called once the period was over and the bell rang. "Mr. Malfoy, please stay behind."

The other students made snickering noises as Draco was collecting his books and notes, now at a slower pace then when the bell first rang. Once the classroom emptied, his Slytherin student slowly approached his desk. Waving his hand, the classroom door closed with a loud _bang_ that echoed across the walls.

"What was that all about, professor?" Draco boldly asked.

"Let's just say there are students keeping a close eye on me lately," he brushed off the concern; he could handle some overzealous parents who wanted to try to look good in front of the Dark Lord. "How are you today?"

Draco lifted his head a few centimeters higher, "I'm fine, sir."

_There's that word again..._

Unlike Harry, the blonde Slytherin never wore his heart on his sleeve and therefore getting him to open up about his experience, after the fact, would be exceedingly difficult. If he could pull it off, getting the two boys to lean on each other during their own times of distress could help them individually; they each had a unique viewpoint the other could benefit from.

"Very well, but I expect you to check in prior to dinner every night this week. If for no other reason than so I can hear you say everything this 'fine'," Severus said, tabling his thoughts and observations about the Malfoy heir for another time. "I need your assistance in another matter."

Shifting the weight of his school bag Draco gave a small frown and answered, "What do you need, sir?"

"Two specific reference books on Dark Magic from Malfoy Manor," he said, pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill to write the names of the two books he was searching for. "Lucius brought them to my attention several years ago and I'm in need of them for a new research project."

That was as much information as he was willing to give the blonde. Draco had gotten very skilled at Occlumency, nevertheless compartmentalization - as Albus always preached - was the best way to guarantee secrets stay hidden. Lucius did in fact have these two texts on the properties of Dark Magic, except Severus knew about them from a conversation they'd had in his other reality and the professor was willing to bet that they were still there in this one.

"Is this for the Order?" Draco asked, quietly reading over the two titles. If the teen recognized them, he did a great job at hiding it from Severus.

"No," he replied, justifying to himself that it wasn't exactly a lie as Harry did not belong to the Order, "it's for a personal research project. Do you think you can discreetly request them? And by that, I mean the Dark Lord cannot know."

"My mother would do just about anything for me, especially now that I'm marked," the blonde said, unknowingly flexing his left forearm with a look of disgust. Severus knew that face well and it was one Draco would always have when referencing his mark. "I think she knows the Dark Lord is just trying to punish me, and her, for my father's failure last year. If that means she'll go out of her way to help me, I'm not going to turn it down."

He could always count on Draco being Slytherin to his core.

"Thank you Draco," the professor said, handing the teen a note to excuse his tardiness to his next class, "Time is of the utmost importance right now, please send your correspondence as quickly as possible."

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry was frustrated because in the end, Snape not only cancelled his classes, he also refused to even let Hermione and Ron come over, claiming that Harry was so close to finishing out this phase it wasn't worth putting himself at any further risk. How could the young wizard argue with that? So he spent the final two days of his four hour chemotherapy resting in bed - between his rounds of vomiting - and working on whatever little bit of a school work he could focus on.

Snape had explained to him at breakfast Monday morning that he needed to spend more time available to his students, so Mrs. Weasley was going to be staying with him during those two days. Harry got the feeling that there was more to it than just the professor wanting to help students on their school work, but he dared not ask because it was clearly a sore topic to the man.

As promised, each of the two nights, Snape sat down with Harry to continue their Occlumency training; though it was more like mediation at this point. He was proud of himself for being able to instantly pull up his forest and his ability to focus on each of his senses as he soared through the bright sunny sky. What he noticed this time was that his landscape was filled with so much more of the small details that he either didn't have or didn't notice before. The leaves on the trees were a thick dark green and he could almost see the veins running through them; as if they were alive and waiting to protect his innermost thoughts and memories no matter what it took. The biggest change was the smell of the crisp air and the heat of the warm and bright sun, both being pulled in from his recent expedition to the Quidditch pitch last weekend. This landscape - or more accurately his mindscape - was a live manifestation of his mind and body, both of which were looking healthier than the last time he'd entered. That thought alone eased the inner turmoil he hadn't known was even there.

"You're improving," the professor said after their lesson Tuesday night and Harry beamed with pride. "Next I need you to start trying to bring this image up randomly throughout the day, while you're brushing your teeth, taking a shower, doing school work, things like that. You'll find at first the image may not be as clear as it was tonight or even like our first lesson, but the more you practice the better you'll get at it."

Harry went to bed that night feeling like he was on top of the world. His long chemotherapy was done and he only had two easier weeks left, he was almost fully caught up on his school work through last week at least, and he was making some real progress on Occlumency. Things in the dungeons were finally looking up and he was going to relish in it for however long or short it lasted.

When Wednesday rolled around, Harry woke up feeling in better spirits than he had in awhile. According to Healer Smithe - for whatever that was now worth - he wouldn't see that terrible combination of medications again until sometime in his third phase of consolidation, which meant he was now officially on the upswing to feeling more like his older self. Waking up to that thought alone was enough to get him focused on his studies, plus Wednesdays were his Transfiguration and Charms tutoring, so he'd have Hermione there with him most of the day before having dinner with his friends.

"What's up with Snape lately?" Ron asked with a mouth full of bread while he, Hermione, and Dudley were having dinner with Harry. Hermione gave the redhead a disgusted look; one Harry was so used to seeing, it calmed him to see something so normal again.

"What'd you mean?" Harry asked, taking a small bite of his Shepherd's Pie.

"He just seems more like... The old Snape," Ron said.

"The old Snape?" Dudley asked, clearly more than a little confused.

"Remember me telling you that I had a complicated history with him?" Harry replied until Ron jumped back in, taking over the conversation.

"He's back to being a total git!" Ron said incredulously. "What'd you do to him? At this rate, Gryffindor will have no points left before Halloween!"

"Why do you think it's me that's the problem?" Harry argued back, "Maybe you all deserved to lose those points? Anyway, I don't know what you're talking about, he's been fine at home."

Harry cringed the moment that last word left his mouth. Ron was already in a foul mood and he knew he'd just made it worse.

"Home?" Ron asked with an expression as if he'd been slapped in the face. "So this is your home now? First you defend that ferret Malfoy and now this?"

"Ronald," Hermione warned in a way that Harry knew they'd routinely discussed his living situation, "don't even think about it, do you hear me?"

"It's fine, Hermione, if he wants to be a prat about all of this let him," Harry said confidently. "This is my home now. I want to live here, Severus wants me to live here... don't you think it's about time I have one? Or do you just like flaunting how lucky you are to have two parents who-"

"Enough you two," Hermione yelled out. "I will not sit here and watch you both go through this again.

"Ron, get over it please. Who cares if Professor Snape wants to help Harry. Neither of us were there this summer and you should be happy your best friend has someone to depend on in addition to us. Every kid deserves parents, alright? And Harry probably does more than anyone."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry mumbled. He didn't really need her painting him like a charity case, but it seemed to get through to Ron.

"Sorry, Mate," the redhead also mumbled, at least giving Harry the courtesy to look him in the eyes. "Just sayin' Snape's back to being the greasy git and I didn't even realize how much he'd changed until this week."

That definitely gave Harry something for his mind to chew on. What if something happened and he was going back to his old personality? What if one day he woke up and didn't remember anything from his old reality or worse he doesn't remember anything from this past summer? That would be absolutely devastating to Harry.

The rest of dinner was spent mostly in awkward silence. Hermione was trying to talk Ron off the proverbial ledge and Harry was lost in his thoughts about what could be going on with Snape. The man had been distracted lately and with everything that happened last weekend, it was enough to push anyone beyond their limits. The sudden change in behavior worried the young wizard though, no matter what excuses he tried to make for his professor.

Herbology was nearly impossible for Harry to focus on that night. Without any need to use magic in this class and Potions, he should have been more attentive, but his mind kept going back to the observations Ron had made at dinner today.

_Maybe he found out about the notebook?_

"Harry?"

The young wizard jumped at the sound of his name combined with the feel of a hand on his right arm. Professor Sprout had obviously noticed his lack of attention to her lecture.

"Sorry professor," Harry said sheepishly, "where were we again?"

"Is everything alright, Harry?" The Hufflepuff Head of House asked. "You've seemed distracted tonight."

Harry bit his lower lip. He'd never really had much of an opinion on Professor Sprout one way or the other; she's just been his Herbology professor. For the most part, the Hufflepuffs haven't had an issue with him either, outside of the Heir of Slytherin and Triwizard Tournament issues, so maybe he could tell her what was going through his mind.

"It's nothing," he decided to go with instead, "it's stupid really. I just... I have a bit of headache tonight."

"Let's call it a night then," she said kindly closing up the books in front of them and starting to pack in the models of Snargaluff pods. "You've got a good start on these and I don't want to push you too far."

"Thank you professor," Harry felt guilty for using his illness as a way to get out of tutoring, but at the same time it wasn't fair for Professor Sprout to go through everything twice simply because he couldn't focus.

Most of the day Thursday, Harry had been going back and forth on what Ron had said about Snape and his change of behavior. Thinking back to the few times he'd actually seen Snape this week, outside of their two Occlumency lessons, Harry had managed to convince himself that the professor was a bit more "greasy git-ish" then he'd been since the beginning of the summer.

Sitting at the desk in his bedroom focusing on the rain outside his enchanted window instead of his Herbology essay, he decided he wanted another opinion on the matter at the same moment the parchment announcing Malfoy's arrival for their last Defense tutoring popped up in front of his face. Without a groan or any other negative notions, the young wizard went to the door and promptly opened it. Since their conversation on Saturday night, Harry had been surprised how easy it was to relate to the other teen and even more surprised how much he actually appreciated their new camaraderie. Oddly, Malfoy was the person who came the closest to understanding his situation.

This time, Malfoy had his hands full of books, parchment, and what looked like small people that were wiggling around in his arms. The blonde was struggling to hold onto it all in addition to his school bag slung over his left shoulder.

"Care to give me a hand, Potter?" He called out the minute Harry opened the door.

Nervously, Harry went to take hold of the small people - he could now tell there were four of them - when a bag popped in his hands. Ignoring Malfoy's odd expression, he opened the bag for the other teen who placed the models, not so gently Harry noted, into it.

"What's all this for?" Harry asked once Malfoy was set up in the sitting room.

"We learned about the Unforgivables this week," Malfoy explained poking the small model closest to him with his wand. A small wand appeared in the "toy's" - Harry called them because he'd realized these were probably a wizarding version of toy soldiers - hand.

"So..." Harry nodded his head towards the table, "They're going to demonstrate them?"

"On top of the other spells we've learned this year," the blonde explained, "Ingenious isn't it? I came up with the idea myself."

 _Of course he did_ , Harry thought, yet he was excited to see the little soldiers duel and secretly hoped they'd get to do this for every tutoring session.

Even though Harry didn't need a visual explanation - or any explanation really - of the Unforgivable curses having been personally familiar with all three, there was still some useful information he was able to learn both from the theory and watching the dueling soldiers. A small chuckle left his mouth when he thought about how different his childhood would have been growing up in a wizarding household. How much more prepared for Hogwarts would he have been if his parents had raised him with magic surrounding him all the time? The pictures in his books would have moved, his toy soldiers would duel with wands instead of guns, not to mention they'd actually move, and he could have been pretending to brew potions; though he doubted that would have changed Snape's opinion of him in that first lesson.

Thinking of Snape brought back the topic he wanted to broach with Malfoy.

"Have you noticed anything different with Professor Snape this week?" The Gryffindor asked once everything was packed up from their lesson. It had been just as exciting as Harry had expected and he was looking forward to their next lesson on Tuesday.

"In my opinion - which you did ask for by the way-" Malfoy said in a way that made Harry roll his eyes questioning if he shouldn't have asked. "- he's been off since the summer. Of course, he did have to spend it with you... so there you go, what else would you expect?"

A year ago, Harry would have taken offense to that statement, however now he could tell it was said with none of the usual malice.

"That's not exactly what I meant and you know it," Harry replied.

"Hey," Malfoy replied, lifting his hands innocently, "you asked. Seriously though, I have noticed he's been on edge lately, but it's to be expected given everything going on."

"You mean with the Smithe's?"

"Of course. Now that I think about it though, he made a strange request to me the other day..." Malfoy closed his eyes in thought, "it was Monday after class. He's interested in some obscure books on Dark Magic. Honestly surprised me that the Malfoy library would have something he didn't already know."

"Maybe it's for classes?" Harry gave a guess; in the back of his mind he didn't want it to be Snape falling back into his "old ways".

"Dunno," Malfoy shook his head uncharacteristically, "I'm going to take a look through them once my mother manages to get them to me. Without _him_ finding out either."

Harry shivered; it would be awful to have such a dark evil wizard living with his mum. In fact, Harry wasn't sure he'd be able to stay at school if one of his family members was being targeted like that.

"So what happened between you and Professor Snape this summer?" Malfoy asked. The other teen was reorganizing the contents of his bag obviously trying to avoid looking at Harry when he asked the question.

"Things just," Harry struggled thinking of the right word, "...changed I guess. It was so gradual, I hardly even noticed it."

Nodding his head several times, Malfoy finally made eye contact and Harry could see a deep seated curiosity within the grey eyes staring back at him.

"Well," Malfoy said standing up to leave, "it wasn't so subtle to everyone else."

* * *

Harry found himself sitting on the sofa trying his hardest to keep his anxiety from taking over when Snape came bustling through the door at half past nine. The Gryffindor watched keenly as the professor went straight to his office with an armful of rolled parchment and books. Trying to focus on his Potions assignment that Professor Slughorn had just assigned at their tutoring that night, he almost laughed about how much he was turning into Hermione. Ron should consider spending every evening here and he'd have no issues getting his work done because that was all Harry really did... All he really could do at this point at least.

"Something humorous?" The dour professor asked, sitting in his armchair with a frustrated expression upon his face.

_He even looks like the old Snape._

Harry furrowed his brows with a frown, "Erm..."

"Eloquent as always I see," Snape interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose while simultaneously closing his eyes.

Harry physically jerked his whole body back at the insinuation. Something had to be going on for the professor to say that with so much hatred laced within his voice. He looked up, unable to meet the professor's eyes which had snapped open at the recognition of what he'd said and how he'd said it. The man he viewed as more than a mentor was now cradling his head in his hands and his deep breaths could be heard throughout the room.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he said somberly. "It just came out."

"Whatever. I'm going to go to bed sir," Harry replied, not waiting for an answer before getting up and walking out of the room, before he had a chance to do something embarrassing like cry in front of his professor.

Without even thinking, he slammed his door behind him and crawled into bed. The lanterns in each corner of his room dimmed causing Harry to panic slightly now that he knew it was his own uncontrolled - or highly controlled - magic causing it. Deciding he needed something else to focus on, he tried to feel for the magic that was so obviously coursing through him, but unlike last week when he held his wand, he could not feel a single bit of it. Was it because he was burning through his reserve of it instead of actively moving the magic through him?

He was facing away from the door when he heard it open slowly. Trying to keep his breathing even hoping to convince Snape he was asleep, he felt the bed dip just behind his lower back.

"I'm surprised the door wasn't warded locked," Snape said, placing a hand on Harry's arm. "I am sorry for what I said to you, it was not fair. "

Unsure if he wanted to speak up or continue to feign sleep, the Gryffindor stayed completely still. For the longest time, neither wizard made a sound. Harry closed his eyes tightly as images of himself sitting back in Potions class flashed before his eyes.

_You might be laboring under the delusion that the entire wizarding world is impressed with you... but I don't care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me, Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him._

His breathing rapidly increased as he fought against the negative memory. No... This wasn't the same Snape; Ron was wrong and perhaps he misheard the insult in the sitting room. Deciding he couldn't sit silent, the young wizard turned over to face Snape. The professor was staring down at the bedspread appearing deep in thought.

"What's going on?" Harry asked indignantly. "I hadn't really noticed the change until Ron mentioned something about it yesterday."

Snape lifted his head, "It has nothing to do with you. I can promise you that."

"So then why can't you tell me?" Harry sat up leaning against the back of his headboard. "Maybe I can help."

"It's not your responsibility to help me," the professor said, "I know you haven't had much experience in this, however you are the child and it is my responsibility to protect you."

Harry flushed. He definitely didn't have any experience in that as he had always taken care of himself and everyone around him. What if he wanted to help, shouldn't he at least have the option?

"I'm hardly a child," the young wizard said quietly watching the wheels going to work in Snape's mind trying to figure out how to navigate the conversation that didn't come easy to either wizard.

"No matter how old you get, you'll still be... a child to me," exhaling dramatically Snape continued, "There have been inquiries to my sudden change of demeanor, particularly as it relates to you and my Slytherins."

That revelation didn't surprise Harry one bit. After everything with Crabbe and Goyle someone was bound to complain that their Head of House was acting a little off. It wasn't fair at all though; not to Snape nor to the other students who had to sit out the professor's wrath the previous years.

Harry took a moment astonished by the idea that such a large change happened simply because in a different world Snape had adopted him. That somehow he had managed to heal whatever wound the professor had kept deep inside him all of those years; likely the grief from his mum's - Snape's best friend even after their row - death. Furthermore, that change had implications beyond only the two of them, the one change had benefited the rest of the wizarding world when Voldemort did not manage to return. Again Harry found himself pining for the world he never lived in... The world he died in. Would it have been worth dying at barely seventeen to have lived those five years without the pain from this world?

"So you have to go back to hating me and the Gryffindors." Harry said making the statement clear it was unfair.

"Not exactly," Snape narrowed his eyes in thought, "I just have to do a better job at blending the two worlds together. What did you think was going on?"

"Erm," Harry paused to give himself time to think if he should tell the professor the truth, "that you were going back to your old self? That somehow you were getting slowly replaced and you'd eventually wake up not remembering any of this."

It sounded completely mad now that he'd said it out loud.

"I don't think it works like that," Snape reassured the young wizard. "I am here now and I'm not going anywhere. As for when you return to my classroom? Before you restart classes again, I promise you we will sit down and discuss the expectations during class time. I will not let you sit and ruminate within your mind."

The idea of starting classes again flipped a switch for Harry. There was only just over a fortnight left and the thought made him smile, even if Snape had to keep up whatever appearances for his Slytherins.

"It's getting close," Harry said ready to drop the topic of Snape's old behavior, "Will I be meeting this new muggle doctor tomorrow?"

Snape gave a small smile at the transition; he'd managed to navigate yet another bump between them. "Dr. Swanson will be by after dinner, before we start your magical testing. Poppy will be transporting her every week for your treatments."

"And Healer Smithe?" While the healer technically betrayed him, Harry found himself missing the idea of him no longer overseeing his care.

"I'll be conferring with him regularly, however he will be staying at the safehouse."

That sounded an awful lot like when Sirius was required to stay at Headquarters. Basically they were imprisoning him and while it may be for his own safety, Harry was sad for the family. Healer Smithe was trying to help Harry and in the end he and his family were being punished for it.

"Get some sleep," Snape said, lifting the bedcovers to pseudo-tuck Harry in. "You have a busy day tomorrow.. two sets of tutoring, Transfiguration lesson, appointment with Dr. Swanson and then magical testing."

Harry yawned; the thought of all of that was already exhausting.

"Good night, Severus," Harry called once the professor stood to take his leave.

"Sleep well, Harry."

The young wizard had barely heard the door close before he fell into a deep sleep. The emotions from the last several days had built up inside of him and now he would be able to focus on the next step... Getting ready to go back to classes. All that had to wait a little longer though because tomorrow he was meeting his new muggle doctor and he was more nervous for that then he thought he should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Meeting Meghan


	41. Meeting Meghan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third post this week, a bit shorter after two super long chapters though. A big thank you to all my reviewers, it definitely helps keep me focused on getting the next parts written!

* * *

_Friday 11th, October 1996_

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry didn't like her. He had absolutely no reason not to like her - she was polite, she was sympathetic, she tried really hard to understand his position, and she seemed extremely knowledgeable about his cancer - more so than Healer Smithe did, which made sense since it was her specialty - it was just a feeling he had the moment he saw her. Of course, the young wizard had really liked Healer Smithe and he ended up working with Voldemort, so apparently his judgement of character couldn't always be trusted. None of that really mattered though, because he needed a physician and she was apparently the most qualified.

Snape had arrived shortly after dinner, so shortly in fact that Harry almost hadn't finished his roast and mash in time, taking the last several bites as Snape was impatiently waiting for him in the sitting room. They were going to be meeting the new doctor up in the hospital wing where she was apparently going to be going through a whole range of tests and questions that he already had done with Healer Smithe. As much as Harry wanted to complain, the professor explained it was common for a new doctor to want their own set of information; something that was also common practice in the wizarding world too.

Harry was sitting on one of the more comfortable hospital beds with the curtain partitions shielding him from any wandering students. He was wearing his muggle jeans and a green jumper trying his hardest to wait patiently for Dr. Swanson - Harry thought he should probably get used to using her name - to arrive. His legs were swinging back and forth as his body tried to get out the nervous energy in any way possible. Snape was sitting in the chair to his right with his right leg crossed over his left at the ankle, balancing a new book Harry hadn't seen him reading before.

_I wonder if Malfoy came through with the book on Dark Magic?_

"Sit still," the professor said, raising just his eyes to meet Harry's. "Everything will be just fine, Harry."

"Easy for you to say," the young wizard replied, shifting his weight to try to stop his swinging legs, "what exactly does she have to do again?"

Placing the book face open in his lap, the professor gave Harry an expression he hadn't seen before, it was somewhere between patronizing and frustrating, "She will likely do a muggle physical - though I don't see why our diagnostic scan isn't satisfactory - blood work, and likely review the medications you're taking, which is why I am here."

A sudden thought jumped into Harry's mind and he felt his face flush, "Will you be here for... All of it?"

Clicking his jaw closed in thought, Snape carefully answered, "I will be here for as much or little as you'd like. As your official medical proxy, I will get the results either way, however if you're more comfortable without me here I'll step out during your exam."

The Gryffindor nodded lightly. That would save him at least a little of the embarrassment, though now that he was here waiting for her - Dr. Swanson - to show up, the idea of a female doctor was quite terrifying. What if he had a personal question he needed to ask about himself? Before he started chemotherapy, talking about the whole sterility side effect had been mortifying enough with Healer Smithe, he couldn't imagine having that same conversation with a person who didn't even share his own... He couldn't even go there now.

"And why is she becoming my doctor again?"

At this point Snape's face made it clear he was pushing his luck.

"Unless you'd like to be under the care of the man who was sending information on you directly to the Dark Lord," Snape replied sarcastically, "she was the next best option. Alton had been consulting with her on your file - anonymously, of course - since day one, and she has a younger magical brother. A muggleborn Ravenclaw who graduated the year before I started at Hogwarts and is now working in the Department of Mysteries."

Harry could feel Snape's eyes watching him for any reaction to the fact that his new doctor's brother works in the same place he got Sirius killed. It had been a while since he'd thought of Sirius in a grieving way and Harry assumed that had a lot to do with his cancer distracting him and a little to with Snape filling at least some of the void that was left by Sirius's death. It was now to the point that just hearing the location didn't open up the raw wound any longer.

"So you've made sure she's safe? Or rather, that I'll be safe?"

"Absolutely," Snape replied confidently, but both wizards knew that the Order had done the same with Alton and it didn't make one difference.

Footsteps could be heard coming up toward the curtain and Harry was amazed that they were recognizable as McGonagall's. As his official guardian, he wasn't surprised that she would be here for this. The elderly witch peered around the curtain and, satisfied that she hadn't missed anything, walked over and conjured a chair next to Snape's, who didn't even flinch when the chair popped into existence while he was focused back on whatever book he was reading. It was such an odd sight seeing his two professors pretty much stepping in like his parents.

"Good evening Harry. How are you doing?" McGonagall greeted him, taking her seat. He had seen her directly before dinner for their Transfiguration lesson and they would be going straight from this exam to his magical one, so he was a little confused by her formality.

"Erm..." Harry replied nervously, "I'm ok, I guess. A little nervous."

"I'm sure you'll be just fine."

 _Again, easy for her to say_.

It was only another five minutes before he heard two sets of quick steps approaching the other side of the curtain, one of which he knew belonged to Madam Pomfrey and he assumed the other was Dr. Swanson's.

"There you are Mr. Potter," the medi-witch announced as she came around the curtain; Harry wasn't sure where else she had expected him to be.

"Yup," he said trying to hold in his sarcasm, "here I am."

Dr. Meghan Swanson entered directly behind Madam Pomfrey. She was a friendly looking woman that Harry guessed was in her early fifties. She had straight, shoulder length blonde hair with bright icy blue eyes behind a small set of black, plastic framed glasses. She was dressed in a knee-length black skirt with a solid soft yellow top underneath a white doctor's coat that caused Harry's anxiety to rise by simply the sight of it. His only other experience with an actual muggle doctor was when he had his port placed back in July and he hadn't liked that one either.

"Hello Mr. Potter," Dr. Swanson greeted with a smile. She did not attempt to shake his hand, likely because she would know all about immunocompromised patients. "It's nice to finally be able to put a face to the file I've been so often reading."

"Nice to meet you too, Dr. Swanson," Harry gave a small wave, "and you can just call me Harry."

"Harry," she made a note in the file the young wizard had noticed in her hands, "if Dr. Swanson is too formal for you, most of my patients call me Dr. M, Dr. Meg, or Dr. Meghan depending on their age. Unfortunately I do see a lot of younger children."

Harry frowned at that statement; how awful it would be to go through all of this and be too young to understand any of it. At least he could understand the non-medical jargon of it all and attempt at the rest of it. Before his diagnosis, he had no idea what a platelet was and now the moment he bled or bruised for any reason, it was the first word that came to his mind. The Gryffindor was sure there would never be a day where he didn't have that worry in the back of his thoughts.

Harry was brought back to what was going on around him when Snape stood up and shook Dr. Meghan's hand with McGonagall following right afterwards.

"I see here that Mr. Snape is your medical proxy," the doctor was flipping through pages of the file in her hand, "and Ms. McGonagall is your guardian?"

"Yeah," Harry responded. Calling McGonagall "Ms" instead of "professor" sounded wrong to him and he almost said so.

"Perfect. And are you alright with them staying as we go through your medical history?"

She had a serious expression on her face that prevented Harry from laughing... What medical history did she really expect to get from him beyond the Leukemia which - he naturally assumed - was already well documented. Not trusting himself to contain either the laugh or sarcastic remark, the young wizard nodded.

"Ok then let's get started," Dr. Meghan stated as she looked around the small area for a chair. McGonagall conjured one up and if Dr. Meghan was surprised, she didn't act it. "I'll start with some information about myself. My name is Meghan Swanson and I'm married with two teenage children. My younger brother Christopher is a wizard, the only one in our family, and he went to school here.

"I'm what's called a pediatric oncologist, meaning I specialize in treating a wide variety of cancers in children and adolescents. Honestly, I've never had a witch or wizard as a patient before, so please don't give me too hard of a time if I do things just a little differently. It's my understanding though that wizards don't generally get cancer, correct?"

"That is correct," Snape spoke up before anyone else had the chance to. Harry wondered what his first impression was of the muggle doctor. To Dr. Meghan's credit, she didn't question how he'd gotten it, to which Harry was grateful. However, when she asked Harry to tell her some things about himself, he flushed and stuttered.

"I... Erm," he couldn't think much about him beyond his cancer.

"Harry is in his sixth year at Hogwarts," McGonagall started and then turned back to Harry to continue.

"Erm, yeah. I want to be an Auror, which is someone who catches dark wizards," it seemed trivial to explain this to a muggle, however Dr. Meghan was listening intently to him which helped calm his nerves. "I play Quidditch; I'm the seeker, or at least I used to before..."

He trailed off and the expression that passed through Dr. Meghan's face was one of understanding. She'd had plenty of patients who needed to drastically change their lifestyle with their diagnosis and for an athlete like Harry, it would be a hard adjustment.

"Tell me a bit about your living arrangements," the doctor asked, writing something down in her notes Harry couldn't read. He didn't like where she was going with this.

"Oh, well I used to live with my aunt and uncle, but they died in a car crash this past July," he was surprised by the small touch of sorrow he had saying that out loud, "and now I live here with Professor Snape."

Dr. Meghan gave a quick glance towards the defense professor and flatly said, "I see."

Harry felt himself getting defensive over her attitude about the professor. "He's really good at keeping on top of my medications, both the tablets I take and the IV treatments."

"And what about your parents, Harry?"

The Gryffindor was momentarily confused and ashamed. He was so used to everyone knowing his history already that he forgot to include them.

"They died when I was only one. They were murdered actually," his voice was shaking because he couldn't remember a time when he had to actually explain it like that.

And so the questions continued, most of which Harry couldn't answer because as an orphan he didn't know anything about his family's health history, and he was getting frustrated at having to remind the doctor of that. He was most surprised when Snape was able to answer some very high level questions for him, like what his maternal grandparents used to do for work and the fact that his mum's dad was taking medication for a thyroid issue. For some of the other questions he committed to asking Dudley about; primarily if there was a history of cancer, specifically Leukemia, in their family.

When they got to his Leukemia history, Dr. Meghan pulled out his chart and walked Harry through all of his results. She took the time to go through them not only at a level he could understand, but also multiple times for him. Throughout the entire process Harry got the feeling that she disagreed with some of the decisions Healer Smithe had made - specifically about how involved Harry was - which did not help his opinion of her.

"It looks like you are two rounds away from finishing phase one of consolidation?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said excitedly. "Tomorrow is another IT and a one hour and then there's only one left. Healer Smithe said I could go back to classes on the 28th."

"As early as the 28th," Snape corrected, "depending on your blood counts."

Dr. Meghan gave a small chuckle, "We'll keep a close eye on your counts and make that decision as we get closer. Based on what I'm seeing, I don't anticipate any issues making the 28th.

"Now, let's go over some of the side effects you have been experiencing. I'm sure you don't want to dwell on these, so unless something major comes up, we'll go through them rather quickly."

Harry looked around the room at the adults all watching him.

"Well," he started feeling put on the spot, "I get sick just about every round and it lasts about a day... Erm I have pain just about everywhere and then sometimes in my stomach, but that's..." How could he explain his magic issue?

"It's your magic," the doctor answered for him. "It's all in your file. I see that's why you're on a pretty high dose of preemptive morphine. I'll keep that for now, but I'd like to see for myself where the pain threshold lies for you."

Harry looked over at Snape for his opinion on that assessment and relaxed when the professor gave a small nod of approval.

"Have you had any mouth sores?" Dr. Meghan jumped back in asking.

Harry nodded. It was one of the few symptoms he hadn't gone through with Snape.

"Fatigue or constipation?

The Gryffindor flushed and nodded, "Both at times."

"How about numbness or tingling in your hands or feet?"

Harry ignored the pointed look from Snape as he paused before answering, "Some tingling; mostly in my hands."

"Hair loss?"

For that one, Harry simply removed his hat and let that speak for itself. He was getting tired of all the questions.

"Any rashes or chest pain?"

The young wizard shook his head, "No, neither of those."

"Last question before the exam," Dr. Meghan put the notebook aside. "How about your diet and your sleep?"

"Well," Harry started, "most nights I sleep alright if I'm not up sick. The induction seemed to be worse than this phase. I always felt too... irritable, maybe... to sleep.

"Food is hard though; during the chemotherapy days it's mostly porridge with fruit, applesauce, avocado, smoothies - a lot of those - and I try to eat normal between rounds. It's hard because sometimes I don't have an appetite even when I'm not nauseous."

"We'll keep a close watch on your meals," the doctor said, leaning forward in a way that made Harry feel like he shouldn't be embarrassed. "There are medications we can give to help stimulate your appetite, but I like to avoid those if at all possible."

"Me too," Harry gave a small chuckle.

"The irritability from the last phase was likely due to the steroid. Let me know if it becomes an issue going forward," she said, with the sympathetic eyes Harry hated, "If you find yourself unable to sleep regularly, it can become a problem and unfortunately it's quite common with some of the later phases."

Dr. Meghan stood up and pulled out a pair of exam gloves from the bag she had been carrying.

"Next I'll be doing a quick exam and then I'd like to do your next biopsy to confirm where you're at. If everything looks ok, you won't need another one before phase two of consolidation," she took a quick glance around his bed, "Is there anyone you'd like to stay for this?"

"If it's ok, Severus can stay," he had been thinking about it and since Snape was responsible for his medical care he should stay for the exam. He also grew up in the muggle world and might have some idea what was going on.

After the embarrassing questionnaire, the exam was relatively easy. Snape ended up having to run a diagnostic scan to get his weight and height, since Dr. Meghan was surprised that Hogwarts did not have a muggle scale. Unlike Healer Smithe, the doctor spoke his height and weight out loud - 174 cm and about seven stone - which meant that somehow in all of this he managed to grow a little over three centimeters. He didn't want to think of his weight and Dr. Meghan didn't say anything about it.

Next, she had the young wizard remove his jumper so she could start with examining his port. As often as possible, Harry had been avoiding the mirror whenever he showered knowing he wouldn't recognize the image staring back at him and he was grateful neither adult mentioned his skeletal frame. Snape laid a blanket, which Harry was sure had a heating charm placed upon it, across his legs when he shivered the second his jumper was removed. Laying flat in the bed Dr. Meghan felt his port and area around it.

"Is it causing any issues? Any pain?" She asked him.

"No," he said honestly, "I don't really even notice it anymore. At least not until someone hit it a couple of weeks ago."

"I read that," she said with an anger in her voice that surprised Harry.

She took three vials of blood from his port, flushed it out and then moved on to examine his stomach. The Gryffindor was happy they decided to do this today, before his chemo tomorrow, otherwise he was sure he would have sicked up all over her. For a split second, he was going to tell her about the black vomit, however something told him not to say anything and he was pretty sure Snape would have spoken up by now if he wanted her to know about it.

Once the physical exam was completed, Harry was subjected to another bone marrow biopsy where Madam Pomfrey came back to assist. These were by far one of the worst parts of Leukemia and he would be happy when the day came that he would never be subjected to it again. After what felt like hours, Professor McGonagall came back around the curtain conjuring the chairs once again.

"Overall," Dr. Meghan started once Harry had his jumper back on and was sitting up in the hospital bed, "everything is looking as normal as can be at this point. There's nothing alarming about your reaction to the chemotherapy, your lungs are healing nicely from the pneumonia, and your port looks healthy.

"I am extremely concerned about your weight Harry. You've lost almost two stone since you started chemo in July and you started all of this on the smaller side for your height. Based on your chart, it looks like the four day rounds hit you hard and since those are now done, for now I'll leave it at keeping a close eye on how you handle the next couple of rounds before we start intervening."

"What can we do to help him not lose any more weight?" McGonagall asked with a sparkle in her eyes that Harry suspected was the start of tears.

"We can try to switch up the anti-nausea medicine and possibly the morphine to something your stomach might tolerate a little better," the doctor answered. "I'll also leave some higher calorie and protein powders to add to whatever smoothie sits the best."

She pulled out two containers and handed them both to Snape. Somehow - most likely his upset face - Harry suspected the professor thought this was something that should have been discussed before now.

"I have everything I need for today," Dr. Meghan cheerfully said packing up her bag, "Madam Pomfrey will come to collect me at the hospital tomorrow and I'll be back to do your IT and IV chemo. We'll also discuss phase two of consolidation then, if that's ok with you."

"Absolutely," Harry perked up at that statement; anything to keep this moving along.

"Try to get some sleep tonight Harry. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you Dr. Meghan," the Gryffindor mumbled watching her walk away with Madam Pomfrey.

Initially no one knew what to do next, so Harry swung his leg over the side of the bed to put his trainers back on.

"I'm going to grab Albus and will meet you both for the magical testing," Professor McGonagall said before taking her leave around the curtain leaving Harry and Snape alone.

"What'd you think of Dr. Meghan?" Harry asked.

"She's definitely thorough," the professor said flatly, giving Harry no indication of his actual feelings.

"Ha! And she wasn't even examining you!" Harry laughed, but then turned serious, "I'm not sure how I feel about her, though. Something just seems off. Does that make sense?"

Snape and Harry walked side-by-side leaving the hospital wing on their way to the Room of Requirement.

"It makes perfect sense, Harry," Snape replied. "For one, you started all of this with Alton and that alone created a bond that's hard to break. It's going to take some time to adjust to Dr. Swanson. Not to mention, you've recently found out that your previous healer had an ulterior motive while you were in his care; this is a natural reaction."

But Harry wasn't so sure it was as simple as Snape was thinking. As much as the young wizard wanted to believe him, there was still something about Dr. Meghan that Harry just didn't like.

~~~~SS~~~~

Entering the room of requirement for Harry's second magical testing was far more relaxed than the first tests last week. Without Alton being present, they would be allowed to speak more freely about what was happening, with the exception to anything Harry should not know about yet - like the block or Horcrux.

The professor could tell Harry was also much more relaxed this time around, likely because he knew what to expect combined with the knowledge of his unintentional magic. Today he wanted to try some additional testing of this new magic to determine if it was simply his magical core manifesting itself differently, or if it was actually an expansion of his core that he could then tap into - as Minerva alluded to last week.

The room was set up much the same as it had been the previous week, the only notable exception was Alton's missing presence. Harry quickly went through all the tests from last week not including the boggart as Severus had no intentions of putting Harry through that again. With his ever-changing emotions, who knew what his boggart would turn out being this week and he didn't want to cause Harry anymore undue stress.

For Severus, the dueling was the most impressive part of the night. Magic level aside, Harry was showing an aptitude for the subject far beyond that of his peers and definitely beyond where his _old Harry_ had been. Thinking back to this reality, it made sense that Harry had honed in on this specific discipline as he would have needed extensive knowledge specifically for the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, as well as when he was teaching his defense group. He loathed giving any credit to the imbecile Umbridge, especially after his discovery of the blood quill that still infuriated him inside whenever he saw the permanent scars on Harry's hand, however in this case there is at least some perceived good to come from the bad situation. Not taking into account this unintentional magic, if the Gryffindor didn't lose any magic, it was Severus's opinion that he could easily be trained to a level that could defeat the Dark Lord - a thought that both terrified the professor and humbled him. Severus found himself looking forward to Harry's return to his class and what he could do to help the Gryffindor expand his wand work.

By the end of the testing, Harry was drenched in sweat and looked completely exhausted - in a good way - but he managed to disarm the practice dummy on three separate occasions. It was the last round against the charmed opponent that ended up taking Harry down in the end and the defense professor had to step in.

"I still could have disarmed it, y'know," the Gryffindor said cockily.

Severus gave a small chuckle and offered his hand to help Harry up from the floor.

"I'm sure you could have, however there was no need to push you," they both took their seats back at the table with Albus and Minerva who were also looking quite pleased with Harry's performance.

"Ah Harry," Albus said jubilantly, "very well done indeed."

"Thanks sir," Harry replied, taking the towel Severus handed to him and using it to wipe his face and head clean. "So what does all this mean for my magic?"

"It means," Minerva jumped in to respond, "that we need to do some more research before we can tell you anything for certain."

Of course that was the responsible and reasonable thing to do, except Severus really wanted to test the unintentional magic and see if it can become intentionally used. One look over at Minerva told him this was not the time or place to discuss it and since he had entrusted this aspect of Harry's care into her more than capable hands, he decided not to push the subject. The Gryffindor lived with him, after all, and as a Slytherin he had no qualms about stealthily testing the magic in their home; leaving Minerva and Albus none the wiser.

"I will make sure to get this to Alton," Albus continued, "where he can also review it in detail."

"Wait a minute," Harry interrupted, "why did Healer Smithe think my magic was declining last week if it doesn't appear like it is?"

The three adults looked between themselves deciding who would answer that very logical question.

As neither of his colleagues spoke up, Severus said, "Because we switched your file with one from a more advanced student. Compared to that file, as if it were your own from last year, your magic appears weaker. We will continue the subterfuge with Alton while he monitors you remotely, yet I don't see that lasting forever."

"But if he doesn't have any connection to Vold-" Severus had both noticed and appreciated Harry's recent change in using the Dark Lord's name, "you-know-who, why bother?"

"As you know Harry, one can never be too careful," Albus replied insightfully. "We need to prepare ourselves not only for the battle in front of us, but also try to anticipate what may be coming. There may come a time that Alton finds himself back in Lord Voldemort's presence and he cannot give up secrets - accidentally or intentionally - if he does not have them in the first place."

* * *

It didn't take someone as observant as Severus to know that the magical testing - specifically the dueling - had completely exhausted the Gryffindor. Once they made it back home, Harry had basically taken a shower and gone straight to bed. As Severus sat in the sitting room, there was something so familiar about the day; it was like this could have been a page pulled from his old reality. Leaning back against the tall backed armchair, he closed his eyes relishing in the quiet, hoping to Merlin it wasn't the calm before the storm.

Bringing him suddenly back to reality, his floo roared and Minerva stepped out.

"Haven't you heard of giving someone their privacy and at least announcing yourself before coming through?" He commented.

"Trust me Severus," his colleague lectured, "I am fully aware if you weren't expecting company then your floo would have been closed for visitors."

She was correct of course, yet Severus did not give her the satisfaction and instead smirked from his armchair.

"Shall we work here?" He asked. With a wave of his wand, the contents of the table before them vanished. The defense professor had no intention of moving to the office tonight, and so Minerva took a seat in Harry's usual spot on the sofa.

"I'm afraid I don't have much to report," she added, concerned. "There are few references to magical blocks that have the same characteristics as Harry is seeing. By that I mean the surges of powerful magic."

"He always was the exception to almost every rule," Severus commented in no way meaning any animosity. "Why should this be any different?"

"I'm sure there are plenty of effects we don't even know of yet caused by him surviving that killing curse," the elderly witch replied completely appalled.

 _You don't even know half of it_.

And yet that wasn't exactly fair to Minerva. As Harry's guardian, she really should be privy to the type of information such as Harry being a Horcrux for the Dark Lord's soul. He simply did not want to be the one to tell her and be witness to her reaction.

Pulling out his ebony wand, he summoned the two phials of black substance from his laboratory and handed one to Minerva.

"What is this, Severus?" She asked inquisitively.

"Harry has been vomiting this, in increasing quantities I might add, for the past several weeks. Sometime after the start of his consolidation phase." He could not remember the first time he'd seen it, however he knew at that time it was in a much smaller quantity then his latest round.

"Have you asked Albus? Assuming you've ruled out any biological cause, he may have a better insight into any magical cause for this." She handed the phial back, now as perplexed as he was.

Naturally, he should have discussed it with the headmaster, except he had hoped to read through the two texts from the Malfoy library beforehand. Draco had sent out his letter post haste as requested and he had yet to hear back. Severus assumed that with the Dark Lord living with Narcissa, the act of collecting said books and sending them - disguised, as even possessing these specific texts could reward the owner with time in Azkaban - to Hogwarts could prove to be quite difficult.

"I've been a bit... preoccupied this week," Severus explained.

"So I've heard from just about every one of my Gryffindors," the Transfiguration professor said. "My house happens to be down quite a significant amount of house points this week; even for you. Care to tell me the sudden change?"

"Not particularly," he looked away and glared toward the fireplace and the missing trinkets from his other life. "I was attempting to prove a point."

"Well I hope you've made it!"

Trying to get back on track with Harry and not linger in his odd - but apparently more normal - behavior, he summoned his notebook full of notes on Harry's magic. Using one of Harry's muggle pens for simplicity, he added the notes from the testing earlier.

"What are your thoughts on how tonight went?" He asked his colleague.

"Exceptionally well I would say," Minerva gave a proud smile. "I don't see much of any decline in his magical ability compared to last week, even after his reaction to the treatments last Saturday. Of course, we have too small of a sample to make any significant conclusions."

"Agreed," Severus nodded. He paused momentarily considering if he should continue in his train of thought.

"You might as well ask me, Severus," the witch beckoned, "I know you well enough to know you've got something on your mind."

The defense professor narrowed his eyes, "If this block exists, what would happen should it be removed? Is it additional pure untapped magic beneath?"

"As I previously mentioned, it has been suggested that those born without magic, especially to magical families, have a block upon their cores," Minerva explained leaning back and folding her hands across her lap, "there has not been any instances reported where a block has partially hidden a core - it's only been all of the core or none of it. There has, however, been one supposed case of the block being removed, turning a squib into a full magical witch."

That was certainly interesting to the professor.

"How was this 'block' removed?" He asked using air quotes since he was not positive he believed in such a theory anyway.

"Blood Magic, unfortunately," Minerva explained. "The story goes that an ancient ritual was performed using a willing sacrifice of familia blood."

"That sounds more like dark magic," Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"There is definitely a fine line between the two," Minerva agreed.

"And I take it the theory for muggleborns is a random removal of a magical block from earlier ancestry?"

The Transfiguration Professor nodded, "Something similar, yes."

The rest of his thoughts could not be shared out loud. What if the block in Harry's case was another magical soul, it was more than likely that the chemotherapy _could_ be siphoning away some of its power instead of Harry's, thus giving him access to the rest of his actual magical core. He though back to something Alton said during the interrogation -

_"I think he can tell Harry has had a difficult time with the side effects. I was called in after one particularly bad set and it appeared as if he were feeling like Harry. He was using an awful lot of different potions."_

If the Dark Lord was experiencing Harry's chemotherapy side effects, it was even more likely that the fragment of his soul was impacted by the medications somehow. Now he was really anxious to get his hands on those two books; until then this was all speculation. Thinking through everything, it would also be beneficial to pay a visit to Alton in the future so he could provide more details about that observation.

 _We were all a little distracted last weekend_.

"So then he could be doing accidental magic?" Severus asked, filling in the companionable silence that enveloped the two colleagues. "Basically it would be the rest of his untrained magic and, as the former squib would have done, he simply needs to learn to control it."

"That's assuming the muggle medications won't erase it as well once it becomes available," the Transfiguration professor sadly said. "Even though we're talking about a block now to explain these surges of strong magic, it does not change the fact that the medications will deplete his core no matter how much is available.

"Talking it through, if anything, it might possibly be better for the block to protect whatever magic is held beneath it. If the block could stay intact until closer to the end of treatment, maybe once it's finally gone Harry would still have whatever is left underneath. He would essentially start over as an untrained wizard, nevertheless that's definitely preferred to a squib. Of course, that's also assuming we had any control over this in the first place."

It was a unique viewpoint Severus could not ignore either. While he had no idea how to rid Harry of the piece of Voldemort's soul without killing Harry in the process - making this conversation a moot point to begin with - perhaps they did need to protect it so it could then protect his magic underneath.

This was definitely not a decision he could make alone and definitely not without Harry's input. Somehow this felt like they were going to be approaching another crossroads too similar to the potions versus chemotherapy one that plagued him almost daily. As everything seemed to go in this battle, things all of a sudden got a whole lot more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Dark Magic
> 
> Next update will likely be Monday or Tuesday at the latest.


	42. Dark Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has taken the time to review!

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus was drinking his morning coffee at the kitchen table while he read _The Principles and Practice of Pediatric Oncology_ to help familiarize himself with the next phase of Harry's treatment in preparation for this morning's discussion with Dr. Swanson. The professor had done his due diligence in a thorough background check of the muggle doctor, yet that didn't mean he would become complacent with Harry's care. So there he sat, just after dawn, making sure he knew what to expect in order to keep Harry as safe and as healthy as he could possibly be given what the young wizard was up against.

Suddenly, a piece of parchment appeared in front of his face with _Draco Malfoy_ written on it. Checking the time, it was early for even Draco to be up and moving - especially on a Saturday - he gave a low growl and abandoned his much needed coffee to proceed to the door with hope it was at least his books finally arriving.

"Morning, Severus," Draco said casually. He was wearing a set of black robes and in his hands was not a pair of old tomes as the professor expected, but instead what looked too much like a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. Nothing in his demeanor pointed towards there being an emergency within his house, causing the professor to question what could bring Draco by at this hour.

Curiously, the professor stepped aside to let his Slytherin into his quarters and they walked silently to Severus's office. Taking a seat behind his ornate desk, he held his hand to gesture for Draco to sit in the chair across from him.

"Care to tell me what brings you to my personal quarters so early this morning?"

Draco gave an annoyed expression and placed, or more accurately tossed, the folded newspaper he was holding in his hands onto the desk between them.

"My mother sent this to me today," he said, folding his arms across his chest, "with a note reminding me that she has a source within the _Daily Prophet_ and received this last night. Apparently she thought I'd find the front page story intriguing.

"Outside of the delicate subject matter, I assumed she'd hidden a message or something within it, but I couldn't find anything."

Narrowing his eyes in concentration, Severus unfolded the _Daily Prophet_ and immediately took notice of several key observations. First, it was indeed this morning's copy, meaning Narcissa had to have it in her possession last night in order to get it to Draco first thing today. Whoever she knew at the _Prophet_ was significant enough to be able to secure a copy of this nature the night prior to its release and provide it to her. Severus's own copy hadn't even arrived yet and he suspected once it did, there would be a lot of questions for him to answer to.

The second, and possibly more significant observation, did not take a keen eye to find. Slashed across the cover of the front page was a black and white photo of Harry taken sometime during his exam yesterday with Dr. Swanson. He was laying on his back in the bed with his jumper removed - displaying just how emaciated he had truly become - while Dr. Swanson was examining his port. His hat had been removed at this point of the exam, drawing more attention to the fact that he was ill, and clearly visible was his lightning bolt scar, as if mocking his identity to the whole wizarding world. A second, smaller photo was offset to the right taken during Harry's bone marrow biopsy, where the young wizard was lying away from the camera with Severus helping to hold him in place and his doctor could be seen taking the sample; the photograph alone looked painful. And of course, no good news article would be complete without an eye catching - though the photographs were definitely enough to catch anyone's eye - headline:

_Is the Boy-Who-Lived Going to Die?_

_An Exclusive by Rita Skeeter_

_Every great journalist knows that a picture is worth a thousand words and these two exclusive from inside the Hogwarts Hospital Wing certainly tell a story worth more than two-thousand. The entirety of the wizarding world, who have been patiently waiting to hear the next steps for our boy-savior in his battle against the recently returned He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, will be severely disappointed to see that their Savior is no more. It appears as if Harry Potter, most recently known as 'The Chosen One', will not be defeating any Dark Wizards in the near future._

_These pictures were taken only yesterday during a routine check-up for a fatal muggle illness the young wizard is currently suffering from. The disease in question - cancer - is said to be living within his blood and is slowly poisoning the teenage wizard. There is no official prognosis, however persons close to the situation have said he is unlikely to live much past the Christmas holiday._ Based _on witnesses within Hogwarts, Mr. Potter failed to show up on the Hogwarts Express on the first of September and has not attended classes since. He has only been seen briefly at the Gryffindor Quidditch trials about a fortnight ago and reports from that event tell me he was in no better condition than yesterday._

_Rumor has it that Mr. Potter has been residing in the castle with none other than Professor Severus Snape [pictured] since the death of his relatives back in July. Severus Snape was a documented Death Eater from the First Wizarding War, and while there have been many eye witness testimonies to his direct involvement with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, including the murder of at least a dozen muggles during the first war, he managed to escaped a lifetime sentence in Azkaban on the word of Albus Dumbledore. No one has ever discovered the reasoning behind why Albus Dumbledore has supported the hiring of a supposedly former Death Eater nor how he can now entrust the safety of such a prominent piece of the second war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to this dark wizard._

_Those closest to Professor Snape have described him as having a passion for the Dark Arts long before his Hogwarts days. While he had applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position every year, until this school year he had been consistently denied on the grounds that Headmaster Dumbledore refused to put him in a post that would encourage his dark hobbies; leaving him in the lonely position of Potions Master. What could Severus Snape have done to convince Albus Dumbledore to reverse his decision on placing such a flagitious man as the professor in teaching the next generation of wizards how to defend themselves from the dark magic he so desires?_

He didn't need to finish reading to know it only got worse from there. Giving the article a quick scan was enough to catch the words bone marrow, chemotherapy, hair loss, nausea, pneumonia, and - most significant of all - squib. This was not good on so many different levels.

Anger boiling up inside of him, Severus tossed the paper back onto his desk and demanded, "How the hell did she get this?"

"Like I said," Draco called out, "Mother has an acquaintance at the _Prophet_ and almost always gets her copy the night before, especially when something like this is written in it."

Severus gave a frustrated sigh as he rubbed his forehead, "Not your mother... Rita Skeeter!"

It had been a rhetorical question and therefore he was surprised when Draco actually answered with some significant information.

"Oh," the blonde said, a touch embarrassed for not following the professor's thought process the first time, "she's an unregistered animagus... a beetle to be exact; which is quite fitting for her."

_How many damn unregistered animagi are there?!_

It would be impossible to keep this quiet now and by breakfast - definitely by lunch - all of the student body would know the details of Harry's condition because for once in her life, the blasted woman actually got most of the information correct, with exception to his potential death by Christmas. Everyone in the castle was still asleep and here Severus already had a migraine starting. Continuing to rub the space between his eyebrows, he decided to table this issue until he had a chance to discuss it with Albus since there was not much they could do about in the meantime.

So instead, he shifted his focus to the blonde in front of him. Why did Narcissa send this to Draco when he asked for the two texts on Dark Magic?

Severus pointed his wand at the paper and whispered, " _Specialis Revelio_."

He couldn't hold back the smile at the sight in front of him. As he expected, two small rectangles appeared to the right of the large front picture, no bigger than his thumbnail. Both were stuck to the cover with a sticking charm that was easy enough to remove, and with a quick " _Engorgio_ " he held in his hands the two books he was most interested to read. He'd always thought in another lifetime Narcissa and Lily would have gotten along quite well with their shared interest and talent in Charms.

"I did try that spell you know," Draco eventually spoke up self-consciously. " _That_ did not happen."

"It is a difficult spell to master," the professor reassured his protégé. "Thank you for this by the way; the tomes and the _Prophet_."

"He's going to flip out, isn't he?"

Severus grimaced at the casual language from the normally formal teenager in front of him, "If you mean Harry; yes he will be extremely distraught by this."

"Is that his new doctor?" Draco leaned forward and pointed at the back of Dr. Swanson, who was luckily always facing away from the camera therefore hiding her face, "Think she had anything to do with it?"

"As a muggle it's doubtful," he responded. "This has Skeeter written all over it... Quite literally.

"Please do not say a word to Harry until I have a chance to address the situation with the headmaster."

Draco gave a smirk, "Not a problem there, Severus, I don't envy you for having to be the one to break the news to him."

~~~~HP~~~~

The rain was beating down against the enchanted window intriguing Harry on how real the picture behind the window was. He'd assumed it was simply a projection of a specific location outside, however with the rain coming down as hard as it was, he could hear what sounded like rain droplets slamming against glass. Lifting a tentative hand, he placed his entire palm on the window and pulled it back quickly when he was met with the same cold he would get from the windows up in the tower. To the young wizard, magic really was the best thing in the world and he felt a sorrow deep within him at the thought that he might not get to live in the magical world.

 _Don't think like that!_ He scolded himself, _your magic might be getting stronger!_

Since he showered the night before, there wasn't much else he needed to do to get ready before chemotherapy besides brush his teeth. Once that simple task was completed, the Gryffindor made his way quietly to the kitchen where he heard Snape up and about already. The moment he walked to the kitchen he could feel the tension emanating from the professor and he stood in the doorway unsure if he wanted to enter.

"What happened?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," _at the present moment_ was left unsaid between them.

"Is it bad?" Harry asked, sitting down at his usual spot at the table. For his breakfast, in addition to his normal porridge, there was a smoothie sitting between the bowl and the small cup of his morning medications, bringing him back to the conversation he'd had with Dr. Meghan about his weight. A scowl crossed his face at just the memory of the muggle physician.

"No," Snape said quickly, giving Harry the impression that he was lying. "We'll discuss it later.

"Madam Pomfrey will be here any minute for your blood sample and she'll get you started on the new antiemetic," Snape explained confidently.

"There's only two weeks left," Harry said, taking a large sip of his smoothie after deciding that he was not going to get the information any sooner than when Snape wanted to share it with him.

"And we still have a lot to do until then," Snape said, sitting in the chair next to Harry's. "I'd like you to make a list of anything you may need for classes, and I have a feeling you need some updated uniforms and robes."

Harry nodded, "You mean like quills and parchment and stuff?"

"Yes," Snape confirmed, "like those kinds of things."

Harry felt himself flush as he thought about things he needed, "I need a new toothbrush."

Snape nodded, "I'll be heading to the pharmacy during the week to refill your medications and will pick one up then. Will that suffice?"

"Of course," the Gryffindor said as a piece of parchment popped up in front of Snape.

"That's odd," Snape said, standing up to exit the kitchen, most likely to answer the door.

Harry pulled the parchment over to him and saw _Poppy Pomfrey_ written in a neat script. He took one last sip of his smoothie and got up to go to the sitting room; it was time to start.

"Your floo was closed, Severus," the medi-witch lectured. "I couldn't even firecall you."

"My apologies," Snape replied, welcoming her into their quarters, "I had a small distraction this morning."

_So something did happen this morning!_

Madam Pomfrey huffed and walked passed Snape, into the sitting room with Harry.

"Good Morning, Mr. Potter!" She greeted almost too cheerfully this morning. "Are you all set? Have you eaten breakfast?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied holding up his smoothie. The new additions to them made him feel fuller than before, so he was hoping he didn't need to finish the whole thing.

"Wonderful," the medi-witch placed the blood collection tubes onto the table in front of him as she prepared to take the samples. "As we've mentioned many, many times already, I'll be collecting the blood sample and then setting you up with the antiemetic. While that drips, I'll be taking your sample back to the hospital where Dr. Swanson will run the tests and, assuming it looks alright, she'll accompany me back to Hogwarts to do your IT as well the one-hour today. Do you have any questions?"

Harry had a lot of questions running through his mind right now, none of them pertaining to what the medi-witch had just gone through, so he shook his head.

Madam Pomfrey had been correct when she told him last week that running the blood count test using muggle methods wouldn't take any extra time. She was back with Dr. Meghan before the antiemetic medication had finished. Once they returned, Snape transfigured the sofa into an exam table so they would be able to do the IT chemo first and the doctor didn't even blink at the sudden change.

"Good Morning, Harry," Dr. Meghan said announcing their arrival back.

"Morning," the Gryffindor said, "I take it everything looked alright?"

"Yes it did," Dr. Meghan replied, "Let's get the IT done and then we'll talk about the next phase coming up."

Harry was so excited about getting this phase done and behind him that he was almost able to sit completely still for the IT this time. Most of the twenty minutes laying flat on his back was spent thinking about what Snape had mentioned at breakfast; needing a list of things Harry might need for classes coming up. It was always something he needed to do for himself and now with only his last two years left he actually had someone who wanted to help him with that stuff... the kind of stuff a parent thinks about before their child goes off to school. He wanted to ask Snape if they used to go school shopping together in the old reality, however with Madam Pomfrey and Dr. Meghan in the room, he couldn't.

The time seemed to drag on until he could move again and the IV was set in his port with his one hour chemotherapy medication. With this medication, the nausea generally didn't hit him until a couple of hours afterwards which gave them time to discuss the next phase. The Gryffindor did not hide his surprise when Dumbledore and McGonagall joined them shortly after his port was set, forgetting briefly that they had been involved in the previous conversations.

"How are you doing today, Harry?" Professor McGonagall asked, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze. Harry got the impression that she knew whatever it was that Snape didn't want to tell him. In fact, looking around at Dumbledore, all the adults - Dr. Meghan excluded - must have known about whatever had happened.

"I'm actually doing really well this morning," he said honestly; with any luck if he sounded extra happy maybe he could convince them to tell him about whatever had happened.

Instead, Professor McGonagall patted his shoulder and conjured up two chairs that were placed directly in front of the sofa. Harry was sitting on the sofa as usual with Snape in his normal armchair to his left and McGonagall on the sofa next to him. Across from Snape in the other armchair sat Dumbledore, dressed in bright yellow robes that were almost blinding. Harry found himself questioning silently if the headmaster intentionally tried to find robes as far opposite for the day, which would explain why he was dressed like the sun on a day as dreary as this one. In the two new chairs sat Madam Pomfrey - ready to go with a set of parchment - and Dr. Meghan who currently held everyone's attention.

"So Harry," the muggle doctor started, "I've reviewed everything from yesterday, including the blood samples and the bone marrow biopsy I took, and so far everything is looking great. You'll have one more treatment next Saturday and since your samples came back clear, we'll move onto phase two of consolidation on the 25th."

"Thank Merlin," Harry said, "this phase has felt so long."

Dr. Meghan gave a small laugh, "This is definitely a difficult one, but the next phase is unfortunately longer than this one was. Phase two of consolidation, also called Interim Maintenance, will last a total of 12 weeks. If everything goes as planned, it will start on the 25th of this month and it will end by mid-January."

The doctor paused, to which Harry was grateful because he needed a minute to fully understand. That was a long time, making how long this whole process was all the more real. He had years of this... If everything went well, he would have over three years all together of chemotherapy and he'd only done three months so far. That was almost nothing compared to what he had left to do. And what would happen when he no longer lived at Hogwarts? When he hopefully had his own flat while in the Auror program?

"It won't all be as difficult as these first three months," Dr. Meghan said, picking up on Harry's consternation. "It will get easier, I promise you. Maintenance, which should start in the spring, is usually so simple in comparison the biggest issue we have is patients remembering to get their treatments as they simply forget while living their lives as normal. Now, that's extremely dangerous because there's a very high risk of the Leukemia returning if maintenance isn't completely finished."

The young wizard felt himself nodding and yet he didn't think he could actually repeat what she'd told him if anyone asked.

"As I was saying," the doctor continued handing out another set of papers to everyone in a similar fashion as Healer Smithe used to do, "We have your Interim Maintenance, lasting 12 total weeks. Unlike Phase one of consolidation, though, you won't be doing weekly IV treatments; instead they'll be about every ten days plus it's only the medications you've not had the volatile reaction to. I'm hopeful you'll find this one much easier on your body. You also will not be taking the chemotherapy tablets anymore, but you will stay on the prophylactic medications like the antibiotics, antivirals, etcetera."

Harry saw Snape flip over the schedule and when he did the same, saw on the back was a list of all the medications - over the counter and prescriptions - he was still needing to take.

"Now you're probably wondering what the schedule is," Dr. Meghan pointed to the sheet of paper in his hand full of dates and codes, "It's a bit more complicated than you're used to. Every ten days you'll do two medications by IV, every 20 days you'll get one medication by IV, and then every 30 days you'll do an IT.

"The 10 and 20 day IVs will be staggered, because those medications cannot be taken on the same day, so they will be done on two days back to back. Which means every other 10 day IV will be followed by another IV day. And every three of the first IV's will also have an IT done beforehand.

"Good news is that each IV, even the days you have two medications, are only two hours total. Given early enough and depending on how long your recovery time is, you won't lose much time in your classes."

At this point, the doctor paused again while all the people in the room tried to take in what she'd told them. Harry really tried hard to understand the schedule. Being every ten days instead of weekly, meant that he would inevitably have to do treatments during the week; sometimes two days if it was the back-to-back treatment week. That definitely complicated the schedule, but if it meant he might feel more like himself between treatments it would be worth it.

"Did that make sense Harry?" It was Snape that asked him this time.

"Erm... Kind of."

"We'll take it a couple of weeks at a time until you get the hang of it," Snape said and Harry found himself feeling grateful to have the professor here helping through all of this.

"Thank you sir," the young wizard replied. His eyes scanned over the dates and nothing jumped out until near the end. "I'm going to have chemo on Christmas Eve and Christmas day?!"

He knew it was petty, but something about those two days being tainted by treatments felt wrong to him.

"Assuming everything stays on schedule," Dr. Meghan explained sympathetically, "which we want, then yes you will. Do you have any other questions?"

There wasn't anything he could do about the schedule, so the Gryffindor decided to try to keep a good attitude about it. He then turned back to his doctor and asked, "What about the side effects?"

"The same you've been experiencing now as they're all medications you've had before," she replied before counting off the list he gave her yesterday: "Nausea, vomiting, general pain, tingling in your hands or feet, mouth sores, and diarrhea or constipation.

"While this can have an adverse effect on your blood counts - lower red and white cells, and platelets - generally speaking the extra days between treatments provide enough time for them to rebound so it's not compounding like you saw in intensive and the first phase of consolidation. All of that means you'll very likely be able to return to classes with little issues as long as you continue to stay cautious and diligent with hand washing and such, especially in the couple of days after treatments."

"So there won't be any issues with starting on the 28th?" Harry asked hopefully.

"That depends," The doctor was talking to Snape and McGonagall now, "technically, his last chemo for this phase is on Saturday the 19th, and assuming his blood counts continue to look positive on that day, I don't see any reason why he can't return on the 21st."

"Yes!" Harry immediately called out. Why wouldn't he do that?

"Remember, your first treatment for phase two will fall on a Friday followed by another Saturday, so you would miss that day," Dr. Meghan was smiling at the young wizard's reaction. "If you'd rather wait for a full week to return, then you should wait until the 28th, which is what I'm guessing Healer Smithe was waiting for."

"If I may," McGonagall spoke up, "it might be best for Harry to return on a partial week, perhaps Tuesday to Thursday before going the full week."

"We'll discuss in the upcoming week," Snape added sternly, "on an arrangement that we're all comfortable with, including you Harry."

"Thank you both," Harry replied.

Dumbledore finally spoke up for the first time, "Minerva, if you could please let me know as soon as you decide so I can make sure his professors are prepared. We'll also need to discuss the additional tutoring and other pertinent accommodations."

"Of course, Albus," McGonagall responded solemnly.

Now Harry knew, for sure, something was going on. Dumbledore had always been a bit formal, but this was almost _too formal_. Adding to that was the fact that the elderly wizard had hardly paid attention to Harry, which made the young Gryffindor feel reminiscent of last year. Did it have something to do with Voldemort again?

* * *

By mid-afternoon, Harry had spent most of the day on the sofa sketching between the rounds of nausea. He was working on a picture of himself and Snape standing on a sandy beach watching the waves of the sea breaking across the tops of their feet. Back when Snape first told the Gryffindor about the old reality and his old life, he said that they'd visited the sea and it was one of _that Harry's_ favorite places. Since Harry had never actually been to a beach before, he had closed his eyes and tried to imagine what it would look like. Obviously he'd seen them in books and the telly, but he wanted to immerse himself in the senses; to feel the warm sand between his toes contrasted by the incoming cool sea water almost in cadence with the Earth's breathing. It was calming for Harry to think about what a trip to the beach would have been like with Snape.

Spending the day on the sofa meant he was able to see exactly what was going on around him. As usual with his chemo days, Snape spent most of the day home, but he had meetings with McGonagall and Dumbledore - both separately and all together - throughout the morning and early afternoon. Curious to see if he could manage to get any pieces of the mystery, the Gryffindor decided to stay put, even if that meant using the pail he hated to vomit in, because at some point he was sure they'd say something. As Snape wasn't one to accidentally slip up though, Harry was left uncomfortable and miserable by dinnertime without getting any closer to the answers.

The professor was now seated in the sitting room pouring over another set of large, extremely old looking books, and writing feverishly into his notebook. If nothing else, during this time Harry had learned his note taking had been seriously lacking because he never wrote as much as Snape was doing whenever he was reading through his textbooks.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" Harry asked after a particularly bad round of nausea.

"I take it the new medication hasn't been any more effective?" The professor asked not even hiding the attempted distraction from Harry's original question.

"No, not really," Harry answered, "but that wasn't what I asked you. I can tell something happened and if you don't tell me I'm sure I can come up with something on my own. The only question is if whatever I'm thinking is better or worse than the actual news."

"So you're basically going to emotionally blackmail me? The head of Slytherin?"

"More or less," Harry said already knowing it was a bad idea; it was impossible to out-Slytherin Severus Snape. When the professor didn't take the bait, Harry tried a different method, "Did someone die?"

"No," the professor said quickly, allowing Harry to trust that at least his friends were physically alright.

"Ok, does it have to do with my magic?"

"No," Snape replied, but with that one Harry couldn't tell if it was true or not.

"What are you working on?" The young wizard decided to try for a different tactic to get the information. "Those books look like they have to be at least a hundred years old."

Closing the book, not so coincidentally so that Harry could not see the title, Snape narrowed his eyes at the Gryffindor, "More likely close to three hundred years, but I do get the point. I am hoping to find an answer to explain the black substance you are expelling from your body."

Said that like, it was extremely disgusting and Harry felt his stomach churn at the thought. Today's vomiting had not seen any difference in the amount of the black substance. Of course he recognized all of this was simply Snape trying yet again to distract Harry from the original question.

_So whatever's going on, it's worse than the black stuff._

A pregnant silence enveloped the two residents as neither wanted to give into their desire - Harry to know what Snape was hiding and Snape to keep Harry's morale as high as possible.

"I've previously told you that you do better with more information, so here," Snape pulled what looked like a folded up copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from the back of his ancient text and held it out for Harry.

Now that it was being offered, the young wizard wasn't so sure he wanted to open the Pandora's box in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and grabbed the paper instantly regretting it the moment he unfolded it and saw the pictures, front and center.

"You have got to be kidding me," Harry said, more astonished than angry. "How did she-"

"Apparently she's an animagus," Snape interrupted.

"Yeah, I know. Didn't take her long to go back to writing her rubbish," the Gryffindor replied, his eyes quickly scanning the article that accompanied the images of him.

"How is it that you and Draco both seem to know this fact about Ms. Skeeter and yet neither of you thought it was pertinent information to share with a professor?"

"Wait a second," Harry said even more disconcerted, "Malfoy saw this?!"

"Unfortunately it was he who brought it to my attention," Snape said, far too business-like for Harry's preference.

Ignoring the compliment to Malfoy, Harry continued to read the article taking note of two important facts - that somehow Rita Skeeter managed to get most of the facts about his Leukemia correct and that she made Snape sound like any moment he could turn on all the students, mostly Harry, with his vast knowledge of dark magic. This thought brought Harry back to the conversation with Malfoy at their Thursday tutoring; _could Snape be getting back into the dark arts?_ Trying to be sly about it, Harry looked up at the book the professor had been pouring over anytime he wasn't with McGonagall or Dumbledore.

 _You can't trust a single thing from the likes of Skeeter_ , he reminded himself. _Her animagus should have been a cockroach!_

"She's making you out like you're completely unfit to be around children."

"More specifically you," Snape added the obvious observation.

"What do you think it means?" Harry asked panicking, "Can she really lobby the wizarding community against you? Can they force me to move?!"

"Calm down," the former spy steepled his fingers as he leaned closer to Harry. "Albus already anticipated something like this happening, which is one of the reasons why Minerva is your guardian. She gets to have the final word over where you live while in the castle.

"The absolute worst that can happen from this, in regards to your living situation, is that my medical proxy rights over you will be rescinded. If that should occur, Minerva would naturally take over that aspect of your care on paper, however she has assured me that nothing would change in practice."

To Harry it sounded like they had this all planned out, which made sense given their clandestine meetings throughout the day. For once it felt good that he didn't need to have to have the answers to everything; he got to be the teenager and trusted Snape wouldn't intentionally let anything bad happen to him if the professor could prevent it. It was so simple and yet something he'd never had before - at least not from another adult in his life - and he was eternally grateful for whatever had happened that got them to this point.

"Th-"

"Do not thank me," Snape interrupted before the first word had even left his mouth, "it is what any child is entitled to have. It angers me that this is even necessary for us to discuss."

"Comes with the territory," the young wizard shrugged, "I'm used to it. It wasn't like the whole school didn't already know about the Leukemia, now the rest of the wizarding world knows... Or those who still read and trust the _Daily Prophet_."

"That's a great attitude to have about it all," the professor went back to his book.

"Do you think it was Dr. Meghan?"

"That's a logical assumption," Snape said raising his head slightly to address Harry's question, "however I know for a fact that she did not know your identity until Madam Pomfrey went to pick her up on Friday before your exam, and by then this had to be set up already."

That was a good point, but it still didn't change Harry's opinion on Dr. Meghan. He was being honest that what had been written about him didn't bother him nearly as much as Snape thought it would. What bothered Harry was everything she wrote about Snape. A year ago he would have agreed with all of it, yet now it infuriated him. Snape had done so much good for him in such a short time, and even more if you counted his time as a spy. Hopefully this wouldn't turn into a big deal and eventually everyone would forget about it. The two wizards didn't get a chance to discuss the _Prophet_ article any further because it wasn't long before Harry ended up too sick for the rest of the night.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus was beyond surprised by Harry's mature reaction to Rita Skeeter's article in the _Daily Prophet_ yesterday. Even the Harry from his old reality would have probably had a fit over the invasion of their privacy. In hindsight, the old Harry didn't have to go through the year of slander that this Harry went through last year, plus back in his old reality most people were still a bit terrified to cross paths with the former Death Eater as Harry's father. Unfortunately, now that designation was going to hurt Harry rather than aid him.

No matter what fall-out came from the ill-timed article, Severus was determined to handle it. Therefore, most of yesterday morning - when he was not helping Harry - had been spent with Albus and Minerva working on their short and long term damage control on all of this. Albus was going to verify that there was no possibility of Harry being removed from Minerva's care and taken under Ministry control. Severus didn't know if the Dark Lord had any personnel in the Department of Children's Services, but he knew without a doubt he had Death Eaters in other departments of the Ministry and Harry absolutely could not fall under their control. Albus was also responsible for the official internal communication to the Heads of Houses - primarily Pomona and Filius - on how to handle students' questions and comments. Unfortunately, given Harry's rough night after chemotherapy yesterday, Severus had not gotten the chance to sit down with his students and would have to prioritize that for later today.

Minerva's role from all their meetings yesterday had nothing to do with the _Daily Prophet_ article, but instead on getting a plan of action together for Harry's return to classes. Now that the Gryffindor wizard had heard he could possibly go back to class a week early, he knew he wouldn't hear the end of it until they had a solid plan to offer to him. She would take into account his academic levels for each of his courses as well as a schedule that would allow him to ease back into classes. No matter what Harry thought he could do, Severus doubted he'd have the energy to attend classes full-time from the beginning. Realistically, he would need to do partial days and continue tutoring at least for the first several weeks. While Minerva offered to replenish anything Harry may need for classes, Severus insisted that he would take care of any supplies and uniforms Harry might need all the while, trying his hardest to ignore the sentimental glare from the witch.

Once all of the planning from the Prophet article and Harry's return to classes was completed, Severus was able to have the much needed meeting with Albus alone to discuss the black substance and how it could possibly relate to the soul fragment. Severus summarized their previous theory that the piece of Voldemort's soul had basically blocked out a portion of Harry's inherent magical core - which explained why his magic was not able to prevent the Leukemia in the first place - and now the chemotherapy effects were breaking down the magic that resided in the piece of Voldemort's soul. This was then leaving gaps between Harry's trained magic and the untrained magic that can now be used. Simply speaking, Harry was getting access to raw, previously suppressed magic which was presenting as very powerful accidental-type magic.

Before continuing, Severus pulled out the two phials of black that he collected last week. Now that he had the texts he needed, it was time to bring Albus into the loop and discuss the idea that had been eating away at Severus's mind since Minerva suggested it.

"Did I not tell you I would take over for this last week?" Albus had told him. "I should not have expected anything different from you, my boy."

"What if the soul fragment is _protecting_ his magic underneath?" Severus hypothesized out loud, ignoring the headmaster's comment. "After speaking with Minerva, the way I see it we have two viable options on the table...

"The first is, as the magic within the soul fragment is getting broken up from the chemotherapy, we can start training Harry on using the new raw magic underneath as it's combined with his regular magical core; he'll then be much more powerful overall. However, with a full core we run the significant risk of the chemotherapy taking all of it away; the soul fragment's magic - though unfortunately not releasing the actual soul as it would most likely become a magicless soul piece - Harry's normal magic, and Harry's newly connected unintentional magic.

"The second, and much more radical option, would be to protect the soul fragment's magic and target the chemotherapy to pull from his regular magic instead. Then once he's through with the chemotherapy, we remove the soul fragment - which we still need to figure out how to safely do - and that would leave Harry with another set of untouched, raw magic underneath. He'd have to relearn everything all over again, but I honestly believe what's underneath the soul fragment is more powerful than his current core, so he'd be better off than now, though not as powerful as if he could combine his split core."

Albus had contemplated the two ideas for longer than Severus would have assumed necessary.

"Do you have any ideas of how to make sure the chemotherapy would not feed off the soul fragment?" Albus finally asked. "Should we choose to preserve it?"

"My hypothesis is that his body is using whichever reservoir of magic it deems the strongest to help try to heal him," he had explained, "at this point it's using the soul fragment, even though it's buried further down, since he's not using any of his core magic in an effort to preserve it, thus it's actually making the soul piece appear as the most viable option.

"If he were to start using his core magic again, even a little, his body might shift to use _that magic_ first, leaving the soul fragment intact for now. Once his core magic was depleted, it would then feed off the soul fragment and hopefully before that magic was gone he'd be done with chemotherapy, leaving him the protected core to retrain and continue to use."

"That's a big risk when we cannot know for certain that a piece of Voldemort's soul lives within Harry," the headmaster had logically countered with. "Without any proof, we run the risk of unnecessarily killing Harry's entire magical core."

"I'm going to attempt to confirm that Harry is acting as a Horcrux and that this-," he had explained to Albus holding up the phials, "is a physical manifestation of the Dark Lord's soul or at least the dark magic within it."

"And how do you plan to accomplish that, Severus?"

For a split second, the younger wizard had considered lying to his mentor. While Albus would agree that drastic measures are sometimes needed in times like this, the defense professor briefly thought it might be better for Albus to remain blissfully ignorant. In the end, he decided Albus needed to know all the cards in their hand in order to best help protect Harry.

"With a very old potions theory that, more or less, will identify if a magical signature is present within it," he said as casually as possible so as not to draw unwanted attention to the mechanics behind the process.

"If I remember my Magical Theory correctly," Albus replied, "I must assume a fair amount of dark magic is required?"

"For this process... maybe," Severus replied honestly, "it would depend on how one defines 'fair amount'."

"Semantics, my boy," Albus nodded with a twinkle in his eyes, "How long until you know?"

"I'm not completely certain yet, but my high level estimate is a month, perhaps a little longer."

At that point yesterday, he hadn't had enough time to dive into the texts to find the exact procedure he would need to follow, however he did know it would require at least one full moon - the werewolf hair would be easy enough to obtain with a simple request sent with Lupin's monthly Wolfsbane potion - which was not expected until the end of this month. Now that he had spent most of the night pouring through the tomes, he knew it would take at least six weeks, and that was assuming he did it correctly the first time. It was a complex procedure even for him with an even more complex set of ingredients he either didn't have on hand and, even worse, at least one - specifically the Chimera Scales - he would need to get off the black market, but that wasn't needed until at least halfway through the process so he could table that for now.

That had all occurred yesterday prior to his conversation with Harry about Rita Skeeter's article and before Harry was sick from the chemotherapy throughout the night.

Having spent most of the day finishing his study of the texts, now he sat in his office with a glass of firewhiskey writing out his plan to confirm the soul fragment. It would start with a trip to Knockturn Alley - which could be easily accomplished by going to Diagon Alley for Harry's school supplies instead of Hogsmeade - in hopes of securing the more restricted ingredients for the potion. That alone came with a higher than normal level of risk as his old contacts had most likely heard of his change of loyalty. Then he'd need to start the actual brewing process. After compiling all his notes, he determined the process had to be so precise, he intended to ask Albus's permission to allow Draco to assist him with it. After all, an extra set of hands and eyes never hurt when dealing with a potion such as this, especially when those hands and eyes also have unique access to help secure a specific rare ingredient with the proper documentation.

The professor took a small sip of the firewhiskey from his glass, feeling the warm alcohol smoothly slide down his throat, proud to have at least the start of a solid plan to get this going quickly. He paused with his quill floating over the parchment with his semi-illegal "shopping list" - giant splotches of black ink pooled across the list - when a horrific thought popped into his mind. It came upon him so suddenly, he hadn't come even close to mentally preparing himself for this type of revelation his brain had somehow made.

"He didn't have to die," Severus said out loud to no one as if stating it like that would somehow rid it from his subconsciousness forever.

It was a truth that was almost suffocating the second he thought it. His old Harry - his son - must have been a Horcrux too, and logically that meant he had this same piece of Voldemort protecting a significant part of his own magical core. Had they known there was a possibility to protect the part of Harry's hidden magical core, his son may have chosen chemotherapy all along. With a trembling hand he dropped the quill and shot back the last of the firewhiskey before cradling his head into his hands.

The sudden grief completely crashed over him like a black tidal wave as he began to mourn the loss of his son yet again. Lately, he had noticed the times of grief had gotten better in the past several weeks as he found himself comparing this Harry and his old Harry less and less, but now that he knew there had been a way - also secretly hidden within the teenager - to have prevented the dreadful crossroad to begin with, it was almost crushing to his soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Getting Ready
> 
> Next update will probably be on Wednesday or Thursday
> 
> A/N: I tried my hardest to put into words the ALL chemotherapy regimen I've been using for this fic, however I found it easier for this phase (at least for me since it's not weekly) to have the dates all written out. I've posted a pic of what Harry's schedule would look like (remember the year is 1996-1997) for the next 12 weeks. Here's how to find it: (remove spaces)
> 
> flic . kr / p / 2jkkAep
> 
> Or
> 
> Flickr photos / 188921175 N03 / albums / 72157715068120567 /


	43. Getting Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left a review! With so much going on with the Magical Theory, I'm happy I haven't confused anyone yet. It will start to play a big role as we lead into the next several chapters, so you'll be hearing the information told in many different ways as Snape starts working through the puzzle.
> 
> Disclaimer: This chapter talks about a made up wizarding drug that is the equivalent to Marijuana. If it makes you uncomfortable, you can skip the end of the AU memory.

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_As he got dressed that evening in the comfort of his home on Spinner's End, Severus had the realization that somehow it seemed every year he had been required to wear his set of dress robes, mostly against his will. It started with the adoption - the only real time it was voluntary - then the Yule Ball, Petunia Dursley's funeral where they were transfigured into a muggle suit, and now the damn Christmas Party the Malfoy's were hosting that he agreed to attend against his better judgement._

_He wasn't completely surprised when the invitation arrived by owl last month since Narcissa had mentioned wanting to invite him when they ran into each other at the Apothecary right before Halloween. Severus had been there to pick up his latest order for Harry's newest potions regimen, which would have been a perfect excuse to deny the invitation - on the grounds that Harry wasn't feeling well - except this latest round seemed to be doing the best job of all at ridding the Leukemia from the Gryffindor's blood. If nothing else, the party would be a good distraction from the chaos of their life lately._

_"Why do I have to go again?" Harry complained as he walked into Severus's bedroom, appropriately dressed in a new set of navy blue dress robes. Naturally, the young wizard had outgrown the green set from the Yule Ball two years ago and tried his hardest to convince Severus that was the reason he would not be able to attend the party tonight. To rectify the situation, Severus purchased the new pair and surprised him with them last night when they returned home for the holiday._

_"It's good manners to attend a party you're invited to if you have no acceptable reason to decline," the professor formally replied._

_"So, in other words you couldn't think of an acceptable reason to get us out of it," Harry said, shaking his head as Severus clumsily tied his white tie. "And if you have to suffer through it, you're going to make me."_

_"Precisely."_

_A companionable silence came over the father and son as the Potion Master finished getting ready._

_"He hates me, dad," the Gryffindor said quietly._

_There was no reason to sugarcoat or deny that fact. It was true; Draco and Harry had never been able to get past their mutual animosity towards each other and this year had definitely not helped that situation. Harry had a rough start to the school year as he'd adjusted to the potions that sometimes made him forget simple things and Draco - alongside Crabbe and Goyle - took advantage of it. Harry's reaction had since improved and he no longer had those issues, however that did not necessarily stop the taunting he received. What finally ended the incessant ridicule was at the first Quidditch match where Harry, as Quidditch captain, out flew every Slytherin on the pitch and caught the Snitch right out from under Draco. Severus tried hard not to show favoritism to Harry over his own house - the Gryffindor had Minerva for that - however even he had to admit the blonde deserved that one._

_"All I ask is that you behave yourself," he lectured his son while trying in vain to tame the sixteen year old's messy black hair. "Regardless of whatever Draco says or does tonight, you are in control of your own actions and reactions, and I expect both of those to be appropriate for the occasion. That means your utmost best behavior."_

_The professor knew he was asking a lot from the Gryffindor. Overall, he'd had very few disciplinary issues with the teen, except when he did, it usually involved Draco or some combinations of his Slytherins. It was a battle they had fought since day one._

_"I will," the young wizard eventually promised, albeit more grudgingly than Severus would have liked._

_"Good, now go take your evening potions so we can go," the Potion's Master said before they made their way downstairs to floo to Malfoy Manor._

_Overall the night had been quite pleasant, an observation that greatly surprised Severus. Narcissa outdid herself with the extravagant decor and impeccable food, but the best part of the night was that Harry appeared to be having a good time as well. The Gryffindor had found some former classmates in attendance that had recently graduated and now worked at the Ministry where they'd met Lucius. The Potion's Master assumed they were in attendance as a way to further their careers, yet at that moment no one really cared. Everyone was overwhelmed with the holiday spirit and Narcissa made sure no one was discussing a gram of work. All Severus was concerned with was that Harry stayed occupied away from Draco and the other Slytherins that were inevitably there._

_It was approaching midnight, and most of the guests had already left, when Severus found himself having a glass of firewhiskey with Lucius tucked away in the library. They both sat in silence across from one another in the dark red leather chairs surrounded by bookcases that reached the ceiling high above his head. The professor loved the smell of old tomes and the Malfoy library was one of the oldest in wizarding history, making him feel more comfortable than he would have elsewhere in the Manor._

_He had tried his hardest to avoid being left alone with the Malfoy patriarch because he feared the conversation would take a turn towards the Dark Lord and Death Eater activity. He knew that over the years, several of his former associates had been listening and searching for signs of the dark wizard and the rumors had always come back to the Malfoys. So the professor was pleasantly surprised when the conversation started as far away from the Dark Lord as possible._

_"How is fatherhood treating you, Severus?" Lucius asked, raising his glass as if to toast themselves, "because sixteen is almost unbearable to me. I swear Draco is testing his limits every time he comes home."_

_Severus doubted they had anything in common in how they raised their boys, but it was a far better conversation topic than where he thought this would be heading._

_"It's been a rough year for us," he honestly answered._

_The blonde's eyebrows lifted when he recognized Severus's meaning._

_"Oh shite," Lucius exclaimed and covered his mouth with his pale hand, "I'm sorry, I just… I didn't think. How is he?"_

_Severus was used to that reaction; it was always what people asked him. They hadn't been able to keep Harry's diagnosis a secret, not when a case like his was so rare in the wizarding world and the young wizard also happened to be The-Boy-Who-Lived. It was like Harry just wasn't able to catch a break._

_"This latest round of potions seems to be helping," the professor replied. "He had a checkup earlier this month and so far it's looking positive."_

_"Keeps you busy, I'm sure."_

_"You have no idea," the Potion's Master replied as they both fell into silence._

_"Have the healers any idea of how he could have ended up with a muggle disease? What's it call-"_

_"Leukemia," Severus interrupted, "and no they don't know and frankly, I don't care to know. I just want it gone."_

_Lucius nodded his head, then stood and walked over to one of the plentiful bookcases; this one was in the far, dark corner of the room, and he opened a disguised drawer. The wizard came back carrying two large, extremely ancient looking texts that he offered to the Potion's Master. While Severus didn't recognize either one, it was clear that they both dealt with the Dark Arts - a fact that surprised the professor as he thought he had known most of the famous texts on the Dark Arts._

_"No," Severus simply stated, handing them back to his acquaintance, "I don't care what answers you think are in these, I'm not going down the road of dark magic."_

_"They may help you find an alternative solution for your son," he emphasized the last two words and then laid the books down on the table between them. "If I were in your position, I would do almost anything to help my Dragon."_

_"Don't you dare!" Severus bellowed slamming his glass on the table next to the forbidden books, "I am doing everything in my power to help him and forgive me if I don't want to meddle in something that could land me in Azkaban, which is exactly what having those texts in my possession would do."_

_"Forgive me," the blonde said sitting back down across from his friend. "I only-"_

_He was interrupted yet again when a small house elf popped in between the men. She was an older looking elf, likely one that had been with the Malfoy family for generations. She was wearing a dirty tea towel, something Severus hated to see, with her big ears and eyes lowered to the ground before her master._

_"Sinsey?" Lucius asked, confused by the interruption. "Is Draco alright?"_

_"Sinsey is sorry, Master," the small elf exclaimed, "Young Master Malfoy is in trouble along with Young Harry Potter-Snape, sir. They be out in the back gardens, sirs."_

_Both wizards looked at each other, not able to hide their state of alarm. If Harry and Draco were together, it absolutely could not end well. Severus had images of both teens mid-muggle fight out in the cold, snowy garden. The fathers rushed out of the library and down the heavily decorated corridors until they came to the glass doors that separated the house from the back gardens. Almost out of breath, Severus pulled the doors open and stopped so quickly, Lucius almost fell into him from behind._

_Laughter. It was the absolute last thing he expected to hear coming from the gardens that contained these two teenage boys that were sworn mortal enemies. Or at least he'd thought they were. Slipping into his former spy mode, he motioned for Lucius to keep quiet as they slowly approached the two teens, using a non-verbal silencing spell to dampen the sound of their footsteps crunching in the snow._

_"I don't think that was a good idea," he heard Harry's voice once the Gryffindor had caught his breath from the laughing fit._

_"Oh, C'mon," Draco replied, "do you really think Severus would notice? With all the potion fumes in your house, I guarantee you he'll never know."_

_There was the distinct sound of rustling and then Harry coughing followed by another set of laughter from both boys. A quick peek over the hedges and they could see both teenagers sitting on a bench clearly smoking some substance between them._

_"My turn," Draco called out and then silence._

_Lucius's face went bright red from anger, not the cold._

_"Draco Lucius Malfoy!" The Malfoy patriarch yelled as he entered the garden. Draco immediately stood up, dropping whatever it was he'd been smoking._

_"Harry James," Severus said disappointingly and picked up the rolled paper to inspect it, "Dragon Dust, really?"_

_He handed it to Lucius, who smelled it, threw it on the ground, and then vanished it away._

_"Where did you get that?!" The older blonde wizard called out grabbing Draco by the shoulder._

_"I didn't-"_

_"Do. Not. Lie to me," he lectured._

_"Matthew was here tonight and Nott got it for us! I swear! He left it when he went home," Draco yelled and Lucius finally let go of the teen. "I'm sorry."_

_Severus ignored the rest of their conversation as he watched his own son wondering how he ended up in the mix. As he did with his students back at school, he was not about to reprimand Harry in public._

_"Let's go," he grabbed Harry's arm more firmly than even he expected. "Thank you Lucius. Please give Narcissa our best and Happy Christmas to you both."_

_Just as they headed back into the manor Severus heard Draco call out, without the normal animosity he would have expected, "See you later Potter… or Potter-Snape."_

_Harry couldn't even look over his shoulder with the iron-clad grip his father had on him._

_"What the bloody hell were you thinking, Harry?! Do you have any idea what would have happened if that reacted with your potions?" Severus yelled the minute they were both back home in their sitting room._

_"I didn't think," Harry started and then looked away, "I just… wanted to be normal for once… and it was stupid."_

_"You're right about that! Get up to your room!"_

_Harry obediently left and Severus aggressively untied his tie and threw it against the wall. What in the world was that child thinking? Not only were drugs absolutely unacceptable for any reason, it especially wasn't something Harry should have in his system. The professor pinched the bridge of his nose taking several calming breaths and then walked up the stairs to his son's bedroom._

_Harry was already in his green, but not Slytherin green, pyjamas and was getting into bed. Upon seeing Severus walk into the door - not at all rewarding the teenager with the privacy of knocking first - the Gryffindor immediately stood back up._

_"I'm so sorry, Dad!" The raven-haired boy started, but before he could say another word he was enveloped in his father's strong arms._

_"You are absolutely grounded," Severus said, "most likely until you're thirty."_

_Harry gave a small chuckle and started into the story of how he ended up with Draco in the gardens. If there was any silver lining to the event, after that whole ordeal when they got back to Hogwarts the Malfoy heir's attitude towards Harry changed drastically, making the second half of the year much easier on his son. Unfortunately, the reprieve was short-lived and Severus was never able to fulfill his threat on grounding Harry until he was thirty because the young Gryffindor was gone before his next birthday._

* * *

**_Wednesday 23rd, October 1996_ **

~~~~HP~~~~

Much to Harry's chagrin, Snape did not allow the Gryffindor to return to classes early. Sure, Harry had been nervous about going back and it would have given him less time to mentally prepare, but at the same time he wanted to just get the first week over with so he could start his 'new normal'. At first he really thought doing individualized lessons would be beneficial so he wouldn't have to deal with the other students distracting him - specifically the Slytherins in Potions - however after over a month of it he was ready to move back into regular classes.

According to Snape, he had to wait until the 28th because there was still too much to try to prepare before he would be ready to go back. The Gryffindor couldn't imagine how much there was to "prepare" for seeing as he already had his books and was technically taking classes, so it should have been just a matter of him physically showing up. It was true that he needed a new set of quills and parchment, at the same time though, he could get through at least a week with what he had laying at the bottom of his trunk or the muggle pen and paper he'd been using all year so far. If he absolutely needed to, he was sure his friends would lend him some to use. In the end, he knew well enough not to question too hard about it because he needed to pick his battles, and this wasn't one worth picking.

The young wizard did his own personal celebration when he finished his last round of phase one consolidation the previous Saturday because he didn't think anyone, besides maybe Snape, would understand how freeing it was to finally have that completed. It was far better than winning the Quidditch cup third year and as an added bonus to the day, there was nothing out of the ordinary in terms of the side effects - even the black stuff when he vomited seemed less than before. Apparently, while Healer Smithe ended up being questionable in the end, he'd been right all along that the last two weeks would be much more bearable than the previous month.

In the final week before classes and when his phase three would start on Friday - with an IT and two IVs, followed by another IV on Saturday - Snape had him trying to test out what his "unintentional magic" could do. Harry wasn't sure why they didn't do it during his normal magical testing, but he wasn't about to complain. Since summoning seemed to be the most common use of this new magic, the professor had him try to summon something he needed like his blanket, a goblet of water, or a book from his bedroom, however none of them reacted to his nonverbal, wandless _accio_. He had asked about getting his wand to test, except as Snape frustratingly pointed out, there really wasn't a way for them to know if he was using his normal magic or this "new magic". With the overall experiment a failure, it either meant his new magic was no longer here or it wasn't something he had direct access to; at least not yet.

Following that train of thought, by Wednesday Harry finally had to admit to himself that he had no idea how to put all the pieces of this puzzle together on his own. He kept circling back to the word he'd found in Snape's notebook about him, _Horcrux_ , which was a container for something and Snape thought it was related to how he got Leukemia in the first place. Maybe it held this "new magic" and he had been somehow able to "tap" into it during the chemotherapy? Maybe as he went through the chemotherapy, he'd get more access to this "new magic"? Wouldn't that be an ironic change of events; he chooses the chemotherapy thinking he was going to lose his magic, but instead he was actually going to _gain_ more magic?

_I can definitely handle that!_

"Hermione, have you ever come across the word Horcrux?" Harry asked while studying with his friends after their customary dinner Wednesday night. It was times like this where things were starting to feel a little more normal to him and it was a good time to ask the only other person he thought would have any idea of what that word meant.

As expected, without making a sound, his friend closed one of her eyes as if she were looking through every book she had ever read in her mind. Occasionally, Harry envied her ability to remember such minute details, even if she'd only read them once, but at the same time he imagined it would be very exhausting to have that much information permanently stored in one's head. Not to mention he was having a hard time keeping track of small details lately. At his last treatment he'd asked Dr. Meghan and she called it "chemo brain" and it was another side effect - less common, but not rare - of chemotherapy where he could find himself having a difficult time remembering things or finishing sentences. For him it sometimes felt like the chemotherapy was slowly breaking apart pieces of his mind along with his body.

"I don't think so. Can you give me some context for it?" she replied inquisitively, almost taking it as a personal challenge that Harry knew something she didn't, "Where did you come across it?"

 _Oh... I should have expected that question_.

That was a prime example of his brain not quite thinking things completely through lately. Of course Hermione would want to know where he'd learned of something she didn't know. If she knew, she probably wouldn't care where he'd seen the word and he'd be fine... now, he'd have to tell her something.

"Erm... I read it in a book Severus had," he said, not wanting to admit that the book was Snape's personal notes about his treatments. It was generic enough and still technically not a lie.

"It's probably some kind of dark magic then," Ron muttered, not even attempting to hide his feelings on the subject.

"It sounded like it was a container for something," he added hoping it would give her enough to work from, "but there wasn't much else said about it."

"Maybe it's what contains your magic?" Dudley suggested out of nowhere and Harry was surprised how close his muggle cousin was to his own theory on it, "I mean something has to be holding it, right?"

Hermione furrowed her brows as she contemplated that idea.

"Technically speaking," the witch started in her lecture-mode Harry knew all too well lately, "our magic is held within what's called a 'core', however no one's obviously seen it. It's like a soul; you know it's there, just there's no real corporal figure to it so there's no real need for something to hold it."

Harry wanted to disagree on the grounds that the soul was held by a person's body, except he really didn't want to get into a theoretical discussion he was bound to lose against Hermione.

"The word doesn't sound familiar," the witch continued, "but that doesn't mean there isn't information about it somewhere. I'll take a look through the library and let you know what I find. You do know, Harry, that you could always ask Professor Snape, especially if it was in his book. I'm more than certain he would tell you."

"Not likely in his current mood lately," Ron mumbled again pushing more of the food around his plate; an act that was very telling for the redhead who normally ate every crumb on his plate.

"Don't mind him," Hermione explained, waving off Ron's mood, "he got a detention first thing in class this morning from Professor Snape, so it's been a bit of a sore subject; at least more than usual."

"I was defending my best friend! What did you expect me to do?" Ron finally lifted his head as he argued back to them. "Parkinson was saying all sorts of awful things, but did that slimy git hear a word she had said? Of course not because it was said by a _Slytherin_. I swear he's worse now then even last year!"

Being almost two weeks since the Skeeter article, Harry really had hoped most of the gossip would have blown over by now. Unfortunately, that clearly hadn't happened since every time he talked to his friends, they told him all different stories of the things that were being said about him. Most of the time, Harry just ignored it and told his friends to do the same. However, something had clearly upset Ron this time to get detention.

"It's really fine, Ron," Harry explained to his sullen friend. "I appreciate it, I really do, but you didn't need to get yourself detention over my account. You know Severus has been a little off lately, it's best to stay out of his way."

Thinking about it now, it was no wonder the man was grumpy after the article. Even if Harry had been in classes after it was printed, there wasn't much in there that he'd have to answer for; everyone already knows about the cancer, so what if they know about what his treatments are like and the side effects from them? Snape, on the other hand, would have to face his students and the other professors after all of them read a very bold accusation that he was still a current Death Eater. Those that actually trusted that the professor was on the side of the light would feel sorry for him - an occurrence Harry knew Snape would immensely hate - and those that weren't sure where his loyalties fell would now look at him as a traitor; Harry knew for a fact in these cases no one ever gave the other person the benefit of the doubt. It was a lot to manage on top of Harry's care and suddenly the young wizard could understand why Snape hadn't been able to help get him ready to return to classes early.

Ron had a sour expression on his face that morphed into confusion.

"You're really handling this loads better than I would have expected, mate," he said, somewhat confused. Then he added as an afterthought, "You didn't hear the things Parkinson was saying, though. Even Neville got riled up over it."

"Seriously, what else am I supposed to do? For once, what she reported, at least most of it about me, was actually accurate," Harry spat back. He was tired of everyone continuing to talk about it all and he refused to feed the fire of gossip regarding him.

"I told you already; you should have pressed charges, Harry," Hermione said, reaching over the table to give Harry's hand a small squeeze. "In the muggle world, she would have broken a countless number of privacy laws for essentially stealing, and then reporting, your medical information without your permiss-"

She was interrupted when Harry vehemently shook his head, "And what about the wizarding world, Hermione? No one seemed to care when she wrote that rubbish last year. Not to mention that it would only manage to draw even more attention to the story then there already is. No, I just want this to die down before I start classes Monday and that's already not likely to happen."

"How do you feel about starting back?" Dudley asked, bailing Harry out by changing the topic. The Gryffindor silently thanked his cousin simultaneously taking note that the other teen had seemed more withdrawn tonight than usual.

"I'm nervous... and I'm angry because I should have been in classes this week like my new _doctor_ said I could be," it was Harry's turn to push his food across his plate thinking about how he used to be able to make decisions like this on his own. "And apparently I'll have a new schedule Severus has been working on with Minerva so I restart classes slowly. I think I'll only start out doing partial days, or something like that."

"First, there's nothing wrong with a muggle doctor Harry, especially when you have a muggle illness," Hermione lectured; of course she would pick up on the first part of his statement. "And second, I'm sure professors Snape and McGonagall just want what's easiest on you."

"Yeah, well most of my life was spent with me getting to make my own decisions on these types of things. Hell, my aunt and uncle refused for me to come to Hogwarts pretty much every year and we all see how well that turned out... And they were my guardians then too," it was a bitter thing to say, especially with Dudley sitting next to him, plus it wasn't even a reflection of his current mood.

The week so far had actually gone extremely well. After spending most of Sunday recovering from Saturday's chemo, he woke up to the dreary Monday with a lot of energy and ready to jump back into lessons. He'd gotten his best marks of the year - maybe even his whole Hogwarts career - on his latest Defense assignment on Monday, Tuesday's lessons with Malfoy were actually so engaging he didn't even notice when the time was up for them to end - genuinely surprising himself on how much he enjoyed those two tutoring sessions. Really, outside of the new doctor, the article from Rita Skeeter, and having to wait to start classes, things were looking up for him.

When dinner was long over, the new trio decided to stay with Harry until Professor Sprout showed up for his Herbology lesson. At least, that was the plan until Snape stormed through the door with Malfoy following behind him. The four students in the sitting room looked between themselves as the professor went into his office with Malfoy, closing the door behind them. Snape was almost never back before Harry's lesson, so his presence - along with Malfoy's - was significant.

"I don't want to be here when, whatever that is, is done," Ron commented standing up to leave and Harry couldn't blame him given everything they'd talked about today.

As his friends and cousin were getting ready to leave, Harry called out, "Dudley, can you say back for a minute? I wanted to ask you something."

Sometime between dinner and that exact moment, Harry made the decision to check in with Dudley based on his overall gloomy demeanor. A lot had changed for the other teen and while Harry was extremely proud of his cousin, it had to be difficult to make such a big change, on top of having no idea what was going to happen in the immediate future. That wasn't even counting the fact that he'd lost both his parents only three months ago and being surrounded by Harry's friends and world, no one would really be checking in on Dudley.

"Yeah," Dudley said, sitting back down once Hermione and Ron left. "Everything ok?"

"I wanted to ask you the same thing," Harry awkwardly said, "You seem a little down today."

"Oh," Dudley looked down at his hands, "it's nothing, really."

"You've done a lot for me these last couple of months, Dudley," Harry admitted for himself as well as his cousin, "and there's been a lot of change in such a short time... To be here-"

"It's fine," Dudley said and suddenly the Gryffindor knew why Snape gave a subtle cringe every time Harry used that word; it was obvious the other teen was anything but fine. "I actually really like staying here. I think it gives me something else to focus on, y'know?"

Harry could appreciate what Dudley had said. It made things so much harder when everything around you went on like normal life when you felt anything but normal inside. It was how he felt going back to Privet Drive after Cedric's death and then to Grimmauld Place to find out that everyone around him was going about their life while he sat with his own thoughts and nightmares at his aunt and uncle's house. That caused a thought to pop up in his head.

"I'm sorry for what I said about your parents and about me having to make my own decisions growing up," the young wizard tried again to get through, "it wasn't fair to say that with you sitting right next to me."

"I know they were horrible to you, Harry," Dudley said honestly, "I can't imagine having to take care of myself like you did, especially at that young of an age. It's different for me now; I'm practically an adult."

The two cousins sat in an awkward silence. Harry wasn't going to say it was alright because it wasn't. His aunt and uncle may not have liked or loved him, but they should have made sure he was at least taken care of. If nothing else they could have given him to someone who would do that; of course Dumbledore already told him they were forced to keep him for his own safety from Voldemort.

"Mum's birthday is Friday," Dudley said and Harry could hear the pain in his cousin's voice.

"I'm sorry," the young wizard said awkwardly, not sure what else was appropriate. He'd pretty much forgotten about his Aunt Petunia's birthday after starting at Hogwarts and he was no longer there for it.

"Do you even know when your parents' birthdays were?"

Harry recoiled at the blunt question and for a moment didn't know how to respond to the easy question.

"No, I don't," He'd thought about that a lot when he was a kid, but learned quickly to never ask his aunt about things like that. If Snape and his mother were close, he would probably know when at least her's was though. "It has to be hard for you having known your parents before they died. I mean, I don't remember mine at all, so I miss them... All the time... but it's just different.

"Why don't hang out here on Friday? I have chemo that day, but I think you should come over anyway. You can skive off muggle studies for the day and I'll ask Dobby to bring some cake."

"That'd be great, Harry," Dudley said quietly and for a second he looked hesitant to continue, but he did, "It looks like things are working out for you... Here, I mean… I know you said you had a _complicated_ relationship with Professor Snape, but he seems good for you. He really cares about you."

"He does," Harry replied with his eye on the professor's office. "We've become... I dunno really, but I like it."

While Harry had been thinking that awkward phrase for weeks now, it was the first time he'd admitted it out loud. He was happy living with Snape and he could never deny that he thought of the man as his parent; more so than Professor McGonagall.

"You deserve it - someone to watch out for you - even if you don't think you need it."

"Thank you, Dudley," Harry replied and his face immediately flushed.

Both boys let the conversation fall between them until Malfoy came out of Snape's office. He took one look between the two cousins, smirked, and shook his head before leaving.

"What'd you think that's about?"

"Who knows, Severus has been spending almost all his supposed free time in his office and most of the time Malfoy has been with him," Harry commented as Snape walked briskly out of his office.

"Professor Sprout is here," he announced, raising a single eyebrow at Dudley's presence.

"I should go," Dudley stood and collected his notes from his muggle studies classes. Harry made a mental note to ask him about how things were going for him on Friday.

~~~~SS~~~~

"So let me get this straight," Draco asked in disbelief staring down at the piece of parchment Severus had just handed to him. The teen was sitting across from his Head of House unable to believe what he'd just been asked to do, "you actually want me to go buy an illicit ingredient on the black market, using a dodgy contact from my father?"

"Mutual contact," Severus corrected, feeling no less guilty over the situation he found himself in.

Somewhere in all of his planning, Severus had quickly realized there was no way he could be seen purchasing Chimera Scales as Voldemort's top traitor, so he came up with the - extremely risky for them both - plan to use Draco in his place. He recognized that it was the only option, even if it wasn't the best. For one, he didn't want to intentionally place Draco into any additional harm's way, nevertheless, they needed to take some calculated risks sometimes because Severus being brought to the Dark Lord would not help any of them in the long run. He reassured himself that he would ensure his and Draco's safety by going with the blonde disguised under Polyjuice Potion, however he was intimately aware of how much could go wrong during a meeting like the one he was planning.

The source he'd decided on had been someone Severus had met in his Potion's Mastery training class who also happened to be a decent acquaintance to Lucius from when he was a Slytherin three years ahead of the Malfoy patriarch. Severus and Matthew had bonded over the Dark Mark. Matthew had wanted to join the Death Eaters, however as one of the rare muggleborn Slytherins - a fact that the older wizard tried hard to conceal - he thought it best not to tempt fate. At the time, Severus thought he had been paranoid, now though he could see the merit; given Matthew's nervous disposition he wouldn't last long in front of the Dark Lord's questioning, even if he would turn around and deliver every last muggle relative of his own.

And that was how the professor found himself in his laboratory the Wednesday night before Harry returned to class, discussing the illegal procurement of a highly controlled ingredient with his student, while the Gryffindor was discussing something much more innocuous with Dudley until Professor Sprout's arrival for Herbology. It had been easier than expected to convince Albus of the benefits to having Draco assist him with the brewing process and the headmaster's only request was that the teen did not know the purpose of it - compartmentalization and all - should he find himself questioned about it from Lord Voldemort. The former spy may or may not have conveniently left out the part about also needing to use Draco to help secure one of the "harder to find" supplies, but in the end, all that mattered was that he had the headmaster's explicit permission to make this a top priority to get going.

For Severus, starting had been the easy part. He'd made a trip last week to Knockturn Alley - after picking up Harry's new school supplies, a couple of new shirts, trousers, and robes since he had actually grown - then him and Draco started the complicated mess of the potion. Each night brought its own set of challenges and there were several curses - both literally with his wand and figuratively speaking - trying to get the first steps correct. Luckily, the full moon would be this Saturday and Lupin had of course agreed to send a phial of hair sometime on Sunday, and so far it looked like they wouldn't be losing any time.

The only complication he'd run into - besides securing the Chimera Scales - had nothing to do with the potion itself. No matter what he'd said to Albus, there was no way Draco didn't have some clue who this potion was for. Even worse, based on the questions he'd received it wouldn't surprise him if the blonde knew what it did based on the ingredients alone. No, it was only a matter of time before Draco was fully aware of some kind dark magic living within Harry. The professor was determined to do everything in his power to prolong the discovery for Draco's safety more than Harry's.

"Mutual or not, you're still asking me to use my name to get this, and all without any real explanation? Are you mad?" The teen declared in front of him as he pointed to the four cauldrons currently on the fire, "It's one thing for me to help brew a mysterious potion and another to almost end up in Azkaban for it. If you remember right, unlike my father, I'm trying to stay _out_ of Azkaban."

"I will not let you end up in Azkaban over this," the former spy said without missing a beat. "And do not forget that being part of brewing an ancient and extremely difficult potion will open a lot of doors for you."

"What good does that do for me again if I can't list what it is because for one, you won't tell me what we're brewing, and two, because of its illegal ingredient?" Draco asked, crossing his arms in front of his body as he leaned against the table top.

Severus had been fully aware that bartering with Draco would be a difficult task because the teen was pure Slytherin. He knew exactly what his value was worth and pushed until he felt he was getting the better end of the deal. In any other scenario, the professor would be quite proud. At the current moment, he needed to find the right currency to get Draco to help with as few questions as possible.

"That's fair. I will tell you the identity of the potion once it is deemed safe to do so. Also, do not forget, it comes with a high recommendation from the youngest and top leading Portions Master in the UK, which will translate impeccably well for the Potions apprenticeship you were considering after Hogwarts," that got through to the teen. It was common knowledge in the academic and research community that Severus very rarely endorsed a student, especially for a Potion's Mastery as Draco had alluded to wanting last year.

"What if that's not where I see myself anymore?" The blonde asked more curiously than confrontational, giving Severus the impression that he was indeed thinking about a change of direction.

"Then we can discuss the other options you're considering, especially if you need to change your course load. Though unless you're looking into something as simple as Herbology, you should know my recommendation would do you well in almost any discipline," he narrowed his eyes.

There was a moment of almost silence between them, with only the boiling of the cauldrons filling the dead space, before Draco lifted his head in confidence and said, "When do we leave?"

"As you can expect, with these types of deals certain arrangements need to take place first. I'll reach out under the cover of wanting to arrange a deal based on your recommendation. Once he's set a day and time, I'll let you know," Severus said without waiting for another word from Draco on the subject before moving on in their preparations.

There were very few things relating to Potions that Severus Snape didn't think he could do, and he was pretty sure this would push him to his limit. He'd do it, though, and the worst case scenario would be a failed potion, a - most likely quite large - explosion, and no further answers to their question about the black substance. If that were to happen, they'd need to make an educated guess and error on the side of caution to try to preserve as much of Harry's current magical core as possible.

He had just dismissed Draco and was putting a stasis spell on all the cauldrons when a piece of parchment popped up in front of his face that had _Pomona Sprout_ written on it. After Harry's Herbology lesson, he'd planned to walk Harry through what to expect when he restarted classes, so the sooner the professor started, the sooner he could have that conversation and finally get some sleep.

* * *

Severus used the time during Harry's Herbology lesson to catch up on as much of his marking as possible, putting him in a good position heading into the second half of the week. Unsure where Friday's chemotherapy would lead them, as it was the first of Phase two of consolidation, he wanted to get as much out of the way as possible, especially since he'd taken that day off. While Harry would be getting the same medications he had the last two weeks, the professor still felt he should be here for it.

Harry's lesson didn't finish until shortly after nine, and when he heard the door eventually close he waited to give him some time to get ready for bed before making his way out to the Gryffindor's bedroom.

"Come in," Harry called from the other side of the door.

As expected, when he walked into the room, the young wizard was propped up against the headboard sketching in his notebook.

"Something good?" He asked casually. In his old reality, Harry was always proud to show off his work to Severus, but here Harry was more private with it and the professor only saw pieces here and there when passing.

"Not really," Harry's face started to flush as he promptly closed the book, "I'm working on a beach or at least what I think the beach would look like since I've never been before. But you said..."

He trailed off and Severus was taken back to their last night at Privet Drive. Somewhere in his rambling mess, he remembered telling Harry that _his Harry_ \- no, that wasn't right anymore - the _other Harry_ , loved their trip to the sea and they had planned to go back before... Before that Harry died.

"Do you ever get confused?" The Gryffindor asked, "with the memories between the two worlds?"

 _That's a fair enough question_.

"Not as often anymore," he answered honestly, "I used to be, closer to when everything happened, but it's getting less and less often. Now occasionally it's hard to remember I'm a year behind where I was, but beyond that I'm just living in the moment."

Harry nodded thoughtfully then rubbed the back of his neck; a telltale sign that he was nervous, "Besides... y'know... me... What do you miss the most?"

Severus gave a small chuckle that seemed inappropriate given the serious tone of the conversation. It had been a rough two weeks for the professor between the aftermath of the Skeeter article and the realization that _his Harry_ \- no the _other Harry_ , he reminded himself again - didn't have to die because of the soul fragment. He hadn't lied when he said he was living in the moment, because that was the only way he found he could stay focused and moving. But now he needed to answer the Gryffindor; what did he miss the most besides his son?

"The little things I hardly noticed back there at the time," he answered, sadly. "Like the pictures from your birthdays and Christmases that I still have memories of, but will never actually see again. The Dark Lord being gone is a pretty large one right now too. And keeping up the charade of two personalities has been quite tiring at times."

"I bet," Harry said, running his hands nervously over the cover of his notebook.

Severus waved his hand and a box came flying into the bedroom right towards Harry, which the Gryffindor caught with his still honed seeker reflexes.

"That is your school supplies, new uniforms, and robes," he transitioned once it seemed like Harry wasn't going to continue to ask the questions he knew were still plaguing the young wizard's mind.

"I should have gone with you," Harry announced, opening the box full of quills, rolls of parchment, ink, refills on several of his potions ingredients, seven white shirts, five jumpers, and two Gryffindor robes, "I'll write to Gringotts and-"

"No," Severus said interrupting the nervous teen, "you needn't worry about it."

"But-" Harry sat up taller to make a point. Severus had expected this reaction. Harry had been fully responsible for taking care of himself most of his life and even though he was almost a legal adult in the wizarding world, he didn't need to do that anymore.

"Minerva and I have taken care of it," he reassured the young wizard. "Look through them, try on the clothes to make sure I got your sizes correct, and let me know if you need anything additional."

Harry opened his mouth to continue his argument, then decided against it and instead said, "Thank you Severus. I'll let you know, but I don't think there's anything else I need."

Severus was surprised when a comfortable silence fell between them. The professor pulled out of his robes a piece of parchment and handed it to Harry.

"Minerva has put together an alternative schedule for you," he explained watching for Harry's reaction to his shortened schedule. "You'll have a maximum of two classes per day with a tutoring session in either period before lunch or before dinner depending on if your classes are in the morning or split on either side of lunch. It will be up to you if you'd like to have meals here or in the Great Hall, though I'd recommend you eat here at least for next week."

Harry's eyes scanned the parchment outlining his "new normal:"

_Monday: Defense/ Transfiguration; Charms Tutoring_

_Tuesday: Herbology/Charms; Defense Tutoring_

_Wednesday: Defense/Potions; Transfiguration Tutoring_

_Thursday: Herbology/Transfiguration; Potions Tutoring_

_Friday: Transfiguration/Charms; Herbology Tutoring_

To Harry, it felt like an easy schedule compared to what he knew his classmates were doing, yet somehow he felt he'd have a hard time keeping up with it. And of course, he was starting out with Defense in Snape's class.

"How far behind am I?" He asked tentatively, not one hundred percent sure he wanted the answer.

"I won't lie, it will be a difficult transition for you," Severus honestly said, "but we'll stay in communication with your professors and do what we have to do."

Despite how scared the Gryffindor appeared, he looked Severus in the eye and said, "What will class be like with you? What I mean is..."

"Will there be open hostility between us?"

Harry's face flushed, "Yeah... What you said."

"I will not belittle you in class anymore," Severus had put a lot of thought into this during the last few of his classes, specifically with the sixth years, "however you must also understand that in class I'm your professor first and..."

It was Severus's turn to trail off unsure how to complete the sentence without sounding foolish.

"My parent second," Harry finished for him, giving a small smile. There it was, everything they'd been circling around these last few weeks sitting on the proverbial table in front of them. It was both terrifying and relieving all wrapped together.

"Exactly," he replied confidently, so that Harry couldn't question his sincerity and he was rewarded with another small smile from the young wizard.

"Severus?" Harry asked as it was approaching ten o'clock. "Would it be alright if Dudley spent Friday here? It would be Aunt Petunia's birthday and he's seemed kind of down because of it."

Severus raised a single eyebrow, "As long as you are alright with that as it's your first day of phase two."

"Yeah, I'm fine with it," Harry assured him, "it's not like the chemo will be anything new and these last two weeks were practically a breeze."

It was true, Severus had been relieved when they'd finally put phase one behind them, which included putting behind them the start of his tutoring, the awful pneumonia weeks, and the _hell weeks_ which also brought along the horrific visions. He had no idea what the next twelve weeks would bring, but he was ready to start on their new adventure of going back to classes with Harry having to navigate among his peers, hopefully completing the potion to confirm the piece of Voldemort's soul within Harry's, and getting to spend their first holiday together as a family; albeit a very non-traditional one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next: Back to Classes
> 
> Quick Poll: Outside of anything dealing with the adoption, Harry's diagnosis and death (those are already planned), are there any AU moments you've wanted to see? I think I hit most of the major canon events, but wanted to throw this question out there. I received a couple reviews in the past asking about Harry and Draco's friendship in the AU, which triggered the memory in this chapter (especially helpful as Draco's role starts to ramp up), so if there was anything specific you all want to see, I can try to incorporate it somehow.


	44. Back to Classes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's reading and reviewing!
> 
> Disclaimer: There's a section that is derived from the HBP during Harry's first class.

_Friday 25 October 1996_

_Phase Two: Day 1_

~~~~HP~~~~

As it always did, Friday rolled around faster than Harry was exactly ready for. It was a bright day outside, at least it looked like it through his enchanted window, but he could almost feel that snow was around the corner any day now. There was something in the air around him, even in the dungeons, that felt like the ground would be covered in snow not long after Halloween.

His tutoring and classes had been cancelled for the day due to his chemotherapy, but Professor McGonagall had stopped by yesterday to squeeze in a short transfiguration lesson so he wouldn't start next week any further behind than he already was.

Harry had started that morning, as he did most chemotherapy mornings, with a quick shower and he had just made it back to his room when he saw his new uniforms hanging in his wardrobe.

 _I should try them on_ , he thought and grabbed for a set instead of the soft blue pyjamas he was about to put on for his treatment. Up until now, for all of his lessons he'd been wearing jumpers and jeans choosing to be comfortable in his own home, even when he was doing lessons with the professors. His interpretation of their dress code was that they needed to wear the uniform in classes, and well, until next week he hadn't technically been in classes. Starting Monday though, he'd need to wear the uniform that he was sure would hang off his now highly unproportional frame. He had just finished tying his tie and slipped on the Gryffindor robe, when there was a soft knock on his door and Snape walked in before he could even respond. The professor's dark eyes went wide with surprise to see Harry in his full Gryffindor robes again. Harry questioned to himself if seeing him in his uniform brought back awful memories of their previous turbulent years.

"That's definitely a much better length," Snape said, walking over to stand in front of him.

"The rest looks too big," Harry whined, alluding to the significant space between his shirt and his chest and arms. "I look like it swallowed me whole."

"Do not worry," he reassured the self-conscious teen, "you'll gain the weight back, plus no one will even notice once your robe is closed."

Harry aggressively loosened his tie again to start changing back into his pyjamas thinking that maybe this was a bad idea after all. With the Skeeter article still making waves with his classmates, no good could come on Monday morning.

"Can I get some privacy?" Harry sharply asked the professor so he could get changed. "I'll be right out for breakfast."

"Of course, I was coming to let you know Madam Pomfrey is here for your blood sample," Snape walked back to the door. "I'll meet you in the sitting room."

Harry didn't respond - feeling a little guilty over his sullen attitude - and the moment his door closed, he threw his tie into the wardrobe, questioning if Snape would let him just stay in tutoring. No, he wouldn't do that. Harry would have to suck it up and use his Gryffindor courage to walk into class Monday like nothing was out of the ordinary.

Just like with all his other chemotherapy treatments, phase two started out with a blood sample and an IV of the antiemetic medication. Harry thought back to the last fifteen weeks and wondered how many muggle medications he'd had in that timeframe, quickly coming to the conclusion it was far more than he'd had in the whole rest of his life. If he was able to keep at least a bit of his magic, once all of this was behind him, he never wanted to take a muggle medication again - IV, liquid, or tablet. In fact, he started to think that even if he lost his magic completely, he would still find some way to live in the magical world. Somehow Filch managed it, but he'd have to commit to being less grumpy then the caretaker. Now that he thought about, maybe _that_ was why Filch was such an arse all the time? It had to be hard to live among all the magic and not be able to use any of it.

During the time he was waiting on his blood sample, he ate breakfast and started some of his school work before Dudley stopped by after what Harry knew was the end of breakfast in the Great Hall. It also meant that classes were about to start and both boys were officially going to miss their classes that day.

"Morning, Harry," Dudley greeted as he entered the kitchen and took a seat next to the Gryffindor. He had a cloud of sorrow around him and Harry couldn't help feeling that he was the cause of his cousin's anguish.

"Morning, Dudley," he replied, "Want some breakfast?"

"No, I ate upstairs," his cousin replied. "So what do you have going on today? Will it pretty much be what you had back at home?"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, finishing as much of his porridge and smoothie as he could, then he took his morning medications. "They're all pretty much the same. Today I'll get the one in my back, which thankfully I won't need to do again for another month, and then two, one hour IVs. After the IT, we can do whatever while the IVs finish."

Dudley's face was a combination of horror and confusion. This had become so normal for Harry these last four months, but explaining as he did to Dudley sounded a little overwhelming - specifically the medication in his back.

"Maybe I should go-"

"It's fine Dudley," Harry interrupted, "seriously, this is the same medication I got the last two weeks and yeah, I'll be sick, but nothing like the day you guys stopped by here."

Harry was being completely truthful and it was something that had him puzzled as well. In the last two weeks, he hadn't had any of the burning pain in his stomach, like when he was doing his "hell weeks". In fact, it was so different that the IV of morphine wasn't needed anymore since the tablets worked well enough for these medications when Dr. Meghan suggested he try without the IV last round. He didn't want to complain, however he also couldn't help thinking it was significant somehow.

When Madam Pomfrey came by for his blood sample and to start the antiemetic, both teenagers moved to the sitting room with their respective studying. Harry was surprised to see how serious Dudley was taking his assistant teaching duties on muggle studies as he sat in the sitting room marking papers.

"Good morning, Harry," Dr. Meghan's cheerful voice greeted as she stepped from the floo.

"Morning," he mumbled, catching Dudley's attention. The Gryffindor gave his head a small shake, indicating he'd fill Dudley in later.

Neither muggle was bothered when Snape transfigured the sofa into the exam table for his IT chemo, showing how comfortable they'd gotten around magic. Dudley stood next to him during the IT while Snape helped hold him in place. The young wizard also thought it was worth noting to himself yet again that this was the last one of these for the next thirty days. He'd gotten an IT every week during the first phase of consolidation and celebrated internally the moment he was able to get up.

"That was the last one for a while," Snape declared patting Harry on the shoulder. The young wizard smiled at his professor; the fact that he was celebrating a little, too, made him feel good inside.

After having as many five hour treatments as he'd gone through, the two hours felt like nothing and before Harry knew it, he was done. Tomorrow he would have another one hour of a different medication, one he hadn't had since induction phase and then he'd get a nine-day break; the longest chemo break he'd had since July, not counting the time he was unconscious with pneumonia.

"I'm sorry I forgot it was Aunt Petunia's birthday today," Harry said when they were back in his room after the chemotherapy was completed.

Harry was sitting on his bed sketching while Dudley was writing a letter at his desk to one of his school friends. When he needed it, his cousin would hand him the pail to sick up or help him to the loo, otherwise the boys were simply enjoying each other's company in the quiet dungeon quarters. Harry found himself questioning if this was what their life at Privet Drive could have been like had the Dursley's treated him like a son; like a brother to Dudley instead of the freak cousin. The young wizard shook his head to try to rid himself of the negative thoughts that threatened to take over.

"S'ok, Harry," Dudley replied, "I wouldn't expect you to remember it after everything that happened to you in that house."

"Do you know when mine is?" The question slipped out so quickly, he mentally kicked himself for asking it.

Dudley's face went red. "Erm-"

"You don't have to answer that," Harry quickly said, hoping to salvage whatever he could from it. "I don't know why I asked that."

"I know it's at the end of July," Dudley shrugged, a little embarrassed, "a month after mine."

"It's the 31st," Harry added quietly, thinking of the awful prophesy, "It's literally the end of July."

"Yeah, I knew that," Dudley said and an awkward silence fell between them. "Are you going to the Quidditch match on Saturday?"

"I didn't even know there was one," he said sourly. It appeared to him that not only was he not playing in the bloody game, no one had told him there would be one coming up. Trying to keep a better attitude, Harry took a deep breath and said, "I'll ask Severus if I can go. I don't see why not, he let me go to the trials."

While it took all of his resolve to stay positive the rest of the day, Harry did his best to help keep Dudley's anxious mind busy; they played muggle board games, chess, exploding snaps, and studied. Dudley walked Harry through the lessons they were learning in muggle studies, one of which ironically covered muggle medicine and Harry got the impression his cousin wanted him to talk to the class about his plentiful medications. Harry showed Dudley the fake potions kit that Malfoy left behind after their last lesson so Harry could do some extra studying before classes started again, and they both had fun trying different combinations to see which ones "exploded" the best. Through all of this, in the back of Harry's mind, was a black cloud plaguing his thoughts. Growing up practically in Dudley's shadow, it was becoming hard to look at his cousin slowly stepping into his old life, into the world that used to be all of his alone, that was his reprieve from the abuses at Privet Drive. It was a hard reality check that he would soon be facing the longer this battle with the cancer continued. While he had been fighting against his own body to stay alive, life at Hogwarts had been moving on without him.

The young wizard had fallen asleep shortly after dinnertime. The last thing he remembered was Dobby bringing a small cake so he could "celebrate" Aunt Petunia's birthday with Dudley. He wasn't able to eat any of the cake because at that point, the chemotherapy had officially caught up and he was too sick to keep anything down. He and Dudley had been back in his bedroom playing wizard's chess when he must have fallen asleep midgame.

He first dreamed of growing up with Dudley as a brother; the two of them riding bikes down Privet Drive, watching movies on the telly, and trying to convince Aunt Petunia that they hadn't worked on their homework together during primary school. Then his dream changed into living with his mum and dad back at Godric's Hollow; in a house he'd never actually seen yet somehow it felt so familiar to him that he felt he would be able to recognize it anywhere. He had a younger brother and a baby sister who he would tell all about Hogwarts to when he went back home for the Christmas holiday. Then he was taken to a different home where he lived with Snape in a small cottage by the sea. In this part of the dream, he was sick in bed with the window above his head bringing the sounds of crashing waves and the salty sea air into his bedroom. Snape was sitting at his bedside helping him take a sip of ginger ale and Harry could almost feel the bubbles tickling his throat in the dream.

Back in his bed in their dungeon home, Harry bolted out of bed for the lavatory; not even having time to put on his slippers - he'd forgotten to put on his warm socks when he'd gotten into bed - before he vomited into the loo. Waking up nauseous was one of the worst feelings in the world of chemotherapy for him. One minute he's sleeping almost soundly in his bed and the next he's emptying his stomach inside out until he was physically shaking.

When the dry heaving passed, he rested his head on the top of his knees until he heard the soft footsteps coming in from the door leading to his bedroom. Groaning, the young wizard lifted his head expecting to see Dudley, and was pleasantly surprised when Snape was standing there holding a glass of ginger ale in his right hand and his red blanket in his left. If he had the energy, he would have smiled because it was everything he'd wanted in that exact moment.

Wrapping the warm red blanket around Harry's thin shoulders, the professor sat down onto the floor besides the ill wizard and helped him take a sip of ginger ale from the glass. Harry could feel the cool liquid hit his stomach and almost instantly the intense cramping settled just enough. Without a second of hesitation, the Gryffindor leaned over and rested his head on Snape's shoulder. At this point, it had almost become a routine for the pair of wizards.

"W-where... is Dudley?" He asked with a shaky voice. This was supposed to be a day to help Dudley keep his mind off his parents and Harry felt like he'd failed his cousin yet again.

"He left quite some time ago," Snape said quietly, "it's about half past one right now. You were finally able to get some good sleep and he didn't want to wake you."

"I'm fine," Harry said with a dramatic exhale.

"No, you're not," the professor honestly replied, "you only think you are. Let's get you back to bed."

Snape stood first and then bent down to assist Harry off the floor and back into his bed where he wrapped the green soft bedspread around Harry's body.

"Did I wake you, sir?" Harry asked in a small voice feeling guilty for seemingly always waking the professor.

"No," Snape said quickly, "I was already up tending to a complicated potion when I heard you up."

_Is that what he's been doing locked away in his office?_

The Gryffindor furrowed his eyebrows trying not fall asleep before he could ask, "What's it for?"

"Something for the Order," he replied and was rubbing small circles on Harry's back that gave the young wizard no chance of staying awake to ask anymore questions about it.

* * *

_Monday 28, October 1996_

The day had finally arrived and Harry woke up on his first day of classes with his stomach completely tied in knots. It was worse than the day of the Quidditch tryouts last month, and he found himself standing in the shower simply to delay the inevitable. He'd been so excited and positive about going back to classes, yet somehow now he could not make his legs move to actually get out of the shower and dress for the day.

A knock on the door brought him back to the reality that no matter how nervous he was, he needed to move. Obviously he'd been in the shower far too long and Snape knew it too.

"Are you alright in there?" He heard the professor's baritone voice ask from the other side of the door.

"Yeah," turning off the hot water, he yelled his answer with a shaky voice. Today he would need to stand confidently, no matter what he felt inside. If he appeared in control, then maybe no one would mess with him.

"Hurry up," the voice called through the door, "you don't want to be late for your first class. I've heard that professor does not tolerate tardiness from anyone, even the Boy-Who-Lived."

 _Especially from the Boy-Who-Lived_.

Harry gave a small chuckle, appreciative of the distraction for as little time as it was. As his luck would have it, his first class was Defense with Snape and he had no doubts that the man would take points the second he was late - if for no other reason then to prove a point that Harry would receive no special treatment. At least that was something normal he could focus on when everything else was too chaotic. It would take all of his courage to walk into that classroom today in front of all his peers knowing they were still talking about the article in the _Daily Prophet._

The Gryffindor stood before the mirror and dressed in his school clothes at such a record slow pace he'd be lucky if he'd have time for breakfast before defense class. He completed his school uniform with a black hat to keep his head warm in the cold castle - otherwise he had quickly learned he would get a migraine - and finally grabbed his wand from the bedside table to safely stow it in his robes, unsure if he would need it today, but refusing to go without it. As with the other times he'd held his wand, he could feel the magic flowing through him, not unlike the first time he'd held the Holly wand back at Olivanders, except it wasn't nearly as strong as it had been the night of his first and second magic exams. It was something that intrigued him and he made a mental note to ask Snape about it later.

Voices were coming from the sitting room, drawing the Gryffindor's attention away from his ghastly appearance and out to the corridor. Straining to listen, Harry immediately recognized them as Professor McGonagall and Snape; ironically, his two professors for his in-class lessons today, both of which were in the morning.

"Well, don't you think we should give him a fair warning?" he heard the Transfiguration professor's stern voice ask. As usual, Snape was too good at making sure he could not be overheard for Harry to hear his response.

The young wizard slipped out of his bedroom silently and watched both professors discussing whatever it was she wanted to tell him, in front of the door to the kitchen. McGonagall was facing away from him, but he could tell her arms were crossed over her body giving the impression that she disagreed with whatever it was Snape had said.

"Discuss what with me?" He asked, stepping out of the corridor and into view.

McGonagall turned around quickly and when she saw him standing in front of her, fully dressed in his school clothes and robes, she swiped away what Harry knew were tears. Immediately, his face flushed; this was going to be a long half-day if everyone gave him that look.

"Oh Harry," she said approaching him as if to give him a hug, then at the last minute decided against it, "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm nervous," the young wizard responded, "I just don't want anyone to make a big deal of it, that's all."

"They will," Snape said honestly, gesturing Harry to the kitchen table where his breakfast - scrambled eggs and buttered toast - sat waiting for him. Both professors sat down at the table with him, feeling oddly like they were a family. A quick glance at the clock showed he only had forty minutes to eat and make it up to the defense classroom before he was truly late for class.

"I just want you to be prepared," Snape continued, "it may be a rough day. Unfortunately, sixteen year olds can be harsh at the best of times and you happen to be in an extremely unique situation."

"Not to mention, I know you've heard all the things everyone has been saying recently," Harry added, giving a blank expression before taking a couple bites of his eggs. So far, the end of phase one and beginning of phase two of consolidation had been everything he'd hoped; he had really only been sick for a day after the chemo instead of it lingering on. While he still was suffering from a lack of appetite, when he was reminded to eat, it at least stayed down. "Ron's been giving me a play-by-play about what people are saying in almost every class."

"Just try to keep your head up, Harry," Professor McGonagall said. "You have support from almost all the student body - remember that."

She sounded just like Hermione and he was about to say so when a piece of parchment popped up in front of Snape.

"Does everyone's quarters have that or just ours?" The Gryffindor wizard asked, trying to draw attention away from how he was feeling about the start of school.

"They all do," Snape answered before standing to greet whoever was at their door.

"Harry!" The young wizard turned at the sound of Hermione's voice calling him in her typical exuberant way.

"Hey 'Mione! What're you doing here?" He asked, offering her some of the food from the table, which she politely declined.

"I thought you'd like it if we walked to class together," she explained, taking a good look at him and then reached out to straighten his hat. She gave a telling look to the two professors, giving away the fact that this had likely been planned between the three of them.

"Alright," Harry said pushing away his partially eaten breakfast, "let's go."

"Aren't you going to finish eating?" She asked, concerned.

"I'm good," the young wizard said ignoring the pointed stares from all three of them, "Listen, I'm nervous and I'll just end up sicking the rest up if I eat any more. That's not really how I want to start my first class. From what I hear, my first professor doesn't take vomiting as an excuse for tardiness."

"That bastard," Snape replied without missing a beat and it caused both Harry and Hermione to start laughing hysterically. Once the two students had regained some kind of control, he said, "I'll see you in class, Mr. Potter."

"See you in class professor," Harry said and grabbed his school bag that he had already filled with his Defense and Transfiguration textbooks, plus all the school supplies he had gotten from Snape and his latest essays to hand in.

The two friends walked through the dungeons side by side as they made their way up to the Defense classroom. Unlike when they walked this similar path for the Quidditch tryouts, this time they weren't as lucky to have no Slytherins walking in the corridors and Harry did his hardest to ignore the glares from each student they passed.

"Where's Ron?" He asked, trying to make some kind of small talk with the Gryffindor witch to fill the awkward space between them.

"You know Ronald," she said casually, "he's not a morning person and is probably still having breakfast."

Something about the way she said it felt off to the young wizard. Had they gotten in a row before he even had a chance to be back in classes with them both? He narrowed his eyes at her.

After the fifth set of Slytherins they passed gave him the same death glare, Harry stopping her in the corner of the corridor, and asked, "What happened, Hermione? I expected everyone to stare at me, and sure the Slytherins usually are more hostile about it, but this has been bad."

The young witch shifted her weight uncomfortably, making it clear something had happened either over the weekend or that morning.

"Professor Dumbledore made an announcement last night at dinner about your return to classes," she said, scrunching her face in the memory, "he may have implied that should anyone give you a hard time about it today, it would be grounds for an instant detention... And he made it clear that the Slytherins were the main target of this new rule."

"Lovely," Harry mumbled. "I wish he hadn't said anything."

"And well," Hermione awkwardly continued, "I've heard rumors that Professor Snape said he'd double any detention that his house earned for messing with you. He said it had something to do with it being a punishment because Slytherins should be smart enough to not get caught, however everyone knows that's not the real reason. I mean, it's no secret you've been living with him all these months, so..."

Without thinking, Harry slammed his palm against the stone wall in frustration; not sure if it was at Dumbledore for making a statement like that in the first place or at Snape for making the situation between them even more obvious. Now they both had bigger targets on their backs.

"Let's just get this over with 'Mione," Harry groaned, leading Hermione out of the dungeons and up towards their classroom.

As they approached the door to the defense room, the Gryffindor wizard unconsciously started slowing his stride until he was two meters behind Hermione. His heart was racing, his breathing shallowed, and the blood was rushing so loud into his ears he couldn't hear all the commotion coming from the classroom. His vision was starting to tunnel when he heard Hermione ahead of him, that brought him out of the almost-panic attack.

"Harry, it'll be fine," she reassured her friend standing still to allow him to catch up and then she wrapped her right arm around his bony shoulders to help guide him into the classroom.

"I really thought we'd be here before most of the rest of the class," he said after eventually picking up on the bountiful of voices coming through the doorway.

The room was filled with far more students than Harry would have expected with still ten minutes before the start of the lesson, yet that wasn't what had him stopped still in the doorway. The room wasn't filled with only the sixth year Defense N.E.W.T. students, but also with all the D.A members - the different years and different houses included - Dudley, and the new first year Gryffindors he hadn't even met yet, waiting for him to arrive. His breath hitched and he instantly felt the moisture of tears starting in the corners of his eyes when he noticed that Dudley and all of the D.A. wizards had absolutely no hair. Completely speechless, he stood there not sure if he wanted to run into the classroom or away from it.

"You guys are going to be cold today," he said, walking up to his friends, who practically smothered him.

Now that Harry was standing among them a wave of gratitude washed over him so deep it nearly consumed him. This week wouldn't be too bad as long as he had his friends surrounding him. While it was amazing to be living with Snape and feel like he had a parent beside him, at the end of the day he also needed his friends just as much. They had been his first true family and after being literally quarantined away, it felt like he was getting a piece of himself back.

"We wanted to do something to show our support today," Ron said, patting Harry reassuringly on the shoulder without even a hint of embarrassment over his own lack of hair. In fact, looking around the room at his friends, none of them showed even any degree of self-consciousness nor regret.

"It was Hermione's idea to get us all together here," Neville added proudly.

Harry turned and a sheepish smile crossed his friend's face and he silently mouthed "thank you" to her.

The D.A. members all sat around Harry's seat talking about the latest gossip - which included Ron's sudden relationship with Lavender Brown, a fact that seemed to bother Hermione though she didn't say anything about it - and the upcoming Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch game this Saturday. Harry hadn't had the time to ask Snape if he'd be able to go because the professor was unusually busy working on whatever that potion was for the Order. He had spent more time than usual locked away in his laboratory and while Harry wanted to know what exactly the potion was for, the young wizard had already crossed the privacy line once with the notebook and was not wanting to do it again. Ultimately he knew that if Snape wanted him to know about it, the professor would have said something by now. As for the Quidditch game, he didn't see what difference going to the pitch would be compared to classes, nevertheless he was still going to get Snape's permission before committing to anything.

With only about five minutes left before the start of class, Snape came storming into the room with his black teaching robes billowing behind him. The sight that used to make Harry angry and anxious now, after everything they'd been through, was almost calming. At least until Snape paused glaring out at the sea of students - more than half of which weren't even in this class - and spoke his first, dark words of the school day.

"Unless the majority of you want detention for tardiness to your first class of the week," he said sharply, "I suggest you vacate my classroom this instant."

Everyone besides the sixth years shuffled to get their bags, said a quick goodbye to Harry, and left before Snape could turn back around to really yell at them. To add insult to injury, the Slytherins walked in as the D.A. members were leaving. Harry could tell they wanted to say something about all the wizards that no longer had their hair, except one look at Snape's murderous glare was enough to stop them.

"Welcome back to class, Mr. Potter," he announced when the bell rang and everyone else took their seats. As expected, murmuring and snickering crossed over the classroom. "I expect there will be no… distractions in class today?"

"None, professor," Harry said in a serious tone, yet his small smirk gave way to show how comfortable he was with where their new relationship was headed.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus stood outside of his defense classroom listening to the members of Harry's defense group laughing about some odd piece of gossip the professor had zero interest in listening to. His keen hearing instantly picked up the single sound he wanted to hear above all others today - Harry's laughter - and it filled a void within him he had since arriving in this reality; Harry being able to feel truly happy, even if just for a moment.

When Hermione asked to use his classroom to gather his friends before their first class, Severus did not hesitate to approve. It would do Harry well to see he has more support throughout the school then he likely thought in his own mind. Looking back through his counterpart's memories, the Gryffindor had such a difficult fourth and fifth year, if there was any way to help this rough transition, he wanted to do what he could. The fact that the wizards in his group had shaved their heads, showed how respected Harry was among his friends and hopefully that would help him feel a little more comfortable today.

Over the last week, the former spy had put an inordinate amount of time in trying to determine where his role would fall once Harry returned to class. After Albus's warning regarding his Slytherins, he was working at blending his dual roles, yet as he stood outside his classroom, he'd come to the conclusion that he really did not care anymore. With Harry back in classes, he absolutely could not ostracize the teen as he'd done the previous years. They had built a level of trust and dependency on one another and he refused to lose it because of some Death Eater children. He'd managed to survive two wars thus far by trusting his own instincts and he was determined to continue to do so. Harry needed him and he would do everything in his power not to let the teenager down.

In the Slytherin common room last night, he'd given his students a thorough warning regarding their behavior towards the Gryffindor today and in the upcoming weeks. It didn't matter what everyone assumed the reasoning behind his warning was, he made it clear - and he did believe it - that as Slytherins they should not be caught acting in such a way. Therefore, any detentions earned for blatant disregard to heeding the headmaster's directive would get double whatever detention they had originally received. As expected, there were murmurs of disaccord, yet he left it at that anyway.

It just so happened to work out that the day's lesson was a theoretical one on dark creatures - with focus on dementors and inferi - and therefore they would not need to cross the bridge of how to handle Harry's magic use this morning.

"What exactly is an inferi?" Pavarti asked before he could even get started on the lesson.

"They are corpses," said the professor calmly as he walked the length of the classroom. "Technically, they are dead bodies that have been bewitched to do a dark wizard's bidding. Imagine what the Dark Lord could do if he does not need to worry about such inconveniences as his army perishing in battle."

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" said Pavarti in a high pitched voice. "Is it definite? Is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Severus truthfully, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..."

"How would we know?" Dean interrupted, raising his hand while he asked the question.

Knowing this was a topic he'd discussed with Harry during tutoring the previous week to prepare for this lesson, he gave the Gryffindor a chance to answer.

"Mr. Potter, can you explain the difference between an Inferius and... say a ghost?"

The whole class looked around at Harry, "Er... well... ghosts are transparent —" he said with another small smirk.

That was not exactly the answer he had expected from the teen.

"You have nearly six years of magical education and the best you have is, 'Ghosts are transparent'?" Severus made sure to respond in such a way that Harry would know he was being sarcastic and not callous.

Pansy Parkinson let out a high-pitched giggle and several other people - primarily his Slytherins - were snickering.

Harry took a deep breath like he was trying to hold in his laughter, "Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but you just said Inferi are dead bodies. So they'd be solid —"

"A five-year-old could have told us that," sneered Zabini from across the room.

"As I previously said, the Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by

a Dark wizard's spells," Severus loudly explained, trying to reign in the class again. "It is not alive - it is merely used like a puppet to do the wizard's bidding. A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth... and of course, as Mr. Potter so wisely explained to us, is transparent."

"Well, technically what Potter said is probably the most useful if we're trying to tell them apart," Draco explained, drawing the attention away from Harry's immature response.

Picking up on the tactic, Ron added, "Yeah, when we come face-to-face with one down a dark alley, we're going to be having a shufti to see if it's solid, aren't we? We're not going to be asking, 'Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?'"

With the class now mostly agreeing with Harry's distinction between the inferi and ghosts, the level of animosity in the class seemed to dissipate. They managed to make it through with few other distractions and he appropriately assigned an essay outlining the attributes of inferi and dementors with emphasis on how to protect oneself against each dark creature. They would be starting the Patronus charm near the end of November and this would give the students a good foundation to successfully master that complicated spell.

"Mr. Malfoy," Severus called once the bell rang, dismissing class, "please stay after class."

Draco slowed down his collection of notes and Harry looked between the blonde Slytherin and the professor.

"He stays back after almost every class," the former spy heard Hermione whisper to Harry. There was no doubt that the Gryffindor would inquire about it at some later time.

Once the class had emptied with only Draco left, he approached the student's desk and sat down at the one across from him.

"That was not your smartest idea to stand up for Harry in class," he lectured. "You have a role to play, Draco, and you best be careful of how much of your hand you show. Otherwise, the results could be detrimental for you."

"It just came out," the blonde mumbled. "I mean, you have to admit, practically speaking his explanation did make the most sense."

"Regardless, you must watch yourself."

Averting his eyes away, Draco replied, "I understand, professor."

Severus nodded his head, "I require your assistance on the potion Wednesday after dinner. The werewolf hair arrived late last night, and will be ready to add at that point. Please plan accordingly with your school work as we'll likely be brewing until after curfew."

"I will do that, professor."

There was something about the way Draco said it that caused the former spy concern for his protégé. He would have plenty of time during Wednesday's brewing to find out what had been bothering the teen. Between regular classes, work for the Order, Prefect duties, and Quidditch, it was a lot to handle for anyone.

* * *

Since Severus would be spending most of the night locked away in his laboratory, he decided to have dinner with Harry Wednesday night. Being halfway through the Gryffindor's first week back to classes, it would be a good point to check-in on how he was handling the transition.

"How has your week been so far?" He asked, getting straight to the point as he collected Harry's evening medications.

"It's been fine. I'm definitely more tired than I thought I'd be," Harry commented appropriately with a yawn, "and before you say you told me so, I already know that fact."

"I was not about to say such a thing," he placed Harry's medications beside his dinner plate before sitting down himself to start eating. "You'll adjust, and at some point, then we can discuss maybe going back to a full-time schedule. Though you'll likely still have some form of tutoring. How have you been handing the magic parts?"

For his own class this morning, he had Harry go through the defense movements with his wand inverted to prevent any accidental usage. It wasn't the best idea and the Gryffindor absolutely hated it, however until they had a better idea about his magic it was the best option they had.

"I've just been doing the same as your class," Harry replied with a frown, "I feel totally daft though."

"It's effective and that's all that matters at the moment," Severus said, ignoring the glare from the teenager. "Have there been any issues with the unintentional magic?"

Harry nodded as he took a sip of his pumpkin juice; a distraction technique that would not come close to working on the professor.

"And?" Severus urged the teen to continue.

"Yesterday I may have accidentally vanished the mess in Herbology from when Ron kicked over the sack of soil for the second years' mandrakes," Harry said sheepishly, "I don't think anyone noticed besides Ron and Hermione though."

It was bound to happen at some point in his classes, however Severus had taken notice how fewer instances there had been of his unintentional magic occurring since he entered phase two.

"And how have things been with the other students?"

"No problems at all, sir," the young wizard said while staring down at his plate. It was clearly a lie. "It's nothing I can't handle. Please don't get involved."

"I shall not," the professor promised. Then, deciding to take another approach he asked, "I take it you've heard about the Gryffindor versus Slytherin game on Saturday?"

"Yeah I have," Harry lifted his head in confusion.

"Are you not interested in attending?"

Severus had wondered when the teen would ask him to go since he'd heard the D.A. members telling him about it in his classroom Monday morning. He was a touch concerned that the request had not been made yet.

"I am," Harry said, sadly, "it's just after last time, I don't know if I'm ready to be around everyone yet. It's different in the corridors between my two classes or the library... I'm not even eating in the Great Hall yet... then to be around everyone, it just seems too much."

It was logical and Severus was well aware that there was a fine line between pushing Harry into something that would legitimately make him uncomfortable and encouraging him not to allow his anxiety to take control of the situation. Honestly, the professor had no idea how to handle the situation now presented in front of him. In the end, he briefly closed his eyes and tried to think what he would tell the other Harry if he'd been in a similar situation.

"That's a fair assessment," he validated the Gryffindor's concern, "and you don't have to go if you don't feel comfortable, however please consider this, you'll be surrounded by your friends which is something you do need right now. You don't have to make the decision today and once you do decide, you can change your mind a dozen times before Saturday. Please try not to let your anxiety from the last time take over and keep you away from something you will legitimately enjoy."

He could tell he had said something in that small speech that struck a chord with Harry. His eyes flashed with fear and then calmed as he nodded his head.

"Thank you, Severus. I'll let you know."

A piece of parchment popped up in front of Severus's face announcing the arrival of Draco to continue on their potion work. He stood and took his almost empty plate to the sink noticing that Harry had hardly touched his food.

"Finish your dinner and take your medicine, then go and get some rest," he said to the teen at the table. "I'm needed in my potions lab tonight, but if you need me please do not hesitate to interrupt. Or at least use the sphere."

"I'll be fine Severus," Harry rolled his eyes in the most frustrating manner before he narrowed them. "Good luck with Malfoy tonight."

* * *

"Now we add the werewolf hair," Severus said two hours into brewing - more for his own good than for Draco's - as he carefully added the hairs one at a time. The last thing he wanted to do was have to start over because he put the hair in too quickly, "and stir clockwise for half a turn."

The potion went from a murky green to a bright blue, the exact hue that was needed to complete this stage, and the professor left out the breath he'd been holding.

"Did you request extra hairs just in case we botch this one?" The blonde asked rather harshly.

_What is with the teenage attitudes tonight?_

"Of course I did," he said carefully to manage his own rising temper, "if need be we can repeat this potion another four times, however I do hope that will not be required, especially because our limiting reagent is not, in fact, the werewolf hair, but the Chimera Scales. Which by the way, we will be going to secure the Scales a week from today."

"And what exactly is my role in all of that?" The blonde asked furrowing his brows.

"If all goes well, your presence will suffice," the former spy explained, "I'm still working the minute details, but I'll be the one actually making the deal under the guise of Polyjuice Potion. You're needed to make the introduction as Matthew typically does not sell to people he does not personally know."

"Could you have picked a dodgier bloke to buy this from?" Draco skeptically asked. "He's like the Dark Arts version of Fletcher, which I don't see how Dumbledore can put any of your lives in that tosser's hands."

Severus questioned that same thing every time he attended an order meeting. He would never understand why Albus put so much faith in a man as unreliable as Mundungus Fletcher.

"The headmaster has his own reasoning for each person he trusts," Severus replied, "and in my well versed experience, the lesser 'dodgy blokes' generally do not sell restricted ingredients to persons without the appropriate documentation, such as myself."

"That's fair," the teen replied with a shrug, "as long as you know what you're getting into."

"I am well aware at this point," Severus said with a small chuckle. "Though I question how you are aware of such a fact about this particular wizard."

Draco's face flushed at the accusation, but offered no further explanation as to why he would know such a detail about one of his father's former acquaintances. Severus knew, of course, how the blonde had known Matthew from his old reality and he found himself not at all surprised that the teen would know him here.

Given the situation with the Dark Lord's return, he made a mental note for a later time to make sure Draco was not too far down that path, then he placed a stasis spell over the cauldrons and turned to face his Slytherin, "Tell me about this change of career you are considering."

Draco flushed and quickly said, "It's nothing really. I don't even have to change any of my classes, so you don't really need to get involved."

"As your Head of House and advisor, I should know about your career choice so I can best _advise_ you."

At first, Severus could visibly see the hesitation in Draco's demeanor and he refused to give in and change the topic. This was something he should know about all of his O.W.L and N.E.W.T classes.

"I was thinking of..." Draco looked down at the table top and then mumbled in the lowest voice possible, "of a healer."

As a master Occlumens, Severus was able to hold his expression neutral as he considered what he had heard Draco quietly announce. While the teen had made some vast improvements this year in keeping his mind open, a healer required a large amount of empathy that he wasn't sure Draco had in him; at least not yet. It was true that the blonde would not be required to change any of his classes for this newfound career, however there were things Severus could do to help get him where he needed to be emotionally to succeed.

"If I may ask," Severus casually said, "what brought about this change in direction?"

"Well," Draco shifted his weight from one foot to the other and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "I was reading through the muggle medical book Granger lent me when I was trying to find out what was wrong with Potter and it just… I don't know... interested me. So I picked out some wizarding books on healing and I think it's something I want to do."

"Let's discuss this after the Quidditch match on Saturday. By then, I'll have some options for you to consider."

The gratitude in Draco's eyes was something the professor had long given up on in this student. Hopefully he'd be proven wrong and the young wizard would be able to turn himself around and do some good in the world. If Severus could accomplish one thing in his life, it was to prevent as many people as possible from going down the wrong in life as he felt he had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Final Puzzle Piece
> 
> I feel like I need to write this here as another disclaimer even though it hasn't come up yet. This story will likely end up as DM/HG pairing. It's been very subtly hinted before now as I was leaving the option open to do. I'm going to try to keep it as realistic as possible, meaning it's not going to be anything sudden, but at the same time since neither of those characters are my narrators, it might seem that way at times. It absolutely will not dominate this story. I'm adding it to give some more depth for where Draco's arc is taking him towards the end and, honestly, as I was writing future chapters, there's so much going on mentally with Harry that adding his two best friends into a relationship together would be too much for him. I hope to all like where this aspect is going.


	45. The Final Puzzle Piece

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks goes out to my sister (French_Charlotte) for not only being my unofficial beta (kind of official at this point), but for also helping out specifically in this chapter with the Quidditch scene. Apparently even in the wizarding world, I'm awful with sports. She's also been a big part in keeping me motivated to write (and the reason why this chapter is day early!), extremely helpful in working through the complicated plot points, and making sure everything makes sense.
> 
> Another huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed! Seriously guys, I love reading through them all and seeing the story unfold through your eyes.

* * *

**_Saturday 2, November 1996_ **

~~~~HP~~~~

Unlike the day of the Gryffindor Quidditch trials, the morning of the first Quidditch match of the season - Gryffindor versus Slytherin - was dark, dreary, and threatened rain. After debating all week about whether he wanted to go, Harry had finally decided last night that he would attend, yet now he found himself disappointed by the fact that he may not be able to if the weather didn't hold out. It was one thing to walk to the Herbology greenhouse in Thursday's morning monsoon and another to sit out in the stands getting soaking wet for Quidditch. Somehow he got the feeling Snape would not agree to that.

So it was with a heavy heart that the young wizard sat down at the kitchen table on Saturday morning without a single piece of Quidditch or Gryffindor gear on.

"Have you decided not to attend the game this morning?" Snape asked without lifting his head from the book he was reading. Harry tried to see what the topic was today, but as always the former spy held it in just the right way to protect his own privacy.

"Have you happened to look outside?" Harry questioned back. "I kind of assumed you wouldn't let me go if it was storming."

At that statement, Snape lifted his eyes and narrowed them at the Gryffindor.

"Last I saw it wasn't actually raining," he said skeptically, "and we are wizards you know, things can be done to keep you safe. However if you are using the potential weather as a reason not to attend, I won't make any further suggestions."

Harry had to take a moment to think through what he'd just been told. After the long week of classes, plus tutoring, his mind was a little slower at registering that the professor had basically told him he could still go to the match. His emerald eyes brightened as the light bulb flashed above his head.

 _Do wizards use that phrase?_ , he questioned to himself.

"So I can still go then?" He asked to confirm before he really got his hopes up.

"Assuming it's a reasonable rain and not torrential, yes, you can still go."

Harry felt on top of the world, proving just how much he actually wanted to go and see the match regardless of what he'd said before. So what if the whole school was there? They'd already all seen him from the _Daily Prophet_ article and walking through the corridors between classes, this would be his time to get to enjoy something for once this year. With that thought fueling his resolve, the young wizard quickly finished a little over half of his breakfast, and went back to his room to change into his Gryffindor Quidditch jumper, scarf, gloves, and a warm hat.

"How's Ron handling it all?" Harry asked Hermione and Dudley, as they walked out from the dungeons to the pitch.

"Bad question," Dudley mumbled and Hermione gave a frustrated huff.

" _I_ wouldn't know," she declared, "Ronald and I aren't exactly on the best talking terms as of right now."

Harry took a glance behind the Gryffindor witch's back towards Dudley who gave a small shake of his head. Thinking back on the week, the two of them did seem a little cold towards one another in the later part of the week, and Harry guessed it had to do with Ron's new relationship with Lavender. The redhead hadn't quite been around much since they started dating and frankly, Harry couldn't blame him. How often had the trio spent not talking to at least one of their group lately? It seemed there was always something coming between the three of them, a fact that frustrated Harry.

"Well," Harry tried to salvage the conversation, "I'm sure he'll do just fine."

"And if not," Hermione continued, "Lavender will be there to help dry his tears."

In an effort to save himself, Harry did his best to hold in his laughter. Surely she didn't think Ron would actually cry over Quidditch? This had to be one of those times where boys are just not supposed to understand girls.

As expected, walking out of the castle and onto the grounds to the Quidditch pitch was a shock to the young wizard's system. The wind was whipping passed his ears filling them with a dead howling sound that caused him to shiver independent of the cold. He pulled his hat lower to cover them while he walked with the other hoards of students down to the pitch. Even with his jumper over a long sleeved shirt and the new winter coat from Snape, he felt the cold down to the middle of his bones. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to see much of the game.

"Don't worry Harry" Hermione said, wrapping her arm around the Gryffindor wizard, "we're almost there."

Harry wanted to tell her that he obviously knew they were almost there since he could not only see the pitch, but he'd been there countless times without her help navigating. He resisted the urge though - something he was proud of himself for - as it wouldn't do any good, and he didn't want to be in a foul mood for the match.

Heading into the stands, Hermione led them down an aisle towards the middle where Harry's red blanket was already sitting, waiting for him to join. Relieved to have it with him, he covered his legs and instantly felt the familiar warmth of a heating charm battle its way against the bitter cold.

Luckily, he didn't have to sit in the cold too long before the game started. One-by-one, the members for both the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams made their way out onto the pitch. He waved to Ron as the youngest Weasley son came out holding his Cleansweep 11 firmly upright in his hand. Harry watched enviously as Ginny was the last athlete to walk out, her head held high despite the large scar that still covered half of her face. He would have given almost anything - including his Firebolt - to be down there instead of sitting in the stands watching. After a quick handshake from both captains, the game got to an exciting start with none other than Luna as their entertaining announcer for the game.

"Rightly used power play by Gryffindor up mid-pitch, Dean Thompson has the quaffle, throwing it- and it's good! Ten points to Gryffindor!" Cheers from the gold-and-red scarfed spectators erupted around the pitch, Harry included. That was almost a passable commentary by Luna Lovegood, until… "Oh, correction. It was _Thomas_. There is no Thompson playing. Or part of either team. I actually don't think there's even a Dean Thompson at Hogwarts."

The match had been vicious and high energy enough for Harry to forgive her awful announcing. Their fast-paced plays made up for her lackluster knowledge. Even though Gryffindor got a quick start, it wasn't long before Slytherin gained the lead by twenty points for a stable fifty to Gryffindor's rising thirty. A light rain had begun to fall in a thin sheet, mostly inconsequential to the lively crowd watching, but prickling the players faces as they dove and rolled through dramatic aerial maneuvers.

The Seekers zig-zagged briskly around the pitch, weaving back and forth to avoid players and the bludgers that threatened to end their game prematurely. With sharp speed to rival his opponent, Malfoy had jerked his broom upwards at the last moment to narrowly avoid getting unseated. From his altitude and velocity, the fall would've been detrimental to his team's chance.

Harry was disappointed that neither Malfoy nor Ginny were gaining any significant ground in catching the snitch, which placed more pressure on the chasers to adopt aggressive tactics and the keepers to meet them in kind. Having been in their position before, he knew they'd both be wanting to end this game as quickly as possible, especially as the rain started picking up.

Twirling on her broomstick as the bludger skimmed beside her, Demelza Robins turned sharply to her left and reverse passed back to the Gryffindor captain, Katie Bell. It was ground lost but moved the ball from a congested position to one with better upfield potential if Bell could prove to move fast in either passing or taking her chances to carry it.

Luna's amplified voice echoed around the pitch: "Smooth play there by Robins. She threw the ball over her shoulder. Not in the direction of the goal posts, but she looked good doing it."

Harry watched intently for the Snitch himself, when he saw a blurred flash of red and green soar high above the other players as the Seekers chased the snitch, their speeds battling against one another. The Snitch was too fast, however, and the crowd groaned when neither player reached it in time.

Moving his attention away from the seekers, the Slytherins' defense had proved themselves surprisingly talented that season, especially in flanked body blows, and Katie Bell didn't seem keen on experiencing it. A dramatically angled curve ball passed the quaffle from Bell to Thomas, and immediately from Thomas to Robins, who had fought to fly a distance away from the Slytherins power play to open herself up.

The Slytherins, seeing their opponent's forward maneuver, collapsed into aggressive defense patterns: Crabbe and Goyle sent a perfectly timed bludger towards Thomas to cut off any chance of back passing, while Zabini dashed across the pitch until the tip of his broom collided with the side of Robins.

"I'm supposed to now make vague references to Slytherin's defensive formation without ever explaining what that actually means." Luna paused. "Oh, I wasn't supposed to read that note aloud."

Harry shook his head with a smirk on his face; some day he was determined to find out exactly what went on in Luna's mind on a daily basis. He glanced across the pitch and saw Snape also giving a small smirk at the eclectic Ravenclaw's commentary, however Professor McGonagall did not look nearly as amused. At this point, the rain had started really pouring down and Harry noticed that while he was getting colder from the weather, all of his clothes and blanket stayed perfectly dry. He wrapped his blanket over his head to further protect him from the elements when he made contact with Snape's black obsidian eyes and silently thanked the professor for thinking ahead about things like the rain.

Focusing back on the game, Harry was happy to see that even with the bellicose tactic from Zabini, Robins wasn't shoved off-course enough to loosen her grip on the ball. The quaffle sailed sharply towards a goalpost in a knuckle ball throw, looking flawless and true but got knocked at the last moment by Slytherin's Keeper.

The teams rivaled one another well, each returning tic-for-tac. The grueling match roared on in a kaleidoscope of expertly executed plays that were met with impressive defenses. Eventually, though, the bludger bested Beater Ritchie Coote and his poorly timed swing, causing the ball to make contact with the edge of his bat and sent veering in the opposite direction he wanted. Directly towards the Slytherin and Gryffindor chasers Thomas and Vaisey. The two rivals, not expecting the ball to be suddenly sent their way, had the different ideas of how to avoid it. Thomas pitched to the left while Vaisey tried to turn sharply to the right. Their collision looked painful, stunning the two long enough to give the bludger opportunity to hit both of them and unseat them from their brooms. Silence descended on the pitch for a moment as they free fell from, luckily, their low-aerial positions. They both landed in a messy heap of robes and intertwined limbs that looked thankfully unbroken and retained their natural angles.

If there were any thoughts over whether they were injured, they were quickly dispelled when Vaisey abruptly got to his feet with an angry scowl, grabbed Thomas by the front of his robes, and yanked him to his knees long enough for him to throw a punch at his face.

Bells signifying a foul instantly blared as professors and referees rushed out on the pitch, yelling at the fighting boys to separate, and captains called an immediate time-out.

Luna cleared her throat. "I should make a comment about how nobody likes to see fighting in the game, but you probably can't hear it because the fans are cheering so loudly. Just pretend to be horrified like me."

Once back on their brooms and rejoined with their team, the foul was put against Slytherin for starting the brawl, which placed the ball back into Gryffindor's hands and allowed a foul throw. The players were forced to watch as Thomas and Slytherin's Keeper faced off one another, the former pitching the quaffle snappishly at the center goalpost. The throw seemed straight, convincing enough that the Keeper remained in the central pitch to intercept it. But the curve sprung late, and the quaffle turned itself sharply at the last moment, too late for the Keeper to correct his committed projectory.

Ten more points were added to Gryffindor and at this point, Harry knew both teams had to be dying for the Snitch to be caught. If he were out there, that would be exactly what he would be aiming to do - find the Snitch as quickly as possible before Slytherin could rack up anymore points. Their teams were too evenly matched at this point of the year for a game like this to be enjoyable in the current weather.

Hermione wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and he was just about to turn to her to say he was heading back when the crowd erupted around him. Malfoy and Ginny had both taken off for the Snitch heading towards the top of the stands directly above them. Harry held his breath when it appeared that Malfoy delayed his start too long and he ended up a full four meters behind Ginny on the race to win the game. Even on his fancier broom, Harry knew the blonde wouldn't be able to catch up from that distance. It took less than a minute for Ginny to make it to the top of the stands and catch the Snitch.

"Ooh," Luna called out nonchalantly as the crowd - specifically the Gryffindor's - cheered jubilantly, "it looks like Gryffindor just won the first game.

"The three star players of this match are..." There was the sound of paper shuffling. "Hmm… Ron Weasley, Vincent Crabbe, and Draco Malfoy. Which doesn't make any sense because I was only given thirty seconds to pick them."

Harry gave out a large laugh, completely ignoring the almost freezing rain that was now pelting against his face. He didn't care, it had been far too long since he'd felt this warm inside of him. There was something about being surrounded by his fellow housemates, celebrating a win like this that made everything else around him seem to disappear.

* * *

It was the young wizard's first time being back in the Gryffindor common room since his diagnosis, and while everything looked exactly the same - as he was sure it had for centuries - there was something that seemed different to him as he sat on the soft red sofa in front of the blazing fire. The Gryffindors were mid-celebration after their win against the Slytherins when Hermione sat down beside him with a book held tightly in her hands.

"You look tired," she said in a way that wasn't as insulting as it would have been coming from someone like Ron, but was more heartfelt.

"I am," he replied honestly, watching the people around the room dancing around. "I figured since I've pretty much been released from quarantine, I should be here, but it's been a really long day already."

He could tell there was something bothering his friend and a quick glance in the direction her eyes were watching made it obvious she was not ok with Ron and Lavender's rather public display of affection. Seeing his understanding, Hermione jerked her head down and pretended to read the book she'd brought over.

"When did that start exactly?" Harry tentatively asked the witch.

"I'm honestly not sure," she said with a look of disgust, "it was like one day they just were."

The two of them sat in silence, loud cheers surrounding them.

"You should tell him how you feel," Harry tensed, anticipating getting hit, jokingly of course, by her.

"It's fine," Hermione shrugged, something that was out of character for her, "I don't even know what it was I was feeling… does that make sense?"

In some weird way, it did to Harry. He thought back to his feelings about Cho last year and how confused he was about it in the end. This year, he had too many other things on his mind to think about girls and crushes, but that didn't mean it wasn't all around him. This was another prime example of how life had continued at Hogwarts without him.

"Did you find anything about… you know, the topic we discussed last week?"

He wasn't sure why he didn't want to say the word Horcrux out loud, but something deep inside of him told him it was something other people shouldn't know about. Luckily, Hermione caught onto what he was implying.

"No," she said with a look of deep concern on her face, "I've checked several books on ancient magical artefacts and now I'm working my way through magical theory books on the off chance Dudley was right about it being related to our magical cores."

He contemplated if he should tell Hermione where he'd read about the word. On the one hand - the only hand, really - Hermione had always been fundamental in their quest for knowledge on all of their many challenges since first year. As much as he hated to admit it now, she'd even been right about Voldemort sending him the false vision about Sirius, which went to show how good her intuition was.

"I think Dudley might be right," he eventually said, "about it being related to our magic. I really found that word in one of Severus's notes, and along with the note about it being a container he wrote that he thought it might be how I got the cancer in the first place."

Hermione's face lit up with this information for a second before she furrowed her brows in disappointment, "You should not invade his privacy like that, Harry."

_Totally knew this was coming._

"I know that, 'Mione," he said respectfully. "You have to trust me, this time it just kind of happened… but does that help you narrow down the search?"

"It narrows down why you can't ask him yourself," she gave him an exasperated look. "If Professor Snape thinks this… container… is related to how you got Leukemia, then it has to be in the magical theory books somewhere. When I was researching cancer in wizards, everything said that your magic should have been able to kill off the cancer before it took over. So if this container is what holds our magic, maybe yours is broken and that's why it didn't work?"

Her face gave Harry zero confidence that she actually believed what she'd just said. It was a start, though, and for Hermione, sometimes that was all it took.

Harry stayed up in the Gryffindor common room until dinnertime, but he spent the second half of the afternoon with the other Gryffindor wizards, which included Ron who was still practically attached to Lavender's side. Regardless, it was nice to simply spend time with his friends relishing in their win against the Slytherins. This was the first real weekend - besides the one after waking up from pneumonia - that he didn't have chemotherapy. And even though Monday's treatment would come too quickly, he wasn't going to let it get him down. Dean and Seamus tried to convince Harry to go to the Great Hall with them for dinner, but in the end Harry was simply too tired after the exciting day and told them he'd be back to hang out with them soon.

* * *

"Have fun celebrating your win?" Harry was asked the second he walked into the kitchen, causing the Gryffindor to jump.

Malfoy was sitting at the table that was set for two. Harry silently questioned if he was interrupting the two Slytherins' dinner and if he should have gone to the Great Hall with other Gryffindors.

"As a matter of fact," Harry replied, just a touch smugly, "we had an excellent time celebrating your loss."

"Very funny, Potter," Malfoy replied, sullenly. "Are you going to sit down?"

"I assumed this was for you and Severus," The Gryffindor said, sitting down in his usual spot. Upon a second glance, the table setting had his evening medications sitting out next to his plate so he should have known it was for him. Plus, in addition to his dinner, he also had a smoothie that he was still drinking daily in an effort to try to gain back some of his lost weight. "Great flying today, by the way. It was a nail-biter ending to see who would make it to the Snitch first."

"You don't have to be a git about it," the blonde retorted.

Something about the way Malfoy said it made Harry pause in his competitive banter. It wasn't meant as an insult and he was sure the other teen wouldn't take it as such; he was obviously wrong. Something had gotten to the Slytherin and Harry could finally see just how tired Malfoy appeared. Harry was once again forced to look beyond his own situation and try to think about how things had been from Malfoy's point of view.

"Sorry," Harry started with, "it was just a joke. What's going on?"

Taking a bite of his food, Malfoy replied, "It's nothing. Weasley's sister just out flew me today, is all."

Both boys sat there in an uncomfortable silence as they slowly ate through their plates of food.

"What's that?" Malfoy genuinely asked, pointing to his smoothie.

"It's to help me gain some weight," Harry replied. As if it were a suggestion, he took a sip from the goblet. "It's my new _doctor's_ initiative that I gain more weight."

"Have you seen yourself lately?" Malfoy declared. "In case you haven't noticed, you look dreadful. I'd say whatever this healer wants you to do, you should do it without question."

"I said doctor," Harry somberly corrected, "not healer. Healer Smithe was replaced with a muggle doctor."

_Why did I just tell Malfoy that?!_

"Oh that's right; Severus mentioned that. But you're a wizard," the Slytherin couldn't hide the insulting sound from his voice, "Skeeter's article only said you _could_ become a squib, you're not there yet are you?"

"Not yet," Harry mumbled too low for the other teen to hear him. This was a topic he had been struggling with since he found out he would be having a muggle physician going forward; it felt like everyone had already assumed he'd lost his magic and he was no longer worthy of a magical healer. He knew it wasn't logical at all, yet it didn't curb the anger and resentment that filled him up inside. The Gryffindor was so focused on his inner thoughts, he missed the insightful look Malfoy was giving him.

"Granger's been in the library searching through magical theory books like crazy," the Malfoy heir carefully said, "does it have anything to do with why you need a muggle healer?"

"You've noticed Hermione… reading books?" Harry sarcastically asked, questioning to himself why Malfoy would take notice of Hermione to begin with. "No offense Malfoy, but I would have hoped your observation skills would be better honed by now."

"You can be a complete git sometimes, you know that?" The Slytherin spat back. "What I meant is that she's nose deep in magical theory books at the same time you've got a muggle disease, a muggle doctor, and can't use your magic. It doesn't take Merlin himself to put the pieces together. I'm just wondering what she's looking for in there."

Deciding Malfoy was not the person to have this conversation with, Harry frowned and asked, "Where did Severus go?"

"Very subtle, Potter. He's meeting with the headmaster over something or other," the blonde answered, then he took a long sip of his pumpkin juice. "We were brewing, but he got called out."

"Oh yeah," Harry mocked, "the mysterious potion you're working on for the Order."

At that statement, it was Malfoy's turn to be caught off guard and he gave the Gryffindor an odd stare; one that made Harry feel particularly uncomfortable.

"What did I say this time?" Harry finally asked, feeling more than a little frustrated at having to navigate Malfoy's apparent moodiness.

"Severus told me this wasn't for the Order," the Slytherin said almost breathlessly. Harry could see the wheels turning in Malfoy's head as he was unknowingly putting together the pieces to the same puzzle Hermione was currently researching.

"Maybe it's not the same thing then."

"Do you really think that Professor Snape would have two mysterious potions he's working on?" Before Harry could respond, Malfoy lifted his hand, chuckled, and said, "never mind, he probably has more than either of us want to know about."

It was pretty much what Harry was going to say about it too. Since moving in with Snape, the young wizard tried not to think about what kinds of things the professor was working on in his laboratory. At the bare minimum, he was one hundred percent sure the man could easily kill someone by poisoning them without anyone being able to detect a thing. He shivered at that thought, but before he could continue asking Malfoy about what they were working on, Snape walked into the room.

"You're eating," the professor said, stating the obvious. Harry looked down at his empty plate; sometime while talking to Malfoy, he managed to finish eating - probably for the first time since starting chemotherapy - his entire dinner.

"I did!" Harry proudly said, before his face fell once again. "Just in time for another treatment on Monday."

~~~~SS~~~~

To say Severus was happy when he walked into the kitchen and saw Harry's empty plate would be an understatement; he was elated. Harry had always struggled to eat - even between chemotherapy rounds - simply due to a practically non-existent appetite; something that, deep down, Severus thought should have been handled by now. The professor couldn't help thinking back to all the times he'd expressed his concerns to Alton and the healer said everything was normal or that everyone reacted differently. A fire burned within him when he considered how much different Harry's treatment might have gone so far had they decided on the muggle Pediatric Oncologist to start.

Shaking his head of those "what if's" - knowing it was a dangerous game to play - he continued into his office with Draco in his wake. They had spent most of the afternoon preparing the potion for the Chimera Scales and he now needed to discuss with the blonde how picking up the illicit ingredient would work.

The door slammed behind Draco and he gestured for the teen to take the seat in front of his desk.

"Why would you get Potter a muggle doctor?"

Unfortunately, Draco had other plans for where their conversation would start. It was none of his Slytherin's business, however given their conversation earlier in the week regarding the boy's change of career path, he validated it with an answer.

"Dr. Swanson is a pediatric oncologist," he steepled his fingers while he sat tall and confident behind his desk, "since Harry is both a child and has cancer, it makes perfect sense to have that type of physician."

"But he's still a wizard."

Severus sighed in deep regret for the teen across from him. Life was not black or white; good or evil; magical or non-magical. It was a lesson he was coming into learning on his own, yet he still had a ways to go.

"I will not be discussing Harry's magical status with you," the professor dismissed and immediately cringed inside. A Slytherin like Draco would read between the lines of what he didn't say in that sentence - that Harry may not have a magical status to discuss at this point - so he played his own Slytherin tactic and changed the subject, "I spoke with the headmaster regarding your change of post-Hogwarts plans and he has agreed to allow you to assist Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing."

If Draco was surprised or angered by him taking the initiative to the headmaster, the teen did not react. Severus knew at a minimum he had to be calculating in his head where he could possibly add time to his already saturated schedule, and yet he didn't flinch. The former spy was proud of his protégé for being able to hold his emotions at bay.

"I think it will help in your decision about if healing is the right career path for you," the professor continued to explain.

"And when will I be starting this extracurricular activity _?"_ Draco asked indignantly.

"You'll do a little here and there, but it will pick up once the potion is completed at the end of this month," the former spy explained.

A dead silence fell between them and Severus knew the teen was ruminating within his mind.

"Do you think I can do it?" Draco uncharacteristically asked. It was highly un-Malfoy like to express any doubts in oneself, though Severus was extremely pleased to hear this development in the teen.

"Yes, Draco," Severus said confidently, "I think you will make an excellent healer given some direction and refinement. The good news is that should you change your mind and direction back towards a career in potions, or really any other discipline, you won't have lost any ground while exploring the arts of healing, as the two disciplines are so intertwined on one another."

The Malfoy heir was nervously wringing his hands together, reminding Severus so much of Harry. It was the posture both boys used when they were discussing a topic that made them uncomfortable.

"Everything will be ready for the Chimera Scales that we'll be picking up this Wednesday afternoon," he folded his arms across his chest and he started to explain the plan to Draco.

He'd arranged with Horace to excuse the blonde from his Potion's lesson after lunch. They would then meet at the entrance hall and the two of them would walk to Hogsmeade together where they would then disapparate straight to Knockturn Alley. If luck were on their side, they'd be back in the castle before dinner without too much fanfare. The Chimera Scales wouldn't be actually used until Friday - giving him and Draco plenty of time to prepare them - and if things really went south, the latest he could add them to the potion would be Sunday; after which he would need to start the potion over again. It would give him three additional days to find an alternative method for securing the illicit ingredient; it was less than ideal, but he could work within that time frame. In his experience though, once the contact set the date, the deal was pretty much done assuming the buyer had the right currency.

"What are you offering Matthew as payment for the Chimera Scales?" Draco asked, once he'd gone through most of the plan. "I imagine he'd have a high price for something like this."

"And how could you possibly know what Matthew's prices would be like?" Severus rhetorically asked.

He had no doubts that the teen had engaged in similar activities in this reality as his old one, yet he'd never actually been caught by the professor. The shocked face on the teen across from him was almost enough to make him give up what he knew from his old reality, alas he decided to keep that tidbit to himself... for now.

"You'd be surprised what other's place value in, Draco," he elusively continued. "While I happen to have my own stock of difficult to find or questionably legal ingredients I could have offered, it's a matter of finding the right payment for your specific seller. And I just so happened to know that Matthew is in need of Threstral saliva for an urgent project of his own, which Hagrid has graciously allowed me to go and collect."

The blonde gave a face of disgust to his professor and actually caused the former spy to give a small laugh.

"And yes," Severus added ominously, "that was as grotesque to collect as you would imagine."

* * *

The professor had originally planned to take off Monday for Harry's next round of chemotherapy, however the Gryffindor was adamant that he did not want Severus skiving class over it - almost his exact words this morning over breakfast - and therefore he wouldn't see the young wizard again until he stepped back into his quarters for lunch.

Minerva was sitting on the sofa - she had a break period before lunchtime that day and offered to stay with Harry - when he entered with his arms full of new essays to mark this week. Since he'd be giving an exam in almost all of his courses during the second half of the week, he was determined to complete his marking by Wednesday, also the day he'd be going to pick up the Chimera Scales with Draco, to try and stay ahead. Placing the rolled up parchment onto the sitting room table, he sank into his armchair, already knowing he would never be able to commit to that.

"Rough start, Severus?" The Transfiguration professor asked, not even lifting her eyes from her own marking she had been working on.

"Something like that," he replied. "How did this morning go?"

Harry's treatment was only two hours this morning and it felt like something was missing because he'd been gone through all of the treatment; he left before Madam Pomfrey came by for the blood test and returned after Dr. Swanson ended the chemotherapy.

"Molly said he did fine," the elderly witch communicated, completely unaware of how much the defense professor detested that word. "He's been asleep in his room since I've been here."

Severus furrowed his brows with a frown. That was particularly odd; Harry rarely slept after his treatments. He stood to go and check on the Gryffindor, except Minerva held her hand up to stop him.

"Let him sleep, Severus. I've just checked on him," she lectured. "Go eat lunch, then you can handle whatever it is you think is bothering you. Occasionally, you need to think of yourself first, and it won't do either of you any good waking that boy up right now."

She was right. Severus didn't like that fact, but he respected her enough to listen to her advice this time. So he made his way to the kitchen, making sure to have his sphere with him just in case.

On Monday's he had his own open period after lunch and decided to use that time - without his colleague present - to find out if anything was going on with Harry. He made a smoothie for the young wizard for lunch, and made his way to the Gryffindor's bedroom.

When his knock went unanswered, he pushed the door open and called out quietly so as not to wake the teen if he were indeed still asleep, "Harry? Are you alright?"

The lanterns in the corner were dimmed, but the sun was shining through the enchanted window casting a glow on the Gryffindor in his bed. Severus immediately noticed two things that were off the moment he entered the room: first was the acidic smell of vomit in the room, and the second was the labored breathing from Harry.

"Harry? I brought you a smoothie," he placed the goblet down on the desk. The young wizard was half way sitting up in the bed with his back turned towards the professor.

"No, thank you," the teen said with a shaky voice, not turning around or making much movement at all. Something was clearly wrong, Harry was still breathing heavily and Severus could now see his pyjamas shirt clinging to his chest from sweat.

"Are you alri-"

"I'm fine," Harry yelled, balling his bedspread into his fists. "Will you just leave me alone?!"

Reeling back as if he'd been physically hit by the verbal attack, the professor frowned and moved to stand directly behind Harry. From the angle where he stood, he could clearly see what the problem was even though the young wizard tried to turn further away. His bed and pyjamas were covered in yellow vomit, but most notably to Severus was the fact that Harry's unintentional magic did not assist in cleaning it up as had happened in the past when there had been similar accidents.

"What happ-" he started to ask, but was interrupted yet again.

"I was sleeping, alright?" Harry's eyes pleaded for him to understand how embarrassed this made the Gryffindor, "Can you go? I'll take care of this."

Deciding to take control of the situation, he pulled out his wand and vanished the sick from Harry's bed and pyjamas.

"Let's get you to the lavatory," he said while peeling away the blankets, intending to ask a house elf to get them to the wash, he reached down and helped Harry up from the bed.

Upon making it to the lavatory, Harry immediately started to sick up again, into the loo this time, and Severus noticed the lack of the black substance.

_That's certainly peculiar._

He pushed that observation to the side while he ran the warm water in the tub and then aided the Gryffindor in removing his clothing to his undergarments. Harry fussed about not needing the help, but Severus refused to leave until he was settled in the tub with the sphere next to him in case anything should happen before he was done. While Harry cleaned himself off, the professor went back into the teen's bedroom to freshen the air and remake the bed with new linens.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Harry," he explained, once the young wizard was back in bed trying unsuccessfully to drink the smoothie. "This is part of the treatments, you know that."

"What I know, is that it's easy for everyone else to say things like that," Harry angrily spat back. "Two days ago I was celebrating in the common room with my friends and today I wake up covered in my own fucking vomit! Try again, Snape, there's definitely something to be embarrassed about."

His heart broke at the despair radiating from Harry and being called by his surname drew his attention to how distraught the teen was over the incident. Something like this was bound to happen. They hadn't considered the possibility that Harry being around his friends might cause him to feel more isolated mentally than when he was physically quarantined away. Now the Gryffindor knew exactly what was going on without him; how life had kept moving and how it was like he was left standing still. It made days like today - what should have been an easier chemotherapy day - more difficult to handle when he was mourning the loss of the normalcy he'd felt all week.

Severus stayed besides Harry in complete silence until the ill wizard managed to fall back asleep. He dismissed Molly when she returned to watch over Harry and the professor didn't show up to his afternoon lessons; first year Ravenclaws with Hufflepuffs. In fact, he didn't move from Harry's bedside, using the time between Harry being sick to continue to add his theories and observations from the day, until Albus walked through the young wizard's bedroom door.

"You missed your afternoon class, Severus," the headmaster stood in the partially opened doorway. He was wearing an inquisitive expression on his face when he approached the bed. "And you've just about missed dinner. Was it a hard day for him?"

"Not in the way you're thinking," Severus whispered. "There were… other issues today."

He stood without saying another word and walked towards the door knowing Albus would follow in his wake. When both wizards were seated in the sitting room, Severus had the awful feeling of déjà vu; back to the day of Harry's funeral in his old reality when they both sat in these same positions, and Albus had brought him the red potion that would forever change his life.

"The black substance has gone," the defense professor broke the heavy silence between them. "I had noticed it getting lighter since it's discovery, however today there has been none."

"What do you make of it, my boy?" The headmaster didn't hide his curiosity over the observation that was made. "Could you have been incorrect in your assumption of its origins?"

"No," the professor replied with a grimace, "his unintentional magic has lessened as well, which still supports the idea that this dark magic - as I'm assuming it is - is directly correlated to his new magic."

"But," Albus motioned for him to continue.

"Except," Severus placed his notebook open-faced to a calendar showing Harry's treatment schedule and magic incidences, "if you'll notice, his magic was strongest during the harshest of his medications."

"We knew that already, Severus," Albus reminded the man in front of him.

"Yes, but now we know for sure," he pointed to the month of July, "he had none of this happening when he started chemotherapy, which I assumed was because there hadn't been enough build-up in the muggle medications yet, however you can see it dissipated again between the two hard weeks of phase one of consolidation, and has yet to return during this phase."

"What does that matter?"

"It confirms that we absolutely _can_ preserve his magical core!"

At that statement, the professor stood and started pacing while running his hands through his dark, still-greasy hair. It made perfect sense to him now; he knew what was going on within Harry and how they could use this to the Gryffindor's advantage going forward. In his mind, he contemplated the idea he had just fallen into. If the lighter - for lack of a better word - medications can't penetrate to the soul fragment's block, then that would essentially keep the block intact and protect his magic underneath. With only one set of hard medications coming up, should Harry start to reuse his magic during that time, it should be enough to get him through the last of the worst parts of chemotherapy. After that, the block wouldn't be touched again and Severus could work on removing the soul fragment, giving Harry access to his missing core filled with raw, untrained magic.

In short, the Gryffindor would sacrifice his first layer of magic to the harshest of the chemotherapy in order to keep the soul fragment intact. It would then leave him without magic until they managed to remove the soul fragment, but afterwards, he would be introduced to a reserve of raw, untouched magic potential.

This radical idea would be awful for the wizarding world as a whole, since the Dark Lord would be unable to be killed prior to the destruction of the Horcrux - Harry - nevertheless Severus didn't give a damn about the supposed prophesy and Harry's "destiny" to kill the Dark Lord. If they wanted to place their future in the hands of a child, they would have to wait until Harry was done with chemotherapy and his new magic retrained. After all, Severus's responsibility was to the teenager sleeping in the next room over, and he would do whatever it took to protect him. The professor lifted his head to see the headmaster's very confused eyes watching him intently, knowing that the man before him would vehemently disagree with the idea of intentionally letting the Dark Lord continue to gain power.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Black Market
> 
> Next update will be probably be Monday. Don't be fooled, while Snape may have all the pieces of this puzzle he needs, there's still so much to come!


	46. The Black Market

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the reviews! If you're still a little confused about Harry's magic and the horcrux/soul piece, it's alright. As Snape starts sorting through all the information in the upcoming chapters, it will all start to come together. I'm trying to keep his learning process as realistic as possible, but he's finally getting there.

~~~~HP~~~~

As if having been woken up to vomiting in his bed on Monday wasn't embarrassing enough, when Harry tried to go to Tuesday's Herbology lesson - which was held in the first period of the day - he didn't make it very long before he ran from the greenhouse still sick to his stomach. In his embarrassment and panic, he barely registered the snickering of his Slytherin classmates, or the fact that Ron and Hermione followed him, without even the start of an explanation to Professor Sprout for his sudden dismissal from class. He'd only made it to the grassy lawn barely outside of the greenhouse before he fell to his knees and started heaving. Hermione kneeled down beside him, not caring that the front of her robe had gotten soaked from the cold morning dew that still coated the grass under their knees, and Ron stood trying to block his two friends from view as students with a morning free period were walking by.

"It's alright, Harry," she told him softly into his ear.

"Thanks, 'Mione," he replied, with a scratchy voice, except it was not alright. The ill wizard had no idea how he was going to walk back into his classroom with his head held high this time. "You guys didn't have to follow..."

Standing up on trembling legs, Harry made his way back to the greenhouse, his head hung in shame, where Professor Sprout didn't even pause her review of poisonous plants in preparation for their exam on Thursday. The trio fell silently back into their places at the table they shared with Neville, Hannah Abbott, and Ernie Macmillian. Harry continued his work without making eye contact with anyone else throughout the rest of the class.

Since both of his classes on Tuesday were before lunch, Harry went to the library with Hermione during their morning break between the two class periods, while Ron and Lavender ran off to wherever it was they went for some privacy. Harry was envious of his friend, but didn't say so to anyone.

"It doesn't bother me," Hermione told him the moment the redhead took off.

"I didn't say it did," Harry replied, giving his friend a smirk and a sideways glance.

"Are you sure you want to finish classes today?" She asked him once they were set up at a secluded table in the library. "Professor Flitwick will understand if you're not there today."

Harry shook his head violently, "I know you don't understand, Hermione, but I need to be in class."

Harry took out his Transfiguration book, parchment, and quills to start on the essay that had been assigned from McGonagall's lesson he missed yesterday. Hermione had uncharacteristically slammed down a large book in frustration.

"I couldn't find a single thing in any of the magical theory books about-" she lowered her voice to Harry, " -horcruxes. So there's nothing in magical artefacts, nothing in magical theory, and I'm running out of ideas."

"There's no way you could have gotten through all of those," he motioned to the pile of textbooks in front of her.

The glare the Gryffindor witch gave him said he was absolutely wrong and she had, in fact, somehow managed to do that much research on top of her normal studies. Harry found himself once again envious of her ability to retain information.

"I'm starting to think Ron was right that it's probably something classified as dark magic," she grudgingly admitted. "That would at least explain why I can't find a single thing about it."

The Gryffindor wizard sighed; he'd been afraid of that too. It wasn't as if nothing related to Harry could be dark magic, seeing as he was hit with, and survived, the killing curse there was bound to be some kind of dark magic surrounding him.

"So what's next?" He asked, because if Hermione couldn't find anything, what were the odds a book even existed with the information? It was very possible that Snape knew what it was from stories he'd heard either growing up or as a Death Eater. That last thought caused Harry to shiver.

"You could just ask Professor Snape, however I get the feeling you really don't want to go down that road," she then hesitantly continued, "I would check the restricted section, except I have really no good reason to ask for a pass right now."

The look Harry gave the witch was almost comical. After six years together, he didn't know how Hermione could be so innocent sometimes. How was she the same witch that secretly and illegally brewed Polyjuice potion as a second year in the abandoned girl's lavatory?

"Hermione," he slyly addressed her, "since when has that stopped us before? I could lend you my dad's cloak, if you're up for it. Or I'm sure Ron would do it if you gave him some direction, but that would mean speaking with him again. I'd go myself, only I guarantee you I can't leave without Severus's wards going off."

Hermione took a minute to consider what Harry was offering. She'd never used his cloak alone, and it felt wrong to do things that way compared to when Harry was with her.

"I'll come down with you after Transfiguration and pick it up," she leaned in to whisper, completely unaware that it did nothing to stop the person who had been listening in on their entire conversation from the other side of the bookcases behind them.

* * *

For some reason, Snape had decided to have dinner in their quarters that night, which surprised the Gryffindor. Unless it was a chemotherapy day, Harry usually either ate alone or with his friends, and while he _could_ have started eating meals in the Great Hall again, after the day he had today he really wanted to be alone. And Snape had just ruined that plan.

"Professor Sprout told me you were ill in her class today," Snape said after he placed Harry's evening medication down next to his smoothie. "Is that why you aren't going to the Great Hall tonight? I would have expected you to be thrilled to go back this week."

"I just didn't feel like it, that's all," Harry sharply replied. "You said I could go when I was ready. I'm not."

His dinner of beef stew warmed him from the inside out, but felt heavy on his still tender stomach. At some point Harry assumed he would get to the point where he wouldn't have to overanalyze everything he ate - was he eating too much or too little, would it sit well if he sicked up later, was it something that would interact with his medications - but from his current vantage point, that day was too far away. Instead it felt like he would forever be stuck playing this role of the 'sick kid' who was always needing special exceptions and was left behind.

"I'm worried about you, Harry," Snape said, and something in his voice - maybe fear- touched the young wizard deep within his core. On any normal day it would have been a feeling of elation, but today it burned.

Harry wanted to ignore the concern in the depths of the professor's black eyes, so he refused to look up from his bowl of stew. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint the man in front of him. Then, to give himself some extra time, he took a large sip of his water and took his tablets - three at a time as he'd gotten so good at taking them by now - before he finally had to make eye contact. His heart was pulled by the pain that was evident in the man he viewed as his parent, at this point more so than even Sirius if he were honest with himself. But no matter how much he wanted to talk to the professor across the table, to tell him about the constant snickering and ridicule he heard behind his back, he couldn't will his brain, to tell his voice, to say the words. There was no way he could add to the man's stress when he was already shouldering so much for the Gryffindor; it wasn't fair to the professor. So what if he'd been his adopted father in another world? This wasn't what the man had signed up for when he took whatever it was - had Snape actually ever told him? - to come here. He'd wanted his son back, and what he got instead was a sixteen year old with more issues than anyone would want to handle.

"I'm fine," Harry managed to hold his cringe in when he said that lethal word, and he knew Snape would never believe him.

"Maybe you should consider taking the morning after chemotherapy off as well," Snape carefully suggested. It was probably what he would have done had his own Gryffindor pride not gotten in the way. Harry followed Snape's eyes as he looked at the chemotherapy schedule that was posted next to the shelf overfilled with his tablet medication bottles. "It wouldn't be too many extra days out of class and if it prevents-"

"I said I'm fine!" Harry yelled. There was something about Snape suggesting he take more time off school that broke the dam of anger welling up inside of him, "What do I have to do to prove that to you? Do you want me to move back up to the tower? Would that do it? Because I don't care what you think you see going on here, I. Am. Fine!"

At that point, Harry stood up from the infuriating energy filling inside of him, "So what if I had to leave in the middle of class today? I'm perfectly fine with that!"

Not wanting to continue this discussion a second longer, Harry forcibly pushed his chair in and stormed from the kitchen, into his bedroom where he slammed the door closed in his wake. He didn't want to study or do his homework and he was far too angry to sketch, so instead he did the only thing he could think of to burn through the excess energy and he started pacing. It was somewhere on his fifth or sixth lap around his room that there was a hard knock on his door and, without waiting for permission to enter, Snape stormed in.

"Sit down," the dark haired professor sternly said, pointing to the bed making it clear he was in charge of this conversation. To this, Harry listened and sat on his bed with a defiant look upon his face. "I understand that you are probably still embarrassed over yesterday's events-"

"You-"

"Do not interrupt me," Snape argued, before Harry could get a second word out.

The infuriated Gryffindor firmly closed his mouth into a hard line, to prove the point that he would not be saying another word.

"I've given you ample time to get through what happened yesterday," Snape practically yelled at him, "and I haven't a clue of what exactly went on in Herbology as you refused to discuss it, but either way, you are to show me some respect in my quarters. Is that understood?"

Again, Harry said nothing; he didn't even try to avert his eyes.

"I said, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, with the air defiance still around him while both wizards faced off at one another.

"Good, now go to bed!"

Snape turned and stormed out of his room with the same ferocity as he stormed in only a few moments ago. Harry stood as if to go after the man, but only made it two steps. He yelled in frustration, as loud as his cracked voice would allow, picked up the first thing he could find - the sphere that was sitting on his bedside table - and threw it at the enchanted window, causing the window to now appear cracked down it's left side. Staggering backwards until his back hit the wall just to the left of his bathroom door, the young wizard slid down the wall with a hard _thump_ when his bottom met the stone floor, and he started to cry.

_What have I done?_

* * *

**_Wednesday 6, November 1996_ **

Wednesday morning was so dark and dreary that when Harry first opened his eyes he was sure his enchanted window had stopped working from the sphere hitting it the night before. Instead, while the crack was still there - he'd have to ask Hermione at their Transfiguration tutoring today if she could fix it - the picture showed the grounds out by the black lake blanketed in a dark, angry fog; not too unlike to how he felt inside that morning. It wasn't surprising that the Gryffindor hadn't slept well; his fight with Snape sat heavy on his mind as he tossed and turned into the early hours of the morning. Of course, out of all the days for him to have this type of argument with the professor, it had to be the night before he had Defense class with the man this morning.

As if class with Snape wasn't bad enough, Wednesdays were one of Harry's harder days, which did nothing to help his aggressive mood. In addition to his morning defense class - apparently the sixth years were destined to only have Snape first thing in the mornings - he also had Potions after lunch, and Transfiguration tutoring before dinner. While Potions class wasn't nearly as difficult using Snape's old textbook full of helpful notes and alternations, Slughorn made the class tedious and boring, so Harry was absolutely not looking forward to it in his current state of mind.

Getting up quietly from his bed, Harry showered and got dressed before sneaking his way into the kitchen. Lately Snape had been eating breakfast up in the Great Hall, which the professor not so subtly reminded Harry last night that he could now do, but just in case, the young wizard moved as silently as possible. When he turned the corner to an empty kitchen, he audibly sighed in relief. He would get to delay the inevitable confrontation just a little bit longer. Having missed dinner last night, Harry would have thought his stomach would be hungrier than it was, but just the sight of his scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast turned it sour immediately. Taking a single bite of each of the items on his plate, he pushed it away and collected his school bag ready to head to class where he would have to face the man he'd been wanting to avoid. For a brief moment, as he made his way through the deserted corridors of the dungeon - everyone must have been upstairs at breakfast - he considered skiving off and heading to the library instead or hiding out in Gryffindor common room. In the end though, he stood tall as he headed into the classroom and waited for the awful class to start.

Luckily, Snape was just as willing to ignore their latest row as Harry was, however that didn't necessarily mean that class went smoothly. Instead, the professor decided not to acknowledge Harry in any way besides collecting his essay and pairing him with Neville for their practical lessons. Harry was still using his wand inverted to prevent any accidental use of magic, causing his sour mood to dampen even further as he watched everyone around him - including Neville - successfully complete their assigned task. He left that morning feeling lower than he had after any other class in the past six years.

During potions class the Gryffindor found himself wishing he could go back to tutoring with Malfoy instead of standing at the laboratory table preparing his ingredients for the Dreamless Sleep potion. It just seemed easier for him to concentrate when he wasn't worrying about his cauldron literally blowing up in his face because he didn't ground his lavender leaves fine enough. Not to mention, that in N.E.W.T level potions, everything was done independently; something that Harry struggled with since, while he managed to get the appropriate mark on his own to get into the class to begin with, he still liked having another person to bounce his questions off of during the practical lessons.

His thoughts quickly moved from his lavender preparation to none other than Malfoy. Harry didn't remember seeing the other teen enter the classroom with everyone else after lunch. He peered around the room and quickly confirmed that the Slytherin was indeed missing from the class and wondered where he could be. As with almost every Defense lesson, Snape had asked Malfoy to stay after class - Harry may have felt a touch jealous, though he would never admit to such a fact - and now the young wizard wondered if Snape was somehow involved with the blonde's sudden disappearance from one of his favorite classes.

"Harry?" The whisper from Hermione was just loud enough to get his attention from the table to his left.

"What?" He whispered back to his friend, while trying to avoid alerting Slughorn to their covert conversation.

Apparently, he hadn't been quiet enough, since Slughorn lifted his head to address the class, squinting his eyes and said, "Quiet down everyone, you should all be working independently right now."

Harry rolled his eyes; it seemed like nothing could go his way this week. He peered back over to Hermione, and she made a motion like checking her watch. Apparently she somehow knew he was behind in his brewing, which of course he was because he was having such a hard time focusing on remembering he needed to do next.

_What was I doing again?_

The Gryffindor rubbed his forehead trying to clear his head from the cobwebs that felt as if they blanketed every corner of his mind.

_The lavender!_

The next step in the potion was to add the lavender. Now that he was feeling back on track, he was just about to put the lavender into his cauldron when something sharp hit him on his right shoulder. Deciding it was best to ignore the problem, Harry closed his eyes and counted to ten, as he tried to hold back his growing temper inside of him. Back to his cauldron, once the lavender was added he started stirring when he was hit yet again from behind, this time with a slimy eel eye, directly to the back of his head.

At this point, there was no use in trying to ignore the problem because it was obviously not going to go away. Harry cringed as he remembered who was at the two tables directly behind him - Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson. Those two particular Slytherins had been giving him problems since the day he'd returned back to classes. At first he did what he had always done and ignored them, however their taunting had increased significantly in the last two days, after Harry had missed classes Monday and then his sudden need to leave the greenhouses yesterday.

The Gryffindor reached inside his robes and fingered his wand, but stopped when he remembered that he wasn't supposed to use magic. It didn't seem to matter to him that he also wasn't supposed to hex anyone in class because he was fully prepared to defend himself, if he felt that he needed to. Hermione's swift movements to his left caught his attention yet again, and she gave him a small shake of her head, then gestured back to Slughorn, who appeared to be lost in his own thoughts.

Harry went back to focusing on his potion, but it was less than five minutes later when he felt someone brush up against his back causing Harry to immediately go into a defensive stance by pulling his wand as he turned quickly around.

"Oi Potter! Feeling a little paranoid today?"

It was Nott who had walked behind him on his way to the potions cupboard. The Slytherin may have appeared innocent to those standing by, but Harry just knew his intentions were nefarious.

"What is the meaning of all of this?" Slughorn called from his desk up at the front of the classroom. "Mr. Potter, put your wand away this instant or I'll be forced to give you a detention."

"Sorry sir," Harry mumbled, placing his wand back in the inside of his robe, in a convenient location should he need it quickly later on in class.

"From what I hear, there's not much you can really do with that thing anyway. Might as well use it as firewood," Nott taunted. Harry kept a close eye on the Slytherin as he walked away towards the cupboard.

 _Focus_ , the Gryffindor reminded himself. He needed to stay focused on finishing his assignment, otherwise he'd fail the day and this was a class he should do well in given that he didn't really need any magic; he just needed to focus and that was something that was far too difficult for him lately.

Later, Harry would say he wasn't exactly sure what had happened when Nott was heading back to his laboratory table from the potions cupboard, but it would be a flat out lie. No matter what his current animosity towards Snape was, the Gryffindor wasn't about to cause any more open issues between himself and the Slytherins that would put Snape stuck in the middle between them. Merlin himself knew he already had issues of his own with Snape without having to add a duel between him and one of his snakes. What Harry did know, for sure, was that as he was slicing his Valerian roots - thinking back to that first true Occlumency lesson with Snape - Nott chose that time to aggressively 'bump' into him from behind, using what felt like an elbow to Harry's thin rib cage. In addition to the now sharp, radiating pain from the Gryffindor's side, it inevitably caused his right hand to slip and his extremely sharp potion's knife to glide across the section between his left index finger and his thumb, slicing it as easily as his Valerian roots had been sliced. Harry yelped out in pain as he dropped his knife and immediately wrapped his hand in his robes. The cut was deep, a testament to the sharpness of his knife, and he had no idea what to do about it.

"Professor Slughorn!" Hermione called out at the sight of Harry's bleeding hand, though everyone had already heard his yell.

At the same time, Ron ran up behind Harry - who flinched at the sudden movement - and shoved Nott over the table before both boys ended up pulling their wands at one another.

"Move out of the way," the professor called as he sauntered, slower than Harry would have liked, waving his hands in the air. "Both of you will put those wands away before you get double detentions."

"Did you see what he-" Ron started yelling.

"I didn't do anything-"

"Like anyone believes anything a snake like you says!"

Harry tuned out the full blown yelling match between Ron and Nott as his hand continued to bleed profusely and his side was feeling sore and achy. While Dr. Meghan had said his blood counts wouldn't plummet with the time between chemotherapy, she also said the medications would drop them right after the treatments. Was two days enough for his platelet counts to rebound enough? Based on how much blood was pooling in his robe, he assumed not. He needed to get to Madam Pomfrey, and quickly.

"Isn't his disease in his blood?" He heard someone - a girl, maybe Pansy Parkinson - call out. "He's going to infect-"

"Professor?" The injured Gryffindor interrupted hoping his trembling voice could block out Parkinson's loud shrill one.

"Here we are, Mr. Potter," the professor walked up to him holding a bottle of potion. "Nothing a little Essence of Dittany-"

"No!" Hermione yelled. It drew everyone's attention away from Harry and onto her. "He can't use that, Professor. He needs to go to the hospital wing!"

Finally, that seemed to get Slughorn's attention to the severity of the situation.

"Oh, oh yes," Slughorn shook his head, "Thank you, my dear. Ms. Granger, please help Mr. Potter up to the hospital wing, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will be able to handle that."

Harry had never been more glad to be headed to the hospital wing. The walk up was quiet and the wizard could only imagine the things Hermione was ruminating in her mind about what had happened. He couldn't care less about anything that happened with Nott, so long as he had a place he could rest - because for some reason he was suddenly exhausted - and his hand was healed.

"You need to tell Professor Snape what happened," Hermione quietly said, as they approached the hospital wing.

"I don't have to tell anyone, anything," it was an immature response and reminded him too much of his argument with Snape, but Harry didn't care one bit. He kept telling himself that he could handle the other students as he did every other year when there had been issues like this. "Just leave it alone, 'Mione."

"Harry, you don't-"

"I'm fine," he interrupted what he assumed was going to be some heartfelt explanation about how he doesn't have to do this alone. That sounded all fine and good, except no one really understood what he was going through. Gesturing to the door of the hospital wing, he added, "Go back to class, I think I can make it from here."

Without looking back at the Gryffindor witch, he opened the door with his non-injured right hand and left her staring speechless as the door closed behind him.

"Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. "You've been back to classes for less than a fortnight and you're already here? I think this is some kind of record for you."

Harry wanted to disagree, but decided it wasn't worth it.

"Potions knife," he said while holding his hand out, as if that fully explained the situation. "Do you know anything about stitches?"

Harry walked over to the closest bed, happy to finally get off his feet because he was starting to get light-headed, and held his hand out for Madam Pomfrey to examine. It was still actively bleeding, though Harry could convince himself it had slowed, but the cut was deep.

"Unfortunately not," the medi-witch said. With a wave of her wand, the excess blood had cleared showing just the cut with whatever new blood was coming through. "You had chemotherapy on Monday correct?"

The Gryffindor nodded to her question and leaned back against the bed; he really wanted to go to sleep right there. Madam Pomfrey conjured up some bandages and wrapped Harry's hand tightly.

"Let me go get Dr. Swanson," the medi-witch huffed. "And I'm sure Severus will want to hear about this, too."

 _Great, just what I need right now._ He'd thought sarcastically, but deep down that was exactly who he wanted there with him.

Closing his eyes, Harry breathed through the pain. He should have just told Madam Pomfrey to use magic to heal it; what difference would it really make in the end anyway? A little magic here or there couldn't really affect his magical core that much, they were letting him use it for his magical testing so he didn't see why she couldn't heal his cut. Though now that the young wizard thought about it, he didn't have a magical test before this last round of chemo.

_I wonder why they skipped that one?_

"I have to go to the hospital and pick up your doctor," Madam Pomfrey quickly said. "We'll need to find another solution going forward because this will _not_ work if there's an emergency."

"Where's Severus?"

"He's apparently away from the castle at the moment," the medi-witch casually said, like it was normal for the man to be gone in the middle of the week.

"Where did he go?" Harry furrowed his brows in confusion. The matron was continuing to clean out the wound and was bandaging it back up. "Can I just give you permission to heal this with magic so I can go on my way?"

"Absolutely not! I'm under strict instruction not to use magic on you without Severus's approval," she lectured. "You are to stay right here until I return with Dr. Swanson."

After the medi-witch left, Harry held his wounded hand to his chest and tried not to let the anger and embarrassment consume him. He'd been minding his own business, all he wanted was to do his work, and Nott had to go and ruin everything.

_I should have hexed his arse._

It was with that thought that Madam Pomfrey came back with a very angry looking Dr. Meghan.

"What exactly is a potions accident?" The muggle doctor asked indignantly. She pulled up a tray next to his bed and started taking out a wide range of equipment she would apparently need to examine his wound.

"This is hardly the worst accident that could have happened in potions class," the Gryffindor tried to joke, but his doctor gave him a glare that told him she didn't find it the least bit funny. There was an awkward silence as she continued to examine his hand.

"It looks like you need at least a couple of stitches," Dr. Meghan reported. She pulled out the muggle supplies and then turned to Madam Pomfrey, "Would you like me to show you how to do this?"

As Dr. Meghan walked the matron through how the process would be done, Harry wasn't paying attention to a single word. His mind was miles away wondering where Snape could be and what he could possibly be doing away from the safety of the castle wards. In that moment he had time to reflect on the rough start to the week for the pair of them, beginning with his slight attitude Monday from the vomiting incident through last night's row, even though he was fully aware that it was unfair to Snape. It wasn't as if the professor belittled him or mocked him over his situation on Monday - quite the opposite actually, the man had been understanding and helpful - so Harry's current animosity to his mentor wasn't really a rational one. It was simply that the young wizard had been feeling down about his situation: about the cancer, about his magic, about being behind in his classes, and even about Voldemort. All of it was closing in on him from every direction and he had started to feel helpless in the many faceted battles he was facing. With all of his inner turmoil going on within, he decided to try to stay focused on the immediate problems - which did not include the two women stitching up his hand - it was questioning where Severus was and hoping he was safe doing whatever it was he thought he needed to do outside the safety of the castle.

Harry was so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed the two women's faces looking at him as if he'd grown an extra set of arms. He also hadn't noticed himself wheezing every time he inhaled.

"H..r..y?"

The young wizard saw Dr. Meghan's lips move as if she were saying his name and he strained to hear her voice, but it was almost as if his muggle doctor was submerged underwater. Why couldn't he hear a single thing she was saying?

"I… I..."

He wanted to tell them not to worry, that he was alright now, except he never got to because his vision started to tunnel and shortly after that, he passed out in the bed of the hospital wing.

~~~~SS~~~~

Landing directly in Knockturn Alley always caused Severus some degree of uneasiness. Being intimately familiar with the particular clientele that normally frequented this part of the wizarding world market place, he was keenly aware of how quickly danger could creep upon him on any given visit. The fact that Draco was with him on this specific quest did nothing to help his wariness.

After his revelation about Harry's magical cores and the soul fragment's ability to protect the new magic, Severus was more determined than ever to get the answers they needed in order to make a quick and logical decision. At some point in the near future, he'd have to tell Harry what was going on, and if he didn't have as many answers as possible it would potentially make the Gryffindor's outlook on his situation worse than it already was lately. Somehow, going back to classes seemed to have the opposite effect on Harry; instead of helping to ease his mind, it seemed to cause more conflict within it. This afternoon, Severus would have to put that row far behind his Occlumency shields so he could focus on the task in front of them without any distractions; the alternative could unfortunately be fatal.

The two Slytherins walked side-by-side down the steep steps into the depths of the dark alley, keeping a close eye for anything that would be considered too out of place. Matthew would be meeting them in the alleyway between Nightowls and Gundovald's Apothecary, where the other man wouldn't be out of place should he be seen given his profession, however it also meant it was a place that Matthew would be more comfortable with than Severus. In an effort to even the playing field, the former spy arrived a whole half hour early to make sure there would be no surprises waiting for them at their meeting place or any of the shops nearby. He wanted this to be clean, quick, and preferably painless.

Severus chose a random muggle to impersonate the last time he was at the pharmacy to pick up Harry's refill of his tablet medications. Luckily, the former Death Eater had the kind of stature that would prevent someone from wanting to pick a fight with him, even after he randomly plucked a hair from the stranger's head, and the man appeared as if he wanted to hit the professor. Today before disapparating from Hogsmeade to London, he took a large drink of that vile sludge - bringing along an extra two doses, unsure how long this would take - thinking that if anyone could come up with a better tasting formula for Polyjuice, that person would be set for life. He'd felt himself transform, a feeling no one ever got used to no matter how many times they'd done it, into another man that Matthew would hopefully not think twice at purchasing Chimera Scales without any documentation.

"We're clear," the disguised professor called to the blonde student next to him. They'd arrived at the meeting spot and Severus confirmed nothing was out of order. "Now we wait."

Severus could tell that Draco was doing his best to appear in control of his emotions. The teen held his hands, balled into fists, at his side as he took large deep breaths to calm his nerves. It brought the former spy back to his first "deal" he ever made. He had been a freshly marked Death Eater, like Draco, tasked at making a potion that was basically a modified version of Veritaserum. It would torture the victims with electrical shocks for no real reason Severus could ascertain, while forcibly making them tell the truth. The assignment required him to gain possession of several ingredients he wouldn't be able to get unless he were working for a legitimate Potions Master - which he was not yet at that time - and therefore he'd needed to go about it as he and Draco were about to do. Now over a decade later, the details were not as clear as they had been, but he would never forget how nervous he was to approach the man in the dark alleyway that could have easily sent him to Azkaban.

"What if he doesn't show?" Draco tried to hide his own fear within the question.

"He'll show," Severus replied, "I have it on good authority that he's in need of what I'm about to give him."

"Why does he need it?"

Severus internally cringed at the question the teen had asked. It was a rookie question that would get the blonde killed some day if he wasn't set straight.

"You never ask," the former spy lectured his protégé, "just as he did not inquire about my need for the scales. Had he required that information, we would not be here."

Draco nodded as he picked up on the implied reasoning behind never asking or telling the project you're working on. Severus hoped, with everything he had, that they'd finally be able to kill the Dark Lord long before Draco had to get too involved. Somehow through his Occlumency shields slipped the fact that the dark wizard could not be killed before Harry was no longer a Horcrux. And if they were going to conserve any of Harry's magical core, the soul fragment could not be removed, making his hope for Draco very unlikely.

_And that's even assuming we know how to remove the soul fragment._

It was a problem for another day, and another benefit to compartmentalization. If Severus started to think about the problems he had to solve further down the road, it would be too overwhelming. Instead, he tried to stay focused on the problem directly in front of him and right now it was the fact that they were still waiting.

"He's late," Severus stated the obvious. He turned to look around the dark alleyway in hopes of finding the wizard that had the ingredient he desperately needed and hoping not to find anything that would spell out trouble for the pair of Slytherins.

"Maybe he's not coming," Draco reiterated, a little more frustrated this time. Severus could tell it was his fear causing his impatience, not his anger from potentially wasting his time. "Maybe he couldn't get the goods. I told you he was dodgy bloke, at best. It wouldn't shock anyone if his deal fell through."

"Draco Malfoy," a dark voice surprised the teen both with his presence and the use of his name out loud; another rookie mistake the former spy wouldn't expect from someone of Matthew's experience. "I didn't realize you thought so little of me. I'll have to remember that when Daddy finally manages to come crawling out of Azkaban looking for any way to stop the phantom screams that will forever haunt him in his head. Somehow I get the feeling he'll need more than a little _Dragon Dust_ to quiet them."

Matthew may have gotten the impression that he'd snuck up on his buyers, yet Severus had seen him coming the moment he stepped foot in the alleyway. Unfortunately - or fortunately for them - the former spy found that if their seller had a false sense of confidence, things tended to go in his favor. Therefore, Severus may have given Draco the impression that Matthew's delay was cause for worry.

Stepping out of the shadows, Severus - still disguised as the muggle with a square jawline, dark brown short hair, green eyes, and as far from looking like Severus Snape as he could find, while still having an aura around him that showed he knew what he was doing - grabbed the back of Draco's neck and not-so-gently moved the teen out of the way.

"It's me you're dealing with today," Severus darkly said. He did not offer the other wizard his hand as the man who had the precious ingredient looked the professor up and down, judging if this was the type of person who could turn around and rat him out to the Aurors. To help build his credibility, he roughly tossed Draco aside and said, "I suggest you stay out of the way, child."

Matthew raised his chin quickly, "And how do you two know each other?"

The disguised former Death Eater took a risk and replied, "We both work in the same… circle."

The muggleborn Slytherin made it obvious when he picked up on the implication by veering his line of sight to Severus's Dark Mark, which could not be covered by the Polyjuice potion. The skittish man then turned and peered towards Draco's left forearm, to which the blonde flexed, confirming the mark's presence.

"Are you prepared?" Severus, who wanted to move this along so he could get back to the safety of Hogwarts, pulled three large phials from his inner cloak pocket. "I expect you'll find these to your satisfaction."

Matthew went to grab the phials, but Severus pulled them back at the last second. He knew better than to give up his payment before confirming the other man had his product. With a shaking hand, Matthew pulled a package and opened it to reveal seven scales that started as a blazing orange on top and slowly turned into jet black on the edges and bottom. They were legitimate Chimera Scales and exactly what he needed to complete the potion. Much to the professor's surprise, Matthew held out the package for Severus to take.

_This man would not have lasted a week as a Death Eater._

With the scales now in his possession, he handed off the phials of saliva and grabbed Draco by the arm to get them out of there as quickly as possible.

"Draco," the seller called, just as they were reaching the edge of the alleyway. "Tell your new _Lord_ 'hello' for me. I hear he's been living with your mother. Imagine her surprise if she found out you'd been taken out of school for something like this."

That time, the Malfoy heir could not keep the fear from creeping into the features on his face. His grey eyes went wide and Severus could feel his breathing start to shallow. With one more firm push, he got Draco moving so they could get back to a place to safely apparate back to Hogsmeade and then go back to the safety of the castle.

* * *

"What the bloody hell was he talking about?!" Draco exclaimed, the moment they stepped foot through the Hogwarts gates. "That sure as hell sounded like a threat to my mother! I thought he wasn't working for the Dark Lord?"

Severus was expecting the questions and was all prepared to answer, however now that he was within the wards of the school, his own personal wards were blaring to him that something was wrong with Harry. As expected, they returned right around dinnertime, so what could possibly have happened to the Gryffindor in the few hours they'd been gone?

"Follow me," he said to Draco, taking large strides towards the castle. He knew he should wait until the Polyjuice potion wore off, however he didn't have time for that.

"What's wrong? Where are we going?"

"To the hospital wing," the professor replied, "And I did not think Matthew was working with the Dark Lord, however having lost his brewer, it's possible he might be that desperate to seek the mediocre work of that imbecile."

Draco stopped momentarily allowing about two meters to separate him and his mentor as he thought about what that meant for his unique position. Running to catch the former spy, he asked, "He's not marked though, right?"

"As far as I know, he's not. However, not all Death Eaters carry the mark."

"Severus, stop!" the blonde called out, which finally got the professor's attention as he was about to enter the castle. "Someone needs to check on my mother."

It was an impossible request. Albus couldn't really send a member of the Order of the Phoenix to Malfoy Manor where the Dark Lord's headquarters were, especially when the headmaster didn't know Severus had been to see Matthew in the first place. But how could he explain that to the sixteen year old in front of him who was concerned - possibly for good reason - for his mother's safety.

"I'll arrange for you to firecall her tonight," he committed without a single clue as to how he would actually do it. "Go back to your dormitory to collect yourself, and then go to dinner."

His Slytherin nodded and took off towards the dungeons. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried his hardest to get some semblance of control over himself and his stray emotions - fear for Draco with his mother and fear for whatever had happened to Harry. The professor hedged his bets and headed towards the hospital wing; if something happened to Harry while he'd been out of the castle, the young wizard would be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Shell Cottage


	47. Shell Cottage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the reviews! I hope you all enjoy!

~~~~SS~~~~

This boy would be the death of him one of these days, that was a fact he was absolutely sure of. What was intended to be a simple trip while Harry was in class, turned into something much more complicated - as it seemed everything went lately. Severus was seated in his typical chair, which was a sad statement to be so true, besides Harry's bed with his head held in his hand waiting for something, anything, to show that Harry would be alright in the end. However, his will alone did nothing to help, and the young wizard was unfortunately still unconscious.

According to Dr. Swanson - who had been completely irate that something like this could happen in a classroom setting - she and Madam Pomfrey had been so focused on Harry's bleeding hand, neither of them noticed the growing bruise on his side under his robe. Of course Harry hadn't complained about it and that didn't surprise Severus at all since the mood Harry had been in lately suggested that the Gryffindor didn't want to draw any unwanted attention to his illness. It was something they'd need to discuss once all of the passed.

Once Harry had lost consciousness, Madam Pomfrey ran a full diagnostic scan, which located the issue near his right rib cage, and when they pulled up his shirt, they were greeted to the sight of a large, expanding dark purple bruise that was obviously internal bleeding from where Nott had hit Harry.

Severus had to assume that Nott had used some kind of spell, or perhaps object in addition to his elbow, to cause that much damage on Harry's body. Dr. Swanson had wanted Harry to go back to her muggle hospital for immediate surgery, however without Severus in the castle to provide medical consent, Madam Pomfrey managed to convince the muggle doctor that magic healing provided a much lower risk to the Gryffindor. In the end, Minerva was called in to make the final decision as Harry's guardian and he'd been mostly healed by magic and bruise salve; both for his side and his hand.

Severus came bustling into the hospital wing at the tail end of the healing, and now all there was left to do was wait for Harry to finally wake up. As the professor sat watching the sleeping teen, his mind was on full alert over the fact that, even after an extra-strength bruise salve, he could clearly see the remains of the now yellowed bruise. Not only should it have been fully healed by now, Harry should have also woken up.

It was now approaching midnight and there was still no change in the Gryffindor's status and Severus kept bouncing between Harry's lack of proper healing and pouring through the minute details from the meeting with Matthew. How had something so simple turned out so wrong?

"Severus," the headmaster walked around the white curtain partitions that the defense professor was so tired of seeing. "How's he doing?"

"He'll live," Severus ran his hand down his face, "but he clearly has had a rough a week thus far."

"So I've heard," Albus said, sitting in the other chair next to Severus's. "I'm afraid it's a conflict of interest for you to handle Mr. Nott's punishment in regard to his attack on Harry, so I've taken care of it."

"You are absolutely right, it's a conflict of interest," he spat out to his employer. "I take it he's claiming no responsibility?"

"According to Mr. Nott, he simply slipped and bumped into Harry while bringing back his supplies from the cupboard," the headmaster made it obvious he didn't agree, something that eased Severus's anxious thoughts a little. "With Harry's lowered blood counts from his recent treatment, it made a small situation a much bigger problem."

"A 'small situation'?" Severus leaned forward on his chair as he tried to appear in control of his growing anger, "Harry could have died from that supposed small situation!"

"I am aware of that fact, Severus," Albus said gravely, "which is why there have already been inquiries questioning if he should be allowed in classes to begin with. It's not uncommon knowledge that Harry cannot use his magic, though the reasoning has not been officially shared, and therefore it may have come up several times, even before this incident, if he's receiving extra provisions by being allowed to continue classes at all."

"He's entitled to those extra provisions, Albus, and until his magic is completely gone, he is still a wizard and entitled to his place in this school!" the former spy threateningly said. He paused and looked at Harry laying small in the bed then added, "Nott should be expelled."

"While I admit the situation is not good, Severus, I also do not believe Theodore Nott had intentions to harm Harry as severely as he had."

Severus couldn't believe his ears. Since when did Albus Dumbledore stand up for his Slytherins, especially against Harry Potter? Unfortunately, he was correct in the fact that they had no proof there had been any premeditation to the event.

"You never did take attempted murder seriously in this school," it was a bitter statement that he meant, but should not have said, especially to the man in front of him. "As his Head of House, I should at least know what his punishment will be."

"He's to serve detention every Friday night until the Christmas holiday," Albus explained. It was nowhere near enough, but Severus wouldn't get any further involved. "I arranged the private firecall to Malfoy Manor, as you asked. It seemed all was well with Mrs. Malfoy."

Once all of the activity around Harry had calmed as much as it could, the former spy had tried to convey the need for Draco's sudden call to his mother. While he wouldn't have said so to the blonde Slytherin, he had his doubts that Albus would understand and make the necessary arrangements. It seemed today, the headmaster was full of surprises.

"Things are not always what they seem, especially where the Dark Lord is concerned," Severus cryptically replied. "I have reason to believe that Narcissa may be in danger at some point in the near future."

"Care to enlighten me as to where your reasoning stems from?" His mentor appropriately questioned.

Severus considered lying yet again, however in the process of going through everything that was said in Knockturn Alley, the former spy had found a potentially fatal flaw made on his part. Albus now needed to know what they might be up against.

"I may have put Draco's cover in jeopardy," he scowled at the admission, for he was better than that. Unlike Matthew, and most the other Death Eaters, he knew exactly how to plan seven steps ahead of his opposition and yet he hadn't considered the possibility of the Dark Lord using a pathetic brewer like Matthew as his own replacement. While he didn't know that for sure, there was really no other way to interpret Matthew's threat as they were leaving that afternoon. If the other wizard knew about the Dark Lord residing at Malfoy Manor, he had a reason for being in Voldemort's presence, and he had a reason for living through that meeting. This meant that by implying that he - as a faceless muggle - knew Draco from the 'same circle' it was only a matter of time before Matthew connected the dots that Severus's alter-ego was not, in fact, a Death Eater. And if he'd been lying, then by association, so was Draco. He explained this theory to the headmaster, who nodded his agreement that Severus had made a mistake.

"You are human, my boy," he tried to convince the professor, "you cannot foresee every move on the board, no matter how much you think you can. If this contact of yours has replaced you in Lord Voldemort's own laboratory, he must be desperate."

"I have a suspicion that it has to do with the Leukemia," at this, Severus looked over at Harry's small body again. Even in his sleep, the young wizard was fighting a battle against his own body, one that the Dark Lord would be battling as well. "I've seen both Matthew's level of brewing, as well as the potions that would be needed to combat the Leukemia, and he won't be able to put the pieces together to make it work."

It was only a matter of time before Matthew got himself killed for his inept brewing skills, especially in this specific endeavor.

"Regardless," Severus continued. "I highly suggest the Order start a contingency plan to evacuate Narcissa should the moment come. Understand, Draco's allegiance to our cause could potentially cease should anything happen to his mother. With Lucius in Azkaban, that's really all the boy has left and we do not want to push him over that ledge."

It was ironic to think about how different Harry and Draco's upbringings were, and yet now they have essentially swapped positions. Draco would be trying to hold onto whatever family he had left, while the Dark Lord threatened them, while Harry was surrounded by adults - or at least one adult - who were doing everything possible to ensure his survival. With Matthew's clear threat still lingering over them, they'd need to keep a closer watch for anything amiss.

"I will not lie to you, Severus," Albus's eyes told him he was not going to like whatever the headmaster was about to say, "there are many members of the Order questioning young Mr. Malfoy's loyalties after the mission to rescue the Smithe's. Word is that Draco could have been instructed to notify us of Alton's involvement as a way to set up the mission."

"I disagree," the former spy confidently replied. "I performed the Legilimency myself when he first arrived and we were both present during Moody's brutal interrogation, plus during the use of Veritaserum. What more can you ask a sixteen year old to go through to prove his allegiance?"

"I did not say I agree with them, my boy," Albus reassured his professor, "I do not believe young Draco would be able to turn around and help Voldemort especially now that his mother may be involved, I am simply explaining the delicate situation we find ourselves in. I will do as you ask and start a contingency plan to ensure Narcissa's safety if you truly believe that by protecting her, it will solidify Draco's loyalties to the Order."

In the end that was all that mattered to Severus as he nodded his affirmation to the statement. He had vowed to himself to protect the blonde Slytherin, and if that meant he'd need to take a more vocal role among the Order members, he was willing to do so.

The two wizards sat in a deafening silence, neither sure where they were headed next. Severus was tired, not only physically, but of the charade he was always playing - with his students in the classroom, with his colleagues, with the Order, even with Albus lately. How was it possible that during the time when Harry's treatments, and by extension their lives at the present moment, were supposed to be easier, they ended up here. Sitting in that chair in the hospital wing, he wanted nothing more than to give up his classes and just take Harry away from all of this. They could live by the sea, just the two of them, and once Harry was both cancer- and Horcrux-free they could rejoin the wizarding world. But where would that leave Draco?

"Do please let me know if anything changes with young Harry," The headmaster stood to take his leave. "And Severus, I would suggest a visit to Alton Smithe might be worth your time. He may know how involved this Matthew is with the potions."

Severus nodded. He'd been needing to stop in anyway because he wanted to find out what the healer knew about how the Dark Lord was handling the Leukemia symptoms, but he had been putting it off for his own sanity. A part of him was terrified of what he would do standing in front of the man who betrayed them. Unfortunately, it would need to be done, but it could wait until Harry was recovered from this latest roadblock.

~~~~HP~~~~

It was hard to breathe and his chest hurt. Why did he always wake up in some kind of pain? Those were the first thoughts that came to Harry's mind when the consciousness started to reach him some unknown time later. He was still tired, which he thought was odd since he could have stayed asleep until he was rested, yet he wanted to get up and move. Unable to open his eyes, he used his other senses to try and figure out what was going on. He quickly assessed that he was in the hospital wing strictly from the smell alone, but why was he there?

_Potion's class._

He'd been in Potion's class when Nott pushed him and he had cut his hand. But that didn't explain why he was so tired and why he was unconscious. Surely, people don't lose consciousness over a couple of muggle stitches in their hand?

The next thing Harry was aware of was the sound of someone near him; it sounded like that person might be sleeping. Finally, able to crack his eyes open, he was wildly underwhelmed to see nothing but black fuzziness.

"H-" he started to call out, but almost nothing came out from his parched throat.

His brain was finally more awake, so even without his glasses he could determine several key points of interest to his situation: it was now dark outside and likely the middle of the night, he had an IV running into his port, and that the person who appeared to be sleeping in the chair to his right was Snape based solely on the smells of potions ingredients the man had been using religiously since he started that project for the Order with Malfoy.

_What the hell happened?_

"Harry?" He heard from his right, as his glasses were placed in his hands. Apparently Snape had the best hearing known to man and had been woken up from his little bit of rustling.

"What… happened?"

His right side was in a lot of pain; another piece of all of this that confused him because while Nott had bumped him there, it was his hand that he remembered injuring.

"You were attacked in your Potion's class today," Snape answered with a layer of disdain in his voice, but confirming to Harry that at least he hadn't lost too much time being unconscious.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, yet confused, "I cut my hand, but Dr. Meghan fixed that."

It was then that Harry realized his hand did not have any more stitches in it - though it was still very sore - meaning they'd used magic on it after all. Something else had obviously happened to need to use magic to heal him. The young wizard sat up, with Snape's help, and immediately felt awkward about where things had ended between them yesterday and this morning in class.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Harry quietly said. He held his head high so Snape would maybe understand that he was sincere with his words, "for what I said to you… was it yesterday?"

"Yes, it was yesterday. And I think your anger was a bit displaced," Snape gave an insightful look, but did not appear angry or disappointed which calmed Harry's fraying nerves. "Apology accepted, however once you're feeling better from this incident we will be discussing what has been going on. And you are not to tell me everything is fine."

None of that surprised Harry one bit, besides maybe the fact that Snape accepted his apology. It really was amazing how far the two of them had come in such a short - yet still very long - time.

"That's fair, sir. I can do that," Harry replied. He was playing with a loose string on his pyjama shirt nervously trying to think about what he wanted to ask next without sounding too vulnerable, "Where were you today? Why did you leave the castle?"

The professor hesitated with his answer, giving Harry the impression that it was something bad. If it wasn't, then Snape would have simply said something.

"I had an errand to run for the Order," he finally replied. "I didn't anticipate any issues while I was gone, otherwise I would have alerted you to my absence."

"No one really plans to slice their hand open," the Gryffindor said, trying to make light of the situation.

"You were attacked," Snape corrected.

"No-"

"Do not even try to deny it," the professor interrupted. He then started to tell Harry what they figured out had happened by piecing together what his classmates saw along with the injuries he sustained. The Gryffindor had every urge to deny that he was intentionally attacked because even if Nott used something to cause more damage to his side - which explained his pain still radiating from it - could he really have known that Harry would bleed as badly as he did? Somehow, Harry doubted Snape would feel the same way, and that thought felt good to him given the row they'd just had.

"Get some sleep, Harry," Snape said, as Harry's eyes were heavy from the surge of emotion and activity, "we'll figure this all out in the morning. Unfortunately you will not be attending classes the rest of the week, during your recovery."

The young wizard wanted to argue, but the throbbing pain in his side was an instant reminder that he did need the extra time to heal.

* * *

Harry was released from the hospital wing late Thursday morning after a quick check up from a still very angry Dr. Meghan. No matter what Harry had fussed about before about not wanting to skip his lessons, he was happy when they got home and he was back in his comfortable bed. He then spent the rest of the day working on the school assignments he'd missed and falling in and out of sleep.

"Tell me what's been going on in your classes," Snape said over dinner on Thursday night. It appeared that Snape had taken the day off as well and Harry suspected that he had spent the day constantly in and out of his laboratory. The Gryffindor wondered to himself if the professor missed teaching Potion's class since he really seemed to enjoy brewing.

Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice to give himself time to think about how he wanted to answer the very pointed question.

"It's really nothing," Harry tried to say, except he knew Snape wouldn't fall for it. "Mostly some comments and a little mocking here and there. It's nothing I can't just ignore, which is what I was trying to do in Potions. I did not _do_ anything to Nott."

"Pardon me, but if I do recall correctly," the professor dramatically explained, "Professor Slughorn said you drew your wand."

"I didn't use it though," it was petty sounding, at best, but it was the only defense he had at the time. He gave a small smile and added, "Personally, I was actually quite proud of myself for holding back."

"As am I, however, you should not have drawn it to begin with," Snape shook his head clear, "we've gotten off topic. What has been bothering you so much lately? I think we both expected your return to classes to have a more positive effect, and that has clearly not happened."

Feeling his face flush and his breathing shallow, the young wizard pushed his barely half eaten dinner across the table away from him.

"I'm just angry, alright? It's like..." The young wizard struggled to find the right words, but pushed through it knowing Snape would not accept that as an excuse to get out of this conversation. "I wanted to go back to classes so much that I didn't even consider what it would be like to actually go back. I'm like the third wheel everywhere!"

He was feeling the injustice rising up inside of him again while looking at Snape's neutral face. He wasn't judging Harry for his reaction to his classes or about his embarrassment, but he didn't appear to understand either.

"I hate having another reason for people to talk about me," he finally continued, and a small fraction of the boulder on his chest lifted up causing him to speak faster, "You don't understand, I went from being about to… and having to… do everything on my own and now even if I wanted to, I can't.

"Then there's my friends… their lives are all going on without me. Ron's got a girlfriend now! And then Hermione… and even Dudley has a place here… and I don't really have one anymore. I can't use my regular magic and I'm pretty sure my 'new' magic has disappeared."

"I noticed," was the first thing Snape said after Harry's diatribe. To Harry, he seemed as perplexed about that last statement as he was and that could not be a good thing.

While it felt good to get some validation, it also meant it was a significant observation. At first he'd been terrified to have his magic work almost at random, but now he was mourning the loss of it, along with all the other pieces that he felt were gone from his life.

"I'm the freak with a muggle disease, that can't do magic, and can't make it through a week of classes without-"

Harry didn't get to finish his complaint because Snape slammed his fist on the table, "I do not want to hear you using that word again when referring to yourself."

Harry startled at the confusing statement, but nodded his head anyway.

"As for your other declarations," the professor began, "I think you should talk this out with your friends. Life will go on, Harry, but it's not without you and I promise you, this will get easier."

When the Gryffindor didn't lift his head, Snape asked, "Do you want to talk to Dr. Swanson about any of this?"

"Absolutely not," Harry gave a dark chuckle, "I'm pretty sure she'd recommend me never returning to classes again after the Potion's accident."

It was a real fear Harry had with his new - maybe not so new, anymore - muggle doctor. She didn't understand how things worked at Hogwarts and even with a magical younger brother, that didn't mean she had the slightest idea of what Harry was feeling. Aunt Petunia was a perfect example of how a random magical sibling could mean nothing to the other person. He was positive that Aunt Petunia never tried to understand what his mum was doing and she sure as hell didn't try to understand him. No, he really didn't want to spend any extra time with Dr. Meghan if he could avoid it.

Harry was about to explain all of this to Snape, but a piece of parchment popped up in front of the professor's face. He didn't have to see it to know it would be Malfoy coming to work on the mysterious potion again; even Snape's life had moved on now that Harry was in the 'easier phase' of chemotherapy. The professor was too preoccupied with Order business to worry about Harry's over complicated feelings.

* * *

"I heard Nott's serving detention with McGonagall every Friday night for the rest of term," Hermione said while in the library Friday afternoon.

Harry had managed to convince Snape to allow him to study with Hermione - Dudley was working late on some project for class next week and Ron was off, yet again, with Lavender - instead of sulking in his room. The Gryffindor may have been using a bit of their conversation from dinner the previous night to help influence the man's decision, nevertheless he figured there was no way Snape _didn't_ realize that simple fact and still let him go anyway, so Harry wasn't feeling too guilty over it.

"For what he did, he deserves to serve it with Filch cleaning out all the boy's lavatories," Harry gave his opinion on the matter.

Even after Madam Pomfrey used magic to heal his side and hand, both were still extremely sore. The observation alarmed him because two full days later should have been plenty of time for it to heal. Each day of this phase brought more and more questions to the forefront of his mind about his magic and his ability to have some left once this was all over. Something deep inside was telling him at this rate he'd be lucky to still have his magic by the end of the year, let alone by his last chemo treatment three years from now. Thinking back on his conversation with Snape yesterday, he tried to stay positive by admitting that losing his magic was better than losing his life; it was still frustrating because he'd just gotten the idea of this extra magic and it was more or less gone.

"There was nothing of use in the restricted section," Hermione said, as if reading his mind.

"So… we're back to square one," he complained. He had hoped Hermione would come through as she usually did with these things. "Something strange is going on, 'Mione, and I want to know what it is."

"You could always ask Professor Snape?"

Harry froze at the question that came from over his left shoulder. Malfoy strutted up to them with a book held tightly in his arms, then arrogantly pulled out a chair, and sat down.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, Malfoy," there was no way he was going to tell any of this to the other boy.

"I know you're looking for some piece of," he lowered his voice, "dark magic, and I may have something to help you."

Harry narrowed his eyes and looked over to Hermione for some kind of assistance in dealing with the Slytherin. Was he that desperate to want to ask Draco Malfoy for help?

"What's in it for you?" He asked tentatively.

"I just want to know what you find," he slid the book from his hands across the table to Hermione. Harry craned his head to see the title, _Secrets of the Darkest Arts._ Apparently dark wizards didn't think of the most secretive book names.

"Where did you get this?" Hermione asked as she carefully picked up the book, almost afraid it would curse her to just touch it, "I guarantee you this wasn't found in Hogwarts."

"Close," Malfoy said even more arrogantly, "I nicked from Professor Snape's lab last night."

"Are you mental?!" Harry exclaimed and immediately ducked his head in anticipation of the stern scolding from Madam Pince, which thankfully didn't come. "You've got to be mental to do something like that!"

"Eh, I've got plenty of opportunities to return it. Assuming you find what you're looking for quickly."

"No," Hermione pushed the book away from her back to Slytherin. "I'm not using this, it's wrong."

"Oh," Malfoy gave another sarcastic chuckle, "but you'll sneak into the restricted section no problem. I see where your morals lie, Granger."

Harry watched the exchange between two of the top students in their class, highly intrigued. Malfoy would get boiled alive by Snape for stealing a book - especially one on this topic - if the professor ever found out. Why would he take that a risk like that for something Harry was wanting to find? What did the other boy expect them to find that he couldn't by looking through the book himself?

"I think you should take a look, Hermione," Harry said, ignoring her death glare. "I mean, Malfoy took the risk to get the book, and if it can help us find what we're looking for, why not?"

He could tell his friend likely had a very good reason - or several - on her mind as to why they shouldn't. The big one was probably because there was a better chance than not that Malfoy would put the book in their possession and then rat them out to Snape for nicking it themselves. Harry was willing to take that risk; if something like that happened, he'd have to explain to Snape about reading the notebook and he was willing to do that if it meant he would know what a Horcrux was and how it related to his Leukemia.

While the Gryffindor witch was not convinced, she did take the book and slid it into her bag.

"I'll let you know what we find, Malfoy," Harry nodded his head.

"Just try to be quick about it, Granger," the blonde said, standing up confidently, "the longer that book is out of Professor Snape's laboratory, the bigger my chance of getting killed gets."

None of them laughed because all three students knew that the Slytherin was not at all joking.

~~~~SS~~~~

**_Saturday 9, November 1996_ **

If anyone asked Severus where he would have chosen to live had he not ended up as a spy and professor during the first war, he would have likely described Shell Cottage to a tee. It was one of the most serene and relaxing places Severus had ever been to, and the little cottage reminded him of the one he'd brought Harry to Aberdaron; it would be the perfect size for just the two wizards. More often lately, Severus had wanted to just take Harry away and if this place was not already occupied by the Smithe's, he would bring them here.

Severus was nervous to come and see his friend for the first time since the interrogation over a month ago. He'd wanted to come by before now, but as with everything life got in the way; or at least that's what he'd told himself. The professor easily could have been the one to come by to deliver Harry's last magical test results - at least the last one's before they decided they would need to make a decision about how to handle the magical block first - yet he'd let the headmaster handle it. The truth was, he didn't know what to say about the feeling of deep betrayal he had felt from one of his very few friends.

The apparation point for Shell Cottage landed the former spy up on the hill that overlooked the cottage grounds. Severus instantly calmed from the smell of the sea air and the sound of the slow crashing waves. He should bring Harry here, even if it were just for a couple of hours, just so he could see the beautiful stretch of beach and be able to finally have a real memory for his sketching. Of course, he couldn't do that while the Smithe's were taking up residence and they would be here until after the Christmas holidays and then some combination of the Greengrass's were expected to either join the Smithe's or replace the Smithe's in residence. At some point, as the days were rolling on - quicker than Severus was prepared for - he would need to sit down with Albus again to discuss Daphne and her family. Right now though, he needed answers from Alton about the Dark Lord's health and Matthew's potential alliance with him.

The professor waited outside the front door after knocking to give the family time to prepare. Having lived in the muggle world, Severus wasn't sure how much Alton would know, or be able to explain, about Fidelius Charms. If the healer didn't know much about them, then Severus's sudden appearance could be distressing.

"Severus," the kind voice of Sarah Smithe was the first thing he heard when the door was opened. "Please, come in!"

Sarah was two years older than Alton, but no one would ever guess so. She had long dark brown hair, that was now starting to grey on the sides, that she always wore down to highlight her tight bouncing curls. Her eyes were green, though not nearly as bright as Lily's and Harry's, and she had dark freckles scattered across her otherwise pale face. She was wearing a modest blue floral dress that was covered with a white laced apron, announcing that she had been cooking prior to greeting him at the door.

"Good Morning, Sarah," he said, stepping into the old cottage.

He'd only been to the cottage once before, and it was when he'd met Poppy to help heal him after a particularly rough summons, yet he had nothing but good feelings walking back into the entrance hall and entering the sitting room to the right. His eyes were drawn to the ceiling wondering if Alton and Mary were in one of the three bedrooms upstairs.

"Would you like some tea?" She asked, wiping her flour covered hands onto her apron. When the professor shook his head declining the offer, she continued, "I'm glad you've finally stopped by. We never got a chance to thank you after… everything that night."

Severus locked his jaw to control his anger from remembering that night and specifically the cell where the mother and daughter had been held. Then of course, there was the guilt of knowing that they'd been captured weeks before, and the Order had decided not to attempt to rescue them.

"Do not thank me, Sarah," he said, very seriously, "I wish we'd been able to get there sooner. How is Mary?"

Sarah gave him a soft smile he thought he did not deserve, "She's doing great; absolutely loves it here. Alton tells me you've got guardianship over a teenage boy now? His patient with Leukemia."

"Not quite," Severus answered, but the fact that Alton thought he was Harry's guardian meant that he had to assume the Dark Lord had that information. "Where is Alton?"

"He's out on the beach with Mary. They love going out after breakfast," Sarah said, pointing towards the back door as a timer went off in the kitchen. "I need to get the bread out of the oven, so feel free to head out back and find him. I hope you can stay for lunch, Severus."

"Thank you for the offer," he sincerely replied. "Though I'm hoping I won't be that long."

Once Sarah had left for the kitchen, Severus was all set to head outside until something on the fireplace mantle caught his eye. Checking to make sure the matriarch was still occupied with her baking, the former spy walked over to the fireplace where there were a variety of pictures in mismatched frames. The first was from Alton and Sarah's wedding, which Severus had been invited to but it was too soon after Lily's death to go and celebrate his friend's new love. The next picture in the line was the day of Mary's birth; Alton was standing beside the hospital bed where an exhausted yet elated Sarah was holding a bundle wrapped in a pink blanket. Severus found himself wondering what happened to Harry's baby pictures, at least before he ended up with his relatives where they would not have taken any pictures of their growing nephew. He felt a wave of grief that the young wizard would have no record of himself throughout his childhood.

There were two more pictures in line that Severus passed by rather quickly - one taken during Alton's graduation from his medical/healing university, and another of Mary riding a bike - before he stopped at the last picture on the mantle. This last one looked to be the most recent, the professor guessed it was taken last Christmas. It was of a group of about fifteen people that he guessed were Sarah's family around an extravagantly decorated table. There was nothing particularly sentimental about this picture besides the fact that so many people were together to celebrate with their family; it was something that Severus himself nor Harry had ever had. But what got to Severus the most was the photographs' presence to begin with when he had nothing left of the life he remembered most. At some point he would lose the memories from his life with Harry, and unlike Alton and Sarah, he wouldn't have the pictures to remind him. It was one of the hardest realizations from living in this reality, and it felt unfair that after Alton's betrayal he was able to live in the house Severus would have chosen, surrounded by the memories and momentos of their life before all of this mess.

Getting a hold of himself again, the professor moved through the small sitting room to the back door that led out to a wooden porch overlooking the beach. He heard the seashell wind chimes even before he opened the door, and once he did, he walked down onto the damp, cold sand. The father and daughter were sitting away from the frigid water on the fringe where the sand met the grass. Alton's posture immediately tensed when he saw the professor walking towards them, however Severus doubted Mary would have noticed the change of her father's demeanor.

"Good morning, Severus," his friend and Harry's former healer greeted. "Mary, you may not remember, but this Severus Snape. He's the one who helped fix your heart."

The gratitude from the small girl's face was much more than Severus deserved. Yes, he'd worked overtime to get those potions completed for her, but it was the least he could do for all the lives he'd torn apart or taken himself.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Snape," she said, showing a maturity that seemed beyond her young years, and held her hand out, which Severus shook.

"Mary," Alton said, drawing the small child's attention back to him, "go back inside and stay with your mother. Severus and I will be right in once we have had some time to catch up a bit."

The child nodded her head and attempted to skip off back to the cottage. With a heavy heart, Severus turned back to Alton and both wizards started their slow walk back towards the cottage.

"She seems to be handling this all well enough," Severus said, choosing to start at a neutral topic.

As he'd hoped, Alton gave a chuckle and appeared to let down his guard just a little, "Yes, she's done well with everything. Albus has arranged for a child psychologist to come by weekly, which has done wonders for her."

The professor nodded, grateful that the headmaster was still helping to take care of the family, even though things ended up as they had.

"How's Harry?" Alton stopped walking when he asked the question that had obviously been burning in his mind since Severus's arrival. "I haven't seen his latest magic reports or his last bone marrow biopsy results."

"Harry's well," Severus lied. The truth was that Severus had no idea how to navigate Harry's latest depression about feeling left behind by, and a burden to, his friends. It was enough to drive anyone mad and, as he'd been told many times, Harry wasn't a normal teenager, he wasn't a normal wizard, nor was he a normal cancer patient. Harry was the antithesis of normal, a fact that was weighing the poor teen down. "We did not do another magical test yet as we ran into some… complications, however his latest bone marrow biopsy from Dr. Swanson was very promising. He's started phase two and so far things have been going well."

"Good," Alton continued walking again, a half a step ahead of Severus. "So then what brings you here Severus? I hadn't expected to see you again after… that night."

"It was a stressful night, Alton," the professor said, "I apologize for my roughness with you. I hope you can understand we needed to ensure who your loyalty was to."

"Harry and my family," the healer answered Severus's rhetorical question, "my loyalty is to my patients, my wife, and daughter. So I'll ask you again, what brings you here?"

This time it was Severus's turn to pause their quest back to the warmth of the cottage. While the salty sea air always helped calm the former Death Eater's nerves - by reminding him of Lily - the beach in November had a sharp, strong wind coming off the water that could penetrate down to the bones if one was not prepared for it.

"I need you to explain what you meant when you said the Dark Lord could feel Harry's chemotherapy effects."

The statement stood on its own with no further explanation.

"I wasn't sure you'd heard that," Alton started with, "All I know is that I was collected on three separate occasions during Harry's rough weeks and _he_ appeared to be suffering much the same as Harry was, though I would say it was on a lesser scale. Mainly the vomiting, abdominal pain, and fatigue matched Harry's symptoms at the time, plus at other times he had nose bleeds, bruising, bone pain, fevers, which are all symptoms of Leukemia in general."

Alton wouldn't know about Harry's blood being used during the resurrection nor would he know about the mental link - and soul fragment - that they shared. He wanted to ask his friend how he accounted for these occurrences if he didn't know about the other factors, but he didn't want to lead Alton into having information he should not possess.

"Before my cover as a spy for Dumbledore was blown," Severus said, honestly, "I was providing the Dark Lord with a wide range of potions that could combat all of those things. Do you know if he has since replaced that part of my role?"

"You mean has he gotten another brewer?"

"Precisely," Severus confirmed. "And any information you may have provided about the potions regimen to treat Harry's cancer would also be appreciated."

To his credit, Alton took the time to think back on what he'd seen and heard whenever he was "collected" for Voldemort.

"Unless he was buying commercially made potions, someone had to be brewing for him," the healer explained, "there was more than one occasion where potions were delivered to him while I was there. I never saw the brewer if that's what you want to know, but the potions had stopped working as well as they should have. He kept asking me why they didn't work, but I had no answers for him."

Severus tabled the observation that the potions had seemingly stopped working for the Dark Lord. He needed to see if he could find a connection to Matthew.

"Did you happen to hear the name of the brewer?" The professor asked. He started questioning to himself why he even bothered, it wasn't like Alton had been around for summons meetings themselves. The healer was probably only collected - as Alton called it - after all the Death Eaters had left. That was likely how they managed not to cross paths… it was that thought that froze all of Severus's current thinking. If the Dark Lord had used Legilimency on Alton, at a bare minimum but honestly it had to be more often than this, to find that first diagnosis conversation, how was Severus still alive? He was in Alton's office during that conversation and he was not wearing his glamour while he was in the office with his friend.

_He had to have known._

From that first summons after arriving in this reality, Severus had suspected his cover had been blown. It became most obvious when he was not permitted to leave the day of the Privet Drive attack, which ended up not mattering because he'd battled against the Death Eaters that night. However he now just confirmed that it was Alton that led to his discovery all along. Then why did the Dark Lord let him live with Harry that entire time?

"Severus?" Alton touched his arm to grab the professor's attention and it just so happened to be on his left forearm, on his dark mark.

"Did you know I was a Death Eater?" He asked his friend, while simultaneously unbuttoning and aggressively lifting the left sleeve of his black button down dress shirt. Staring at them both was the ugly, black mark contrasted against Severus's pale skin. "Did you know I was a spy?"

Alton appeared to have lost his focus as he couldn't tear his eyes away from the mark in his friend's arm.

"No," the healer shook his head violently, "I didn't know either of those."

"But he had to know," Severus threatened. "He pulled it from your mind. What else did he get Alton?"

Almost ripping his shirt from the force of pulling his sleeve down, the former spy thought back to all the conversations they'd had, which Voldemort would have had access to. He had to have known about being Harry's medical proxy, they'd discussed it when Harry was diagnosed. Suddenly it was becoming hard to breathe. It made no sense for Severus to have been left alone during those early days at Privet Drive. What benefit did the Dark Lord have with Severus being there?

"I have to go," the professor abruptly said, walking towards the apparation point instead of the house.

"Wait, Severus!" Alton called out before he'd gotten too far away. "I told him all about the potions route, though I made it clear I couldn't advise on any of the formulations. You obviously think there's some way he has the Leukemia, and for what it's worth, I think you're right. I also believe he's going to try to make his own potions-chemotherapy, though I don't know how well it will work."

"It doesn't work," he shouldn't have said it, but it slipped out. "As a renowned Potion's Master, I can tell you it doesn't work."

And with those parting words, Severus uncharacteristically ran to the apparation point and disapparated back to Hogsmeade. He needed to tell the Headmaster what he'd just uncovered.

* * *

Severus had immediately gone to Albus's office after returning to Hogsmeade. Though little may have been said between the two men on the beach at Shell Cottage, there was enough between the words for the former spy to start making some high-level strategic planning.

The Dark Lord was definitely feeling the effects of the Leukemia and by extension that gave them some kind of time limit over how long the evil wizard would live before the Horcrux needed to be dealt with. Could the Leukemia kill him before the soul fragment was removed? And if so, would Voldemort end up in the sort of parallel he was in before his resurrection? What would happen should the soul fragment be released after his current body was killed? These questions plagued his mind during the walk back up to the castle, but the biggest question of all was one he knew he would get no answers to. Why had he been allowed to live when Alton had shown his presence at Harry's side during the memory of his diagnosis?

"Clearly he had a reason for your continued survival," Albus told him once he caught the headmaster up on his conversation with Alton. Of course, his statement was not the least bit helpful.

"Obviously," Severus sarcastically replied, "any intelligent insight as to what that reasoning might be?"

"Tom has always been a strategist, Severus, though I will admit his decisions have been a bit more chaotic as of late," Albus stood and paced behind his desk contemplating their next move. "We'll know his reasoning in due time, I'm sure. As long as you and Harry stay protected within the wards of the school, it does not concern me nearly as much as how we're going to handle the Horcrux issue."

At this, Severus remained silent, having long learned he could gain more information when silent, then when talking.

He was rewarded when the headmaster continued, far too casually for the former Death Eater's liking, "What I hear you saying is that it's only a matter of time before Voldemort perishes from Leukemia."

"He cannot actually die if the soul fragment in Harry still exists," Severus spat back at his mentor, hating that he had to keep reminding the older wizard of this fact. "Not to mention that if Harry has any chance of walking away from chemotherapy with a gram of magic left, he may actually need that soul fragment to protect his remaining core."

Neither wizard wanted to say that the odds for Harry surviving at all was not looking favorable. Unless they could find a way to remove the fragment, Voldemort could continue to come back.

"When will we know for sure?" Albus broke the silence with the question as he sat back down at his desk and steepled his fingers. The question required no further explanations.

"End of the month," the dark haired professor answered, "If everything continues on schedule, the 27th or 28th to be exact."

The elderly wizard nodded his head gravely, as if he really didn't want to confirm that a dark magical soul was living and feeding from Harry. If Severus was honest, he didn't want it either.

"We should do one more magical test on Harry before that time-" the headmaster said, raising his hand to stop Severus's potential protest, "-

I know you want to preserve as much as possible until your confirmation, however once we know what we're dealing with, we'll need to move quickly. Therefore we need to test his magical level at least once more."

How could he argue that logic? As the end of the month and his potion approached completion, they would need to have as much information available as possible so they - or more accurately Harry - could decide on if they should proceed with the attempt to preserve his magic below the soul fragment.

"I think it's time we get Minerva involved," the dark-haired professor announced. "I will not be the one to tell her about the Horcrux."

No, he'd have to be the one to tell Harry and that was bad enough. He did not want to be subjected to Minerva's wrath when she discovered that both wizards had kept her in the dark over something as important as a piece of Voldemort living within Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: All of the Answers
> 
> I also wanted to add that I've finally gotten to the point offline that I've created the outline for the final arcs. I'm not committing to a chapter or word length for this fic since it's already longer than I ever expected, (plus I have over 50K words already written and ready to go so trying to guess at this point is a shot in the dark), but I can say that while I've always known what the end would be in theory, it has been planned out. At a high-level, this will take us through Harry's 6th year - very reminiscent of the canon books - before an epilogue. Regardless of the next chapter title, just know that there is still SO much to uncover and pieces to put together before the end is here.


	48. All of the Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the chapter I've been antsy to get out as we start to shift into some of the other arcs of the story. I do appreciate all the reviews, thank you!
> 
> Disclaimer: The magical theory in this chapter is all my own. If there is any overlap between this story and any others, it is purely coincidental.

~~~~SS~~~~

**_Wednesday, 13th November, 1996_ **

"You have to tell him, Severus!" Minerva bellowed at the defense professor the second the door to his office closed behind her.

Apparently, although Albus had explained the soul fragment issue to Minerva after Harry's magical testing earlier that night, she felt the need to reprimand him about it before they started their normal follow-up to the test in his office. Now that the Transfiguration Professor knew about Harry being a Horcrux for the Dark Lord's soul, it would allow him to speak more freely with her about the situation than in their previous sessions, which would give them a better view of the situation in its entirety. That was, of course, assuming he survived her wrath first.

Harry started his next round of chemotherapy tomorrow, this one was a double with another following on Friday - a fact that did not help the Gryffindor's ever declining mood as this would be the second week in a row that he missed his Thursday and Friday classes - and therefore his magical testing fell right in the middle of the week. As Severus had expected, as a whole, the exam did not go as well as the first couple did and he suspected Harry knew it hadn't either. Tonight they were able to see just how much magical loss Harry had been experiencing without the unintentional magic aiding him, and it was not looking good for the Gryffindor. The professor's theory on the different levels of the medications hitting the "block" appeared to be correct, as the young wizard had not experienced any of the unintentional magic since starting phase two; which he would discuss with Minerva about after his unofficial scolding.

"Of course we are planning on telling him," Severus indignantly said. "I simply want to confirm the presence of the soul fragment first. Dare I say he has enough in his mind as of late and does not need _this_ on top of it all, at least without any context."

"And in the meantime you've been letting him sit and ruminate over the loss of his magic?" She retorted astonishingly. "I don't know if you'd noticed Severus, but the boy has been more than a little down this week. He could use some good news, no matter how unsure you are on it!"

"That fact has, indeed, come to my attention, Minerva," he growled. What more did she want from him?!

Severus completely understood where she was coming from, although her anger was a little displaced. Since his conversation with Alton and Albus, he had been contemplating telling Harry at least about the block. Once he had Minerva's confirmation on his theory about the medication levels, he would essentially have all he needed to give at the least a high level explanation to the Gryffindor that something - he didn't need to spell out what that was exactly - was blocking and possibly preserving his magic. The last obstacle stopping him from already explaining all of this to Harry was his declining mood. While Severus was almost certain the reaction would be one of elation, to know they had some kind of plan, albeit not necessarily a good one, to potentially save some of his magic, he couldn't be completely sure. It very well could go the other way, and push Harry further towards his breaking point. And with two more days of chemotherapy coming up, he definitely didn't want to take the risk.

"It's probable, Severus," Minerva stated after reading through his notes on the different medications levels. She leaned back in her chair, getting comfortable for the tough conversation ahead of them. "There are a lot of unknowns and assumptions you are making though. Even if you confirm the presence of the soul fragment, we don't know for certain that it can protect the rest of his core and that the chemotherapy won't just take all of it anyway. Just because he hasn't seen any of the new magic now does not mean there isn't another equally plausible reason that has nothing to do with protecting his extra core."

"If that's the case, then we really have nothing to lose," he argued back pessimistically. "It's really this simple, Minerva: he either will gain access to both cores at once and the chemotherapy will do what it wants or, if my hypothesis is correct, we can shift the focus while he's going through the highly toxic medications coming up, from the block to his main magical source, and then perhaps he can get through the rest of chemotherapy with it protected until we can remove the soul fragment."

It made perfect sense to him; if they could get through phase three of consolidation with the block intact, then he would have a good chance of keeping his new magic. Researching ahead, maintenance phase would be the same medications he was taking now, spaced even further apart - which made sense given the current phase was also called _Interim Maintenance_ \- and therefore should react the same as now.

"And how do you think Harry will feel being left with completely raw, untrained magic?" She added, almost as an afterthought. "He'll have to relearn his entire spell-education."

"Which as you previously pointed out," he pushed himself forward over his desk to appear more powerful, "is a bloody lot better than being a squib or dying!"

There was a tense pause that covered the small office between the two people most responsible for Harry's well being. Both wanted to do what was best for the child they were entrusted with, yet neither knew what that entailed.

"How are you, Severus?" The elderly witch eventually asked him with an insightful expression.

This had taken an odd turn. He could admit that it had been unfair to throw those words back at her face, but deep down it felt good to him. Here he was trying as hard as he could to balance every aspect of both his and Harry's life, and that didn't even count Draco and his debacles, and he felt like he was failing at all of it lately. So how did she think he was doing?

"It's been… stressful the last couple of weeks," he finally answered, surprising even himself with his honesty.

Minerva gave him a sympathetic smile, the same one she gave Harry that Severus knew the teen hated. Apparently that had been the answer she wanted to hear.

"If it would help you," she continued, "I can arrange for Harry to spend the next two nights at my quarters. I'll stay with him for his treatments and you can get some rest, or caught up with whatever it is you're working so feverishly on."

Somehow that was the nicest thing anyone had offered for him, a fact that in itself was slightly pathetic, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Harry's mood anymore than it already was. At the same time, he had been the sole caregiver to Harry since July, and suddenly Severus was whisked away to the conversation he had with Minerva in the Great Hall where he managed to convince her that he should get Harry to a Healer. That all seemed like another lifetime ago, yet he wouldn't change a thing. How could a situation be so damaging to himself, yet he would do it again in a heartbeat?

"Let me discuss it with Harry," he eventually said as the guilt filled him up like a brick in the pit of his stomach, "and I will let you know tonight."

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry woke up the first day of his back-to-back chemo unknowingly in the same gloomy mood he'd been in for weeks. The Gryffindor knew that what Snape had explained was for the best, but that didn't stop the negativity from settling into him over the idea that he would be doing the two treatments in Professor McGonagall's quarters instead of in the place he now called his home. Sure, he'd technically been given a choice in the matter last night, except if Snape had the "very secret Order potion" - as Harry was now referring to it - that needed his attention until Saturday, then it ultimately was better for him to be elsewhere. The whole situation still made him feel a bit like a sick child getting passed off between his divorced parents.

_Guess that's better than dead parents._

Harry shook his head, as if trying to push away the invasive thought. This morning, Professor McGonagall was getting the rundown from Snape on all of Harry's tablet medications and how to make his smoothies, while he was trying to eat as much breakfast as he could with his still almost non-existent appetite. Had he been in a different frame of mind, it would have been quite humorous to the young wizard.

"I am positive I can read a schedule by now, Severus," McGonagall called out, aggressively pulling the piece of parchment with the list of his medication times - including his tablet antiemetic and morphine that was added during chemo - right out of his hand. Harry got the feeling Snape was nervous for him to be away, but refused to admit it.

"You won't even know I'm gone," Harry said, trying to ease the tension between his two guardians. "You'll be locked away in your laboratory and it'll be like before I took over your space."

"Our space," Snape said it so quietly Harry wasn't completely sure he'd heard correctly. A small smile crept upon his face from the implication.

Madam Pomfrey would be meeting them upstairs in McGonagall's quarters where she would do his blood draw - which was basically a formality since it had never come back low - and start his antiemetic - also a formality since it didn't actually work - and then go get Dr. Meghan. Harry was already nervous about being in his Head of House's quarters because for some reason that seemed more taboo than when he first moved in down here, and visualizing things like the IV stand and his medications taking over her space didn't help at all.

When he'd delayed the inevitable longer than he should have, because if it dragged on any later Snape would be late to his first class, Harry went to his room to collect his bag full of things he'd packed last night. In his school bag, in addition to a few of his textbooks, he'd packed: two sets of pyjamas, an extra pair of socks, his sketching notebook with his muggle pencils, his toothbrush and toothpaste, and his red blanket; at this point that was as much for his emotional comfort as for his physical warmth. Satisfied that he had everything he needed for the two days away from home, he went to the floo where Snape and McGonagall were waiting for him, making it obvious that they'd just been talking about him when the room went completely silent then second he entered it.

"Ready, Harry?" McGonagall rubbed his shoulder as she asked him.

"Yeah, I'll meet you there," the young wizard said nervously. He could feel his face starting to flush all the way up his ears.

When his Transfiguration professor left, Harry turned a bit awkwardly to Snape.

"Good luck on the potion," he scuffed his toes against the stone dungeon floor. "Just don't let Malfoy in my room, 'kay?"

Snape gave a chuckle with a smile, and after a second of hesitation pulled Harry into a hug.

"I won't let him in your room," he said. "If you need anything the sphere will still work to contact me directly. I packed it in your bag this morning. Otherwise, Minerva knows how to interrupt me should anything come up."

"I'll be fine Severus, and I'll see you Saturday morning," the Gryffindor replied, pulling away slightly, "You better go before you're late. I know from personal experience that the defense professor doesn't take any excuses for tardiness."

With that, Harry turned and entered the floo to go to his temporary home for the next two days.

When Harry came through the floo - more like fell through as always - he was surprised by how different McGonagall's quarters were compared to his and Snape's. The layout was close to the same, but since they weren't in the dungeons the first difference he noticed was where the enchanted windows used to be, there were smaller real windows that somehow made the air around the room feel colder, although definitely less damp. Peeking through the window, he found he missed the enchanted picture that showed a more detailed view of the grounds, instead of the real view high up near the top of the castle. He wasn't entirely sure where the elderly witch's quarters were located, but he assumed they would have to be near the Gryffindor tower since she was their Head of House. How hadn't he noticed how cold and dry the air was from up here?

McGonagall's sitting room was set up much in the same way as Snape's was, with the fireplace in the center of the wall, but where the sofa and two armchairs would be back home, there were two loveseats perpendicular to the fireplace with a small rectangular table between them. The love seats were both made of a red extravagant fabric, with a pattern Hermione would later tell him was called damask, with a frilled edge Harry assumed would tickle when sitting on it.

It was very clear that McGonagall and Snape had polar opposite styles. Where Snape's quarters were dominated by the cool colors of greys, blues and greens, with towering bookcases lining the sitting room, McGonagall's quarters were decorated in the warm colors of red and ivory. The walls were made of what appeared to be ivory painted stones, and when Harry reached out to touch them, he was surprised to find that they were smoother than those that were used in the dungeons. Large red, ivory, and green floral tapestries hung almost at random on the walls around the room making it feel even more like the Gryffindor common room. As if to confuse the young wizard even further, he realized that her quarters were set up in the reverse of Snape's, with the hallway to the bedrooms and bathroom on the left, and the door to Professor McGonagall's office was to the right of the sitting room from his position by the floo. Finally, there was a doorway in the back left corner - also opposite to the one in Snape's quarters- that he assumed led to the kitchen. Overall, he hated to admit that it reminded him too much of an older version of Aunt Petunia's style of decorating and he was already missing the comfort of his home in the dungeons.

"This way, Harry," McGonagall called as she gestured to his left towards the hallway where he assumed he would be sleeping. "Your room is first on the left, followed by a lavatory, and finally my room is at the end of the hallway on the right."

Harry was feeling overwhelmed and a little scared, with no idea as to why he felt either of those. His room was decorated similar to the rest of the quarters with ivory painted walls and red floral tapestries covering three of the four walls, giving Harry the impression that this had been a guest room or extra office space. His insides filled with gratitude to think that Snape had probably rearranged his room back home from a potions storeroom to something that would make Harry more comfortable to sleep in. The room here had a large four poster bed with rich red linens that Harry immediately felt uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping - and potentially vomiting - in. As if picking up on her young charge's awkward feelings, McGonagall waved her wand and the bed was transformed into one that better resembled his from downstairs.

"Thank you," he said, placing his bag down next to the bed. "Is Madam Pomfrey here yet?"

"You are very welcome, Harry," she draped her arm around his shoulder, "Should you ever need it, you are always welcome here. Now let's get you started."

Though he was extremely nervous in that moment, Harry had no idea how comfortable he would become by the end of his two days in McGonagall's quarters, and he had even less of an idea of how important that would become later on in the school year.

~~~~SS~~~~

"Where's Potter?" Draco asked, while working with Severus on the next step of the potion Friday night.

Severus was thrilled that they only had a fortnight left until the damn potion was completed and it would be ready to test the black substance. In his mind, he didn't need the potion's confirmation for him to believe that Harry was a Horcrux for the Dark Lord, however Albus - and eventually Harry, when they made the decision to tell the teen - would want to know without a doubt before making any decisions on Harry's magic.

With the Gryffindor staying with Minerva for this round of chemotherapy, he was able to get a much clearer view of the situation then he had before. In his bed last night, he laid awake feeling guilty for both sending Harry away and lying to the teen about the reason why he had to stay with Minerva in the first place. In the midst of his guilty conscience, he convinced himself that he needed to tell Harry his theory about the Gryffindor's split magical core and he would simply have to be careful not to give him information about being a Horcrux; the fact that he had a piece of Voldemort's soul lodged alongside his own. Though he could think of an almost infinite number of reasons not to say anything until the Potion's completion, the most compelling reason to tell the Gryffindor was plain and simple; Harry deserved to know what was going on within himself. Once that decision was set in his mind - now only needing to find the right time to do it - he had taken a partial dose of Dreamless Sleep, determined to make sure he used the time Minerva had given him to get some actual rest so he could be better able to help Harry through the mental battle he'd been facing lately.

Shaking his head to bring himself back into the present brewing with Draco, he replied, "He's staying with Professor McGonagall until tomorrow morning."

"Didn't he have treatments yesterday and today?"

Using his Occlumency, Severus managed to keep the expression on his face completely neutral while inside he picked apart that statement. It wouldn't be too far out of the realm of possibility for the blonde to recognize that Harry had chemotherapy. The Gryffindor was not in his classes yesterday or today, plus Draco did not have his Potion's tutoring yesterday; or at least he assumed Minerva would have cancelled it. However, there was something about the way Draco had asked the question that sounded as if the teen had been concerned for Harry, even if it were only a little. It was progress for the Slytherin, and Severus was proud of him for it.

"He needed a change of scenery," Severus lied, "and I needed to focus on this-," he motioned to the three cauldrons around them, "-among other things."

"What's going on with him lately?" Again, the former spy picked up a touch of concern about the Boy-Who-Lived from Draco. "I'm sure you've noticed his less than sunny disposition lately?"

"We all have, Draco," he busied himself with the next set of ingredients, though they did not need to be prepared as of yet, but it gave himself something to do, "he has a lot going on right now."

"That much is obvious to everyone and his brother," the Malfoy heir declared. "Is it his magic? He's seemed a little, I don't know, distracted in our practical lesson. Honestly, I don't think the Slytherins are getting as much enjoyment out of their taunting with him like this."

"I will not be discussing Harry's magic with you," he sternly replied, although the information was helpful. He'd have to keep a closer ear on the students from his own House because it appeared like they had been leaving Harry be, however that was not true by the sounds of it, and the last thing Harry needed was another reason to withdraw into himself and his own headspace. To Draco's credit, the blonde let the subject drop.

"You'll be spending some time with Madam Pomfrey this weekend?" Severus was desperate for any deflect from Harry's attitude.

"Very subtle, Severus," the blonde flatly replied, "and yes, I'll be working with Madam Pomfrey on Sunday. When you hear people running away from the hospital wing, you'll know I'm there."

"Have some confidence, Draco," Severus reassured the blonde as he placed an alarm ward on the cauldrons. They needed to simmer for three days until the next step, which would bring them into the final stage. He was about to dismiss Draco when he added, "Keep an eye on Harry for me when he's not here. I know he's had some issues with his friends lately, and I'm concerned they won't be able to see him objectively. They've already shown countless times that they enable his inability to ask for help."

Severus could see Draco thinking about what he'd been asked to do, but the professor knew at this point neither boy would say a word against it as they both knew deep down they were starting to trust one another.

"That won't be a problem at all Severus," Draco eventually said, with a hint of satisfaction in his voice that Severus couldn't quite place.

* * *

**_Wednesday, 20th November 1996_ **

Harry's absence from the Great Hall at meal times was not lost on anyone in the castle, least of all Severus. The young wizard had been back to normal classes for almost a month and had yet to eat a single meal with his classmates, and at this point Severus was concerned. He'd considered talking to Dr. Swanson about how to help the young wizard through his current struggle, however Harry made it obvious that he does not like his new doctor; another observation to add to his ever-growing list of things to worry about. For a brief moment he thought about bringing Alton for a visit, in hopes of getting through to Harry as they had a rapport that would be extremely helpful in reaching the teen. He got the feeling Albus would deny the request to allow the man who betrayed them to come back into the castle.

Severus was sitting at the head table as dinner was coming to an end, watching over his Slytherins and Harry's friends at the Gryffindor table, when his thoughts were interrupted by Filius approaching him from the left.

"Ahem," the small wizard awkwardly cleared his throat, causing Severus to physically shiver as he thought back to the days of Umbridge.

"Is there something I can help you with Filius?" He asked, trying to be as polite as possible given his own frustrated mood. It wasn't until Minerva came up behind the Charms professor that he thought something could actually be wrong.

"It's… " the tiny wizard was wringing his hands as he tried to talk.

"It's Harry, Severus," Minerva filled in when it was clear the other professor wasn't going to finish his sentence.

Immediately, Severus looked around, trying to be as casual as possible. Harry hadn't come to dinner, or at least the defense professor hadn't thought he did. Perhaps he'd been attending under the invisibility cloak?

"He's missing classes," Filius finally said. "Mr. Potter missed my class yesterday afternoon and Minerva has said he missed Transfiguration on Monday."

That the last straw for Severus. It was one thing for Harry to not feel comfortable taking his meals with the rest of the student body, but he could not intentionally miss his classes.

"Are you certain?" Severus cringed as the question left his mouth. He'd beat apart another professor for assuming he couldn't keep track over which students appeared in his class at any given time. Filius and Minerva deserved the same respect.

"Of course," the small wizard kindly said, "I thought maybe he had treatment again yesterday, however when I asked Minerva, she said he doesn't have any this week."

Taking a deep breath, he thought about his options, although ultimately, he knew what he needed to do. The professor had procrastinated as much as he felt he could in hopes that Harry's attitude would lighten before he had to get too directly involved. However, he now had no choice but to address the issue.

"Would you like me to talk with him, Severus?" Minerva asked, placing a hand on his shoulder which he promptly shrugged off.

"I'll take care of it," he replied and stood to handle the sullen teenager sitting down in the dungeons below them.

With having the two days last week to finally get some decent rest, if nothing else, he approached the Gryffindor's room with a clearer mind. That didn't stop him, however, from thinking of all the ways this could go wrong. It was true that Harry could be very happy about finding out he has another set of magic that he may or may not lose, however Severus was a realist - occasionally a pessimist - and understood he could find this truth a betrayal to their trust in one another.

"Come in," came the gloomy voice from the other side of the door when he knocked, setting the tone for the conversation.

Harry was laying down in his bed with his back facing the door making it obvious the teen had no intentions on talking tonight. Severus chose to sit at the end of Harry's bed, instead of the desk, as a way to physically show him that they were on the same side right now; that Severus was there to help him.

"You're back early," Harry mumbled, without turning.

"Yes, I am," he replied, choosing his words carefully. "Did you eat?"

"Yup," Harry emphasized the _pah_ at the end of his single word answer, unknowingly drawing more attention to the blatant lie.

Actually eating meals as another battle Severus knew he would have to face as he would likely need to start taking his own meals back in his quarters, for no other reason than to make sure the child was eating enough. Looking at Harry's thin frame laying in the bed, the professor cursed himself for not taking notice earlier and again wondered when the right time was to get Dr. Swanson involved. Harry may not have an appetite as of late, but he needed to use the long breaks between chemotherapy to gain back the weight he had lost during the last phase, and was sure to lose in the upcoming phase.

Choosing not to rise to the bait, he ignored Harry's less than eloquent choice of word, "Professor Flitwick spoke with me after dinner just now."

The Gryffindor visibly stiffened as the realization of what that meant hit him. Of course, had Harry chosen to take his meals in the Great Hall, he would have likely enjoyed seeing the very nervous, tiny professor approach the dark defense professor and have to explain his concern over Harry's absence yesterday. As it was, here they sat on separate sides of their apparent power struggle. Severus refused to fill in the unpleasant silence, and was rewarded when Harry began to speak.

"So what? It was a practical lesson that I couldn't do anyway," at this point, Harry finally turned to greet Severus and his emerald eyes were dulled with grief. "What difference does it make if I'm there or not?"

"Since you need to pass your courses for any career worth you while, it makes a big difference."

That statement seemed to spark something in the young wizard, because he sat straight up and flung his arms into the air, "I'm not stupid, alright? Why don't we just stop pretending that I'll be graduating here with all my friends, because we both know that's not going to happen! I can't pass my courses using my bloody wand backwards and I sure as hell can't take my N.E.W.T.s that way, but let's all pretend it's just fine because it's not like I'll have any magic left anyways."

There it was, the transition he knew he had to take to broach the subject he'd been avoiding. Harry was right of course. Even in the best case scenario - before they knew anything about the block or the Horcrux - if Harry was simply not using his magic to preserve it, he wouldn't have been able to graduate from Hogwarts on pace with his friends. It wasn't that simple, but Harry didn't really know that yet. Suddenly the professor questioned the role he played in Harry's current struggles about his magic, his schooling, and his friends. Had he done more damage in an effort of trying to protect him?

"You are right," Severus said, which completely threw Harry's tantrum off its balance. "You will not be able to graduate with your friends."

"Exactly," the young wizard replied, though much of his aggression dissipated at Severus's declaration.

Confusion crossed Harry's overly exhausted face, but then gave way to something that had been missing since he had returned to classes: relief. In that exact moment, Severus knew how to help Harry, and he should have done it a while ago to prevent this in the first place.

"With so much of your chemotherapy left," the professor started, hoping he'd know what to say and how to say it as he spoke, "it is unrealistic to think you will continue your magical education as usual."

"I told you-"

"Hear me out, Harry," the professor interrupted, "I've been trying to make it seem that way in an effort to keep you motivated, but I believe it's had the opposite effect."

Somehow admitting his own guilt in Harry's reaction to classes took the final steam out of the Gryffindor's angry fire burning within him.

"I don't know how to handle it," Harry closed his eyes, as if not watching Severus would help him talk about what was bothering him. The young wizard spoke in a voice so small and innocent, it broke Severus's heart to hear, "I sit in class and watch everyone else do their spellwork and I get angry… and I feel hopeless about my magic being here when this is done."

"It is not hopeless, Harry," the professor said, moving further up on the bed so he was now sitting directly in front of his young charge. This was the child he was supposed to care for, and yet somewhere - probably as he was deep in the middle of the potion - he'd missed the signs in front of him that the teen needed not only his reassurance, but his honesty. Severus had never sugar coated anything to Harry before and looking back now, by not telling Harry about his magical core, he'd sugar coated it by omission.

"You don't know that," Harry challenged.

"I know more than I've told you," he admitted. "I think I've worked out a way to give you a very good chance at keeping some magic by the time you're done with chemotherapy. It won't be easy and there's definitely some risks involved, but it's not hopeless."

The Gryffindor hung his head down and Severus thought he'd heard a sniffle, but didn't dare ask.

"Ok? What do I have to do?" Harry asked with a tremble in his voice.

"Nothing yet. We, meaning Albus, Minerva, and I, have a theory that something is blocking a significant part of your magical core," the second the words left his mouth they felt right. It was as if something locked into place and not only could he not take it back, he wanted to continue telling the child in front of him what they'd discovered about his magic.

"Is that even possible?" Harry physically recoiled backwards at the revelation, "What does that mean exactly?"

And so Severus explained the theory Minerva had uncovered about squibs having "blocked magic" and explained how his old unintentional magic had come through a little at a time as the chemotherapy appeared to be breaking it down. He went through his own theory that with this block - and he made sure to always use that word - in the way, his magic could not help fight off the Leukemia as it would have if he'd had access to his complete magical core all along, finally giving Harry the answer to how he was able to get Leukemia in the first place. That information alone seemed to help calm down some of the anxiety within the teen.

"So are you saying I have more magic in me somewhere?" Harry asked in utter disbelief, but his spirits appeared lifted for the first time in the last three weeks.

"Yes, that that is exactly what I am saying," Severus replied confidently. "It would explain the bouts of unintentional magic, which are technically more like stronger-than-usual accidental magic."

"But I don't have that happening anymore. Is that magic gone already?" His eyes averted downwards, but not before Severus could see the disappointment in them. He'd just been introduced to the whole new idea of having more magic, only to have it seemingly taken away.

"No, I'll get to what I think happened, but I believe it's still there under, it's simply unusable under the block."

The professor looked around the room trying to think of some way he could explain this complicated Magical Theory to a sixteen year old.

"I'm working on confirming that is what's happening within you," he explained carefully, wanting to give Harry as much information as possible while protecting the parts he was still unsure of, "I believe the black substance you were vomiting is a physical manifestation of this block breaking open, and the potion I'm working on will allow me to know that for certain."

"That's kind of brilliant."

"Regardless of how 'brilliant' that may seem, it does leave us in a difficult position. May I?" He picked up a muggle pencil and gestured to Harry's notebook on the desk requesting a piece of paper. Harry carefully opened the notebook - giving Severus the smallest view of the beach scene that included two people standing at the edge where the water meets the land, looking out to sea - tore out a sheet of paper and handed it to Severus. Trying to keep this as high level as possible, Severus started by drawing a large oval with about a half dozen vertical and horizontal lines throughout it.

"Let's say this is the magical core any magical person is born with. The lines going every which way represent their raw, untrained magic. As the witch or wizard grows, so does their magic," he explained and then added more lines throughout the oval. "Due to the fact that prior to starting their magical education the magic in a person's core is chaotic, it causes the spurts of random accidental magic we typically see starting between the ages of 5 and 7; most often during times of emotional outbursts or distress."

"I once disapparated to the roof of my school," Harry said with the start of a smile before he immediately frowned, "my teachers were horrified, and then I got punished for it."

The professor narrowed his eyes; he had, in fact, known of that incident. It still angered him inside because while Petunia could have made excuses for any of the other accidental magic Harry did growing up, she fully knew he could not have gotten to the roof on his own, and yet she still punished him for something he had zero control over.

"As I've said before, your mother had exceptional control over her accidental magic. It doesn't surprise me that you would as well," Severus added, then he waved his hand across the top of the paper and all the lines started arranging themselves into neat vertical rows, "Once magical education starts, a person's magic becomes more organized, and therefore the accidental magic ceases. The magic will continue to grow, albeit in a more organized manner given that it has some organization to base itself off of, until the witch or wizard is between sixteen and twenty."

He paused giving Harry time to comprehend the impromptu magical theory lesson. Satisfied that the Gryffindor was following, he then drew another oval with the same random lines right next to the completed one.

"What we believe happened with your magic is that you have a block," he drew a thick horizontal line, about a third of the way down, across the oval that was representing Harry's magical core, "and you've been training the first part of your core, while the bottom has been left untrained, and more or less, raw magic. This untouched part could not help prevent the cancer cells from taking over in your bone marrow because of the block above it.

"When you started chemotherapy, specifically phase one of consolidation, we believe the medications started breaking holes within this block," he waved his hand and small gaps appeared in the line. "It was through those gaps that you were getting spurts of very strong accidental magic. My theory is that more of your core is under the block than above it, which caused its strength."

Now Harry looked more than a little terrified, "So... If we remove the block, will my magic be strong enough to withstand whatever I lose from the chemotherapy?"

"We can hope that's the case," the professor explained neutrally, and with a wave of his hand the line disappeared combining the two parts of his core, "We could leave everything as is and my estimate is that sometime in the next phase, the chemotherapy will break down the block, along with an unknown amount of your current core, until it combines the trained and raw magic. However, the chemotherapy will then continue to deplete from the newly combined magical core at an unknown rate over the next three years, and there's a possibility you may be left with some magic at the end of all this, or you may be left with none at all."

"But?" Harry questioned anticipating Severus's hesitation.

"But, there's another option to consider," he brought the line back to his oval and darkened it, "if we were to protect the block, specifically through the next phase, and allow the chemotherapy to focus on the first part of your magical core, we could then release the block after you're through with treatments allowing you access to the entire rest of your core that was protected."

Without being able to explain the Horcrux scenario, the professor thought he'd done a well enough job explaining the situation, now it was only a matter of it making sense to Harry.

"Let me see if I follow this: we could try to preserve the second part of my core by getting the chemotherapy to leave the block alone? But it is leaving it alone now, that's why I haven't been doing any unintentional magic right? And why the black stuff disappeared?" Harry asked, highly confused.

"This is where it gets a little more complicated," he semi-honestly said. "As you are keenly aware, chemotherapy medications are not all created equal. You saw the most unintentional magic and black substance when you were doing the harshest medications of the chemotherapy in the last phase. I believe that was the time the medications could reach the deeper block, especially because you were not using your 'surface magic' at all. So now that you're doing the 'lighter medications' in phase two, this chemotherapy cannot break down the block.

"It's hard to think about this now, but the next phase is another difficult one and when I believe the block could be permanently broken. If during the next phase, you were to start using your magic regularly again, that magic will be fully used instead, and therefore leave the block alone. Then by the time you get to the easier Maintenance Phase, the block might not be touched at all or hardly touched by those medications."

This time, the professor drained the top portion of the modeled magical core and then a moment later removed the block to show only the raw magic left underneath. "Understand, it's not an exact science as this situation is a bit unprecedented."

"A bit? You think?" Harry sarcastically replied and ran his hand over his head. "And if I'm left with this chaotic mess of magic-" he pointed to what was the lower two-thirds of the oval "- how does it get organized again?"

"Without any of your current, organized magic available, you would have to retrain it," he replied, trying not to draw attention to the fact that Harry would be essentially redoing his magical education.

"You mean I'd have to relearn my spells all over again?" Harry asked exasperated, "That sounds awful! I can't do that!"

"It's better than nothing," Severus said to which Harry did not reply. To Severus, here they were at that dreaded crossroads yet again only this time Harry would have to choose between letting the magical cores combine or intentionally killing off the top core to hopefully preserve the bottom one.

After roughly five minutes of watching a wide range of emotions cross Harry's face, the teen asked the one question he refused to answer, "How did I get the block to begin with?"

"I don't know," Severus lied, feeling the guilt start to eat away at him inside.

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry didn't sleep that night after Snape told him all about his magical core - or magical cores - and who could blame him? Just when he thought things couldn't get any more complicated, he was proven to be completely wrong. So instead of sleeping, he started by laying in his bed staring at the ceiling going over what it all meant to him and his situation.

On the surface, Harry was happy to finally have an answer about how he got Leukemia in the first place. Somehow in all of this, being able to tell himself that he'd gotten this awful disease because his magic was blocked calmed some of the injustice that had been building up inside of him. It wasn't that he was weak or that he was somehow destined to die. It was simply that he was born with an impairment to his magical core, like a squib was.

Of course, none of that changed the fact that the chemotherapy would still eat away at his magical core, but he did have another option now. He could trust Snape and take the risk that if he gave up his smaller magical core, it would save his larger core underneath the block. Although, for someone who needed to kill the darkest wizard in recent history, it was a big bloody risk to take. Doing some quick math in his head, he still had over three years of chemotherapy left, meaning they wouldn't remove the block - he hadn't thought to ask Snape how they planned to do that - until at least that was behind him. At that point, he'd be no better than a first year with his spellwork. He could think clearly enough to at least admit that he wouldn't have to do all of his lessons over again, just Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense, so he could probably do seven years of magical education much more efficiently. Six years. That was about how long he guessed Voldemort would continue to gain power until Harry would be able to even consider killing him. How many more people would die while he waited to get his magic retrained? And how many of those people would be his own friends? Where would that leave him and Snape if they couldn't leave the castle wards for their own safety?

It was with those intrusive thoughts that Harry finally found himself falling into a restless sleep. He dreamed about his friends dying at the hands of Voldemort while he tried to save them, except no matter how many times he attempted to use the counter curses and jinxes, they just wouldn't work. Looking down at his useless wand, he saw that it was backwards and he tried to turn it around but found it was permanently attached to his hand in that orientation. There was nothing else he could do besides watched his friends die one-by-one, with a flash of green light between each one: Dudley, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna, the entire D.A., all the rest of Wesley's, Draco, and finally Snape.

"Noooooo!" He bolted upright in his bed and instinctively reached for the wand that would at some point become useless to him. He was panting and like always his pyjama shirt was clinging to his body from sweat. It took him a solid sixty seconds to realize that he was in his bedroom, safe at home.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep after a dream like that, the young wizard decided to get up and try to clear his head in the sitting room. As he left his room, he heard what sounded like a scream coming from his right. The Gryffindor knew he should continue heading to the sitting room, but instead he cautiously and quietly walked down the hallway and ended up in front of Snape's bedroom where he could hear the professor on the other side of the door. Nervously, Harry placed his hand on the door knob, turned it slowly, and opened the door. His heart was racing when he took his first step into the dark forbidden bedroom. The lanterns were all out, but there was a low fire in the fireplace across from the large four poster bed giving off just enough light to see Snape rustling around in his sleep having what appeared to be a nightmare.

 _I should leave_ , Harry thought to himself, but he wouldn't. He hated how he felt trapped within his own nightmares and he couldn't just walk away leaving Snape like that.

"Severus!" He called out from beside the bed of his mentor.

Snape was wearing a pair of black flannel pyjamas that, like Harry's had, were coated in sweat and his long black hair was thrashing across his pale face that was grimaced as if he were in pain. With as many nightmares and visions from Voldemort Harry had, he'd never considered what he looked like when someone saw him having one. His face flushed a little with embarrassment.

"Severus!" He called again, this time he reached down and grabbed Snape's arm to try to shake him awake. The physical contact worked immediately and the dark-haired professor shot up in his bed.

"Harry!" He called out and then wiped his face with his hand.

"Severus?"

"Harry," Snape repeated, this time sounding relieved to see the young wizard in front of him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and held both of Harry's upper arms, "Are you alright?"

Unable to find his voice, and having no idea why, Harry nodded his head. Again, relief came over the professor's face and the man let out the breath he'd apparently been holding, waiting for Harry to answer.

"You…" the teen started almost breathlessly, "I heard you having a nightmare, so I thought..."

"It's fine, Harry," Snape watched him intently. "Did I wake you?"

"No, sir," Harry replied a little sheepishly, "I was already up from my own nightmares."

The two wizards let a companionable silence fall over them when Harry gave a large yawn. Snape then stood, put his arm around Harry's shoulder pulling him into a side hug and said, "Why don't we go into the sitting room for a bit?"

Again, Harry nodded and allowed the man he thought of as a father lead him out of the bedroom and into the sitting room.

The clock on the mantle showed half past three in the morning; a time that he seemed to wake up far too often lately. Snape guided him to the sofa and then summoned Harry's pillow and blanket - the young wizard wondered if his own wand was still on the bedside table - and then set them onto the sofa for Harry to rest.

"What was your nightmare about?" Harry asked the question that had been on his mind since he'd walked into Snape's bedroom.

"It was a memory, not a nightmare, though I guess there's not much difference these days," the professor answered with a small shake of his head. "Lay down, Harry. I'd like you to bring up your forest, it will help you fall back asleep."

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to go back to sleep, but he obeyed anyway. Settling onto the sofa, he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths as he thought about his Occlumency forest. The sky was bright blue and the trees were tall and strong. He'd been practicing - although not nearly as much as he should have been lately - and it didn't take long for him to get onto his broom and start flying high above the forest canopy. The canopy was the tightest he'd ever seen, and right before he fell asleep, Harry couldn't help thinking it was somewhere he would feel safe hiding.

* * *

"Earth to Potter!" Malfoy called out at their Potion's tutoring Thursday morning. This was one of his tutoring sessions that was scheduled before lunch when he had Herbology first period in the morning and Transfiguration in the second period after lunch.

Harry had just missed the most critical step in their pretend brewing process - adding the three beetle eyes, one at a time with a three-quarter anticlockwise stir between each one - causing a pretend explosion, which in this case was a bright orange light in his face. "Congratulations, you just ended up back at the hospital wing. It's not like you don't spend enough time there anyway."

"Shove it, Malfoy," Harry said halfheartedly. Unable to concentrate, he started packing up his fake supplies back into their containers more forcefully than was necessary. "Maybe I'll see you working there next time?"

The Slytherin screwed up eyes, but let the comment go. "What's got your robes in a bunch this morning?" He asked instead.

"It's nothing," Harry sighed more dramatically than intended.

He'd had a lot on his mind after learning about his magic last night and even though he wouldn't need to make any decisions now, he couldn't stop thinking about what to do. His nightmare last night didn't help, plus something about seeing Snape having a nightmare - or memory - made him wary today.

"Clearly, it's not nothing," Malfoy started, watching Harry's brain try to work through everything, "I could name at least two things I'd be pissed off about if I were in your shoes, but somehow I doubt those would be right."

Harry stared at his classmate with a completely blank expression upon his face. He did want to talk to someone about what was going through his head, and although he knew that person shouldn't be Malfoy, he found himself wanting to tell the other teen.

_Malfoy has no reason to sugar coat his answer to me._

It was the reason why he didn't talk about it to any of his friends this morning before Herbology or go with Hermione when she went to the library during their break. They would sugar coat it for him and he needed honesty right now. Even McGonagall would sugar coat it by telling him in some flowery language that he should make a decision best for himself and not pay attention to the prophesy, and then Snape would do the same without the sugar; he'd still try to cover it nicely, though.

Checking the clock on the mantle, and noticing it was almost time for lunch, he found himself asking the blonde, "Want to stay for lunch?"

"I thought you could eat in the Great Hall again? I haven't seen you there once yet."

"Is there anything Snape doesn't tell you?" Harry asked indignantly.

"Don't look so shocked," Malfoy said, walking into the kitchen where the table was already set for two, "Severus trained me in observation techniques. I've noticed things lately."

Harry gave a small growl and sat down at the table across from the Slytherin.

"At some point," he started, hoping to relieve some of the tension in his head, "I have to make a decision, but I won't have all the information I need to make an informed one. I have to... guess... what the right decision will be."

_Merlin! Since when do I ask Malfoy for advice?!_

"It's your magic, isn't it?" The blonde blurted out uncharacteristically with crisps in his mouth. Once he swallowed he added, "I had to put you out of your misery. Now you can talk freely; you're welcome."

_Arrogant bastard._

"Would you give up all of your magic if there was a chance you would actually get more later?" Harry asked, but when he said it out loud it didn't sound quite right, though he didn't know why.

"So I'd basically place a bet with my magic and if I win I get more, but if I lose it's gone?" Malfoy casually asked, like he bet all the time. "If the Skeeter article is true about becoming a Squib, it seems like a no-brainer, even for you, Potter."

"Not quite," the Gryffindor tried again, holding back his anger from the Squib comment. "The magic your betting with would most likely be gone either way, but by placing the bet you're guaranteed to lose it. Oh yeah, and the magic you get later has to be trained again."

Based on Malfoy's confused face, Harry knew he didn't explain it even close to correctly. Deciding that if he'd already gone this far, he might as well go the rest of the way, he walked the blonde through what Snape had told him about the "block" in his magic, about the option to save the block, and about having to retrain the magic underneath. The only thing he left out were his thoughts on how the prophesy related to it all and that was because he wasn't exactly sure how much the blonde knew about it.

"Well… fuck," Malfoy swore when Harry was done with his explanation.

"Thanks," Harry smirked, deep down he felt that exact same way. "That makes me feel loads better."

"Sorry," and for once Harry got the impression that the Malfoy heir actually meant it. "So what are you going to do?"

"I asked you," Harry sarcastically said back, "that was obviously a bad choice."

"I disagree, you already look better after telling me all this shite," the Slytherin took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "I'm a Slytherin, so I would try whatever it took to keep my magic."

"What does that even mean? Do you really base your decisions on your House?"

As Harry said that he immediately paused; how many times had he pushed through something because of his _Gryffindor Courage_. Suddenly, Draco seemed more like himself than he'd thought before.

"Everyone does," Malfoy said, appearing a little more uncomfortable with the conversation, "and what I meant was, if there's that big of a chance of losing it anyways, what's the risk? Go with the safer bet and that's at least having some chance of having magic after all of this shite. Seriously, what would you do without magic?"

That didn't really surprise Harry, though it did give another perspective to consider. Snape was always talking about self-preservation and if Malfoy would take that route it was likely the same one Snape would take too - as a Slytherin. And of course, that last question had been in the back of his mind since all of this started.

_You went into this knowing you'd lose your magic, so why is it a big deal now?_

He didn't get a chance to ask the Slytherin any more about his choice because a piece of parchment popped up in front of his face with _Hermione Granger_ written on it.

"I'll be right back," the Gryffindor said while getting up to let Hermione in, completely unaware of Malfoy's interest in how little of his lunch Harry had actually eaten.

The second the door was cracked open, his bushy-haired friend pushed her way in talking about something Harry couldn't hear at first.

" 'Mione!" He said to calm her down. "What's going on?"

"I found it, Harry!" She exclaimed holding out the book that Malfoy had lent them the other day at the library.

"Oh, well Malfoy's in the kitchen still," Harry excitedly said, "let me go get him, he wanted to hear about this too."

But when Harry turned to go get the Slytherin from the other room, Malfoy was already walking out and towards the door to leave.

"I have to run, Potter," the blonde called out from the other side of the room. If Harry didn't know how arrogant Malfoy could be, he would have thought the teen was embarrassed or nervous over something. "You can just… fill me in later."

Before Harry or Hermione could say a word otherwise, he left, leaving behind all his tutoring supplies still laying out in the sitting room.

"That was odd," Harry commented, then narrowed his eyes at Hermione's flushed face. "What's going on?"

"Erm..." The Gryffindor witch uncharacteristically stuttered, "he may have asked if he could… hang out with me… us… at Hogsmeade this weekend. You're coming, right?!"

Harry was sure his lungs would never be able to fill up with enough oxygen for his brain to fully comprehend what he'd just heard. "You… wait… what?!"

"You're coming right? To Hogsmeade on Saturday?" Her face cringed a little as she asked and Harry knew she was feeling guilty. "Do you need to sit down, Harry?"

That sounded like a fantastic idea to him. How the bloody hell did Malfoy end up asking Hermione to Hogsmeade?

"What did you say?" He asked his friend, then clarified, "To Malfoy… what did you say to Malfoy?"

"Well," Hermione was completely flustered and started talking fast like she so often did when she was nervous, "I said ok. I mean, it was already going to be me, Dudley, Ron, Lavender… And you, if you can convince Professor Snape to let you. So, what's one more? And he's helped us out with this book… Oh, Harry!"

His head was spinning when Hermione pulled out the book - _from Malfoy_ \- and opened it to a page she'd clearly marked. That was right; she'd come over to tell him that she found the answer to the Horcrux. Except, he already knew about it because Snape told him last night that the "block" was the cause of his magic not being able to prevent the Leukemia. Even Harry could make the connection that the Horcrux was obviously this block, or maybe even the container that was holding his other magic, like he originally thought.

"I found it!" She exclaimed and he stood to stand next to her again to see the text she was referring to

"Sorry, 'Mione," he said, feeling immensely guilty for not telling her and making her continue her hunt for something he already knew. "I found out..."

For the second time in less than a quarter hour, Harry felt his heart skip a beat and his lung instantly empty like he'd been kicked in the gut. Staring in front of his eyes were not the words he was expecting to read in this book:

**_A Horcrux is an object in which a dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul to become immortal…_ **

Harry didn't need to be as intelligent as Hermione to be able to interpret that one, and unfortunately there was only one Dark Wizard that was already so entangled in his life.

 _This is not good at all,_ was the last thought Harry had before he hit the ground unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Hogsmeade


	49. Hogsmeade

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus was midway through his lecture on Boggarts with his third year class when Hermione came bustling into the classroom. She looked around self-consciously as she walked through the younger students up towards the front where Severus stood. The professor was certain every single student wanted to know what had happened to bring this particular Gryffindor into his classroom. Based on the frightened expression on her face, the professor already knew this would not be good news before she even approached him.

"It's Harry - he passed out again, sir," Hermione said quietly so no one else would be able to overhear. "He's at the hospital wing. I think he's ok now, but he hit his head pretty hard when he fell. Madam Pomfrey asked me to come and get you."

Severus's thoughts were immediately brought to Harry's lack of proper eating, on top of the broken sleep from the previous night. It was too coincidental that he should lose consciousness so close to those two events, and yet he hadn't thought to check in with him. How could he be so thoughtless?

"Class is dismissed," he called out, and a sea of joyful sighs rang through the classroom. Not waiting for it to empty, Severus didn't hesitate when he walked right out of his classroom, the Gryffindor sixth year in tow. Having no idea the condition he would find Harry in, the professor tried to hurry without appearing out of control.

As he approached the hospital wing, he heard the stern voice of Dr. Swanson, asking very pointed questions at either Harry or Madam Pomfrey. Just last week, Albus had gotten the required approvals to connect Meghan Swanson's office and home to the floo network - exclusively to the hospital wing and Severus's quarters - however he hadn't expected the need to utilize it this soon. Knowing Harry's turbulent feelings for his muggle physician, he hurried his stride a little more so he could try to mediate any issues that might arise from her presence.

"Harry, how long have you suffered from panic attacks?" Dr. Swanson was asking when the professor arrived. Also standing protectively near Harry's bed in the back of the busy room was Madam Pomfrey.

"I don't… I mean, I guess," Harry stuttered, obviously uncomfortable with the question bordering on accusation. "What does it matter?"

"He's lived a difficult life," Severus answered, inserting himself into the conversation regardless of whether the doctor wanted him there or not. "Specifically, the last several years have been quite hard on him. I suspect he's always had a level of anxiety and panic attacks, even if he was not aware of them himself."

The heat from Harry's glare could have blinded him, however Severus didn't care at that moment. Harry from his old reality had suffered from anxiety issues and he hadn't seen a classmate murdered, battle the Dark Lord on several occasions, nor see his Godfather killed in front of him. It was basically a guarantee that the teen lying in the bed had, at a minimum, the same issues, and Dr. Swanson needed all the information to treat Harry properly. If nothing else, it sounded as if his fainting was, at least this time, induced by a panic attack and not his lack of eating.

Now that he was fully beside Harry's bed, he was able to get a good look at the situation. Harry was still in his Gryffindor uniform - less the robe - and outside of a swelling bruise and cut on the left side of his forehead, he appeared unharmed. Ignoring the expression he received from Dr. Swanson, Severus lifted Harry's chin to inspect the bruise and laceration, both of which appeared to be clotting well.

"Care to tell me what happened?"

Harry looked passed Severus at his doctor and then replied, "Not really."

"My apologies, that was not supposed to sound like an option," Severus sarcastically said, "Let's try that again, what happened?"

A low growl was emitted from Harry's throat and his nostrils flared in defiance, "I fell."

"Harry," Dr. Swanson stepped up, "based on what your friend explained, you had a panic attack."

"Fine!" The Gryffindor wizard crossed his arms over his chest, "I had a panic attack and passed out. I'm better now, and my head doesn't even hurt. Can I go home?"

Severus glanced over at Madam Pomfrey, and was pleasantly surprised when she picked up on the unasked question. At this point, they knew exactly how the other worked.

"The diagnostic scan showed no concussion," the medi-witch explained, "just a bump on the head and the laceration, both of which look to be healing nicely on their own."

"It's been almost a week since chemo," Harry added. "My platelets are fine, I am fine, I just want to go home."

While Harry's eyes pleaded to go home, nothing about his demeanor showed he was fine, but Severus knew how much the young wizard hated the hospital wing and would not open up to anyone about what happened while sitting here. As long as he was healthy, which according to Madam Pomfrey he was, Severus would allow him to leave. And ultimately, the decision was his to make.

"Yes, Harry, we can go home."

Dr. Swanson lifted her hand before Harry could get up, "I'd like to speak with you, Mr. Snape, _before_ you go."

"You are more than welcome to meet with me down in my quarters after I get Harry settled in, however he needs to be home," Severus suggested, trying to be reasonable as he ultimately had things - probably the same things - to discuss with her as well.

After what ended up being more of a hassle than he expected, Harry was finally back in his room, supposedly working on his homework. Severus went to start some tea to ease into the conversation that would likely be difficult for all parties involved. It took another ten minutes before he was sitting in his armchair with Dr. Swanson and Madam Pomfrey both sitting to his right on the sofa. The muggle doctor appeared to be uncomfortable, as if she hadn't been there several times already to administer Harry's chemotherapy.

"I suggest one of you fill me in on Harry's history. I've had my suspicions that something wasn't quite right when I found out that two of his teachers are his guardian and medical proxy," Dr. Swanson accused. "He's clearly having anxiety and panic attacks which it sounds like this happens often, and I should know why. I can't treat my patient completely if I'm unaware of certain high-level details."

Madam Pomfrey looked over to Severus, "Shall I call the headmaster? He may be the best person to provide that information."

Severus nodded his head, and Poppy obediently stood and left for the Albus's office through the floo. It wasn't that Severus himself couldn't fill the doctor in on Harry's troubled past - he definitely knew more than enough between his memories of the two realities - he just wasn't sure exactly what details Albus would feel comfortable sharing with the muggle doctor who happened to have a magical brother. He would feel more comfortable if the history of the "Boy-Who-Lived" and "The Chosen One" came from the headmaster. In the end, he wasn't even sure if Harry's past had anything to do with the panic attack the teen had this afternoon, so it might all be a moot point, however the last thing he wanted was to appear unhelpful to the doctor; that would open a whole set of inquiries he absolutely did not want started.

"While we wait, I am also getting extremely concerned about Harry's weight loss," the doctor continued in a soft, sympathetic voice. Finally, something he could agree on. "If things don't improve in the very near future, I'm afraid I'm going to have to admit him for some serious intervention."

"He cannot leave the school," Severus said as seriously as he could to emphasize how important that simple fact was. After everything that happened with Alton, there were very few instances Severus could think of that would lead to Harry in a muggle hospital, or even St. Mungo's at this rate. "The headmaster will fill you in on the reasoning, but anything you do needs to be done here at the castle for Harry's safety."

"Again I find that extremely odd and, frankly, concerning," he could see the fight in her eyes that gave away how much she cared for her patients and their safety beyond simply their health concerns. "What's been going on with him, Mr. Snape?"

He cringed again at the title that reminded him too much of his drunk, abusive father.

"Professor," he corrected her. "Please, either address me as Professor Snape, or even Severus is better than Mr. Snape."

The doctor's eyes narrowed as she thought about the words he hadn't said in that request.

"Professor Snape," she amended, "has Harry been eating?"

"Not nearly enough," he regretfully said, "I must admit, I have been distracted with an important project for work and hadn't taken as much notice as I should have, until now."

If it were a professional gesture to do so, Severus would assume the doctor had rolled her eyes at that. Instead, she held her tongue and pulled out a notebook.

"In that case, I need you to start keeping track of what he eats, how much he's eating, and at what times. This is for both meals and snacks," she pointed out where each item should go in the notebook. "Also I would recommend he not eat alone anymore, as I'm assuming he has been otherwise you would have noticed his lack of food by now. Studies show that eating in a social environment can help overcome the lack of appetite we commonly see from chemotherapy. Please do not misunderstand my intention, Professor, it's harder to notice Harry's significant weight loss on the visual cues alone when you see him everyday. That's why it's so important that it's written down, especially if you cannot be physically with him at all mealtimes."

That was a pointed comment directed at him. He'd already committed to Harry not eating alone in their quarters anymore, by either Severus being down here, a set of his friends, or trying to get Harry up to the Great Hall.

While he was considering all of this, she handed him a set of papers, "As there appears to be no physical reason he's not eating, read through these. They have some good tips and tricks on how to help patients who have a lack of appetite during chemotherapy; things like eating more in the morning, smaller meals and more snacks throughout the day, plus there's a list of foods he can eat that will give him the most nutrients for the few times he actually wants to eat.

"I need to emphasize this, Professor: you should take this extremely seriously. If he does not significantly improve, I'll be forced to take more drastic measures. At the rate he's declining, there's not a doubt in my mind that he's going to end up on a feeding tube. I don't care what you think is in his best interest, or what Dr. Smithe had done in the past, I am his physician now, and I will do what needs to be done to ensure he's healthy - wizarding world or not."

Obviously he wanted what was best for Harry and would do anything he needed to do, however her pronounced accusations were going too far. She was pushing her boundaries, and it would have felt so good to tell her exactly that, except Albus came through the floo before he got the chance to do it.

~~~~HP~~~~

The young wizard gave up on his homework before he even started. After the conversation with Snape yesterday, it was clear to him that he wasn't going to stay with his classmates anyway, so what was the point. Instead, he laid on his back in his bed, thinking about what he had learned today, the part about Hermione with Malfoy, simply because he refused to think about the Horcrux and what it meant for himself. So what if Malfoy asked to go with Hermione and _his friends_ to Hogsmeade when he hadn't even known it was a Hogsmeade weekend coming up? And why didn't Hermione tell him about this first? He doubted that the Slytherin asked her this morning, where he could understand that Hermione wouldn't have had time to tell him, so that meant she simply chose not to tell him.

_She was probably afraid to say something._

The thought popped up into his head so quickly he barely had time to register it. While physically this phase of chemo had been a big improvement, mentally he could now admit that things had not been going well at all. It was clear to himself that he was struggling, but he didn't know how to turn things around or how to ask for the help he knew he needed. Thinking through the last two or three weeks opened up a chasm deep within him and all of the grief and anger he'd kept bottled up inside came rushing out. He swiped at the edge of his eyes when tears started to fall, but he couldn't - and wouldn't - hide from it anymore.

The Gryffindor sat up suddenly when a knock on his door startled him. Snape's head appeared in the doorway and announced, "It's time for dinner."

Harry nodded, swung his feet over the side of the bed, and placed his head into his hands while he waited for the door to close. But the door didn't close, because Snape hadn't left. Rather, the young wizard felt the bed dip down as the man sat next to him and placed his arm around Harry's shoulders.

"I don't know how to fix this," Harry said with a sniffle through his humiliation.

"You need to talk to someone," Snape's low, baritone voice replied into his ear. "I won't be offended if you don't feel comfortable talking to me, but you do need to talk to someone about what's going on. Perhaps Minerva, Dr. Swanson, or even Madam Pomfrey or Molly Weasley. Honestly, Poppy would be a perfect person to talk to about everything going on. I, myself, had seeked her advice as a young teen."

Harry was comforted hearing Snape had issues like this too, but he just couldn't imagine telling anything like what he was feeling to those people. On the other hand, if Hermione really hadn't confided in him about Malfoy and Hogsmeade because of his gloomy mood, then he needed to do something.

"I'll think about it," he committed to Snape.

"That's a good start, Harry." The professor squeezed his shoulder and stood. "You need to eat now. Come to dinner and we'll discuss what Dr. Swanson had to say when she was here earlier."

There was something about the way Snape said his doctor's name that made Harry smirk. It sounded like Snape didn't like her anymore than Harry did, although he was sure it was for different reasons.

At some point, he'd have to face what was going on around him and it might as well be tonight. So once Snape left his room, leaving the door cracked, probably to hear if Harry was actually getting up and ready, the first thing he did was change out of his school uniform and into jeans and a jumper, so he was more comfortable for wherever this conversation would lead them. The next thing he did was go into the lavatory and splashed some water on his face. It was the first time he'd seen the angry bruise and cut across his head, and he now understood why everyone had been so worried. While it obviously wasn't getting any worse, the bruise was the darkest purple he thought he'd ever seen - including some pretty bad ones Uncle Vernon had given him over the summers at Privet Drive - and it was very sore to the touch. The rest of him was just as alarming. His reflection showed what appeared to be almost a shadow of his old self; his eyes were permanently marked with his exhaustion, and his deathly pallor combined with his sunken cheeks would have him worried if he'd seen it on any of his friends.

When he couldn't delay any longer, Harry slowly walked into the kitchen. Snape was sitting at the table already and Harry was surprised to find his own place setting oddly emptier than he would have expected. It consisted of roughly half the quantity of food that would normally have been served, and all of it was things he usually ate during chemotherapy: scrambled eggs, sliced avocado, and a smoothie.

"Tell me what happened today," Snape said once Harry had taken the first bite of his eggs. No matter how hard he tried, he just didn't feel like eating.

"Erm," the Gryffindor started. How could he tell Snape what caused him to pass out without talking about the Horcrux and the notebook he'd read? "Hermione told me that… Malfoy-asked-to-go-to Hogsmeade-with-her."

Harry had said it so quickly, he wasn't sure Snape even heard him. Based on the man's neutral face, it was hard to tell if he had and was simply that good at Occlumency, or he'd missed it completely. Knowing the former spy though, Harry decided it was probably the former.

"Let me make sure I understand," Snape slowly said, and in a way that didn't sound nearly as condescending as he could have made it, "the fact that your friend will be attending Hogsmeade on Saturday with Draco Malfoy caused you to have a panic attack?"

When he put it like that, it sounded flat out ridiculous, but he couldn't tell Snape about the Horcrux. _He_ didn't even want to think about the bloody thing.

"Kind of, yeah," he answered, sheepishly, "It took me by surprise, is all."

"Well, the good news is that is something not likely to happen again," he pointed to Harry's plate and the young wizard continued to eat, "Draco can only ask your friend out for the first time once, so now that is behind you."

Harry burst out laughing for reasons he had a hard time defining. It was something about the way Snape said it so seriously that just had him gasping for breath, completely unable to stop his laughter. A quick glance up at Snape showed even the professor had cracked a smile at how ridiculous he'd sounded.

Once Harry settled down and he was feeling somewhat lighter, Snape continued, "Until you feel comfortable eating in the Great Hall, I will be taking my meals down here with you. Your doctor has requested we fill out this journal of what exactly you're consuming throughout the day, in addition to when and how much."

Harry picked up the notebook and examined it. The pages looked more like a diary where he needed to fill in everything from the time he ate, to what he ate, and how much he'd actually consumed - the example line showed the fictitious person ate four almonds at 10:15 am on 1/11/96.

"Seems a bit excessive, don't you think?" he asked, pushing the notebook back across the table to Snape.

"Not at all. This is serious, Harry," the professor said in a voice so different from the one he'd just been using to discuss Hermione and Draco's date. "If this does not improve, Dr. Swanson was discussing the probability of admitting you to the hospital where she works. She has also not so nicely informed me that you may need to have a feeding tube inserted should your weight continue to decline."

That was absolutely terrifying. Like things weren't hard enough. He shivered at the thought - and visual - of it all.

"I'll do better," Harry committed, and he really meant it this time. "I'll really try harder about eating, even if I don't feel hungry."

"That's another good start," Snape continued handing him another set of papers, "Your doctor has also confirmed that there is nothing physically impeding your ability to eat and so she's given me, which I've duplicated for you, ways to help increase your appetite, or at least consume more however you can. Small things - eating at a different time of day, having smaller but more frequent meals - you can do immediately. Other things, such as eating with plastic utensils to prevent any overly metallic taste, will need to wait until I can get to a muggle store this weekend.

"Most of all though, I think speaking to someone about your troubled thoughts will have the most impact. Please consider those I've mentioned earlier, or if there is anyone else you would feel comfortable speaking to, I will arrange it. I fear your lack of appetite, while very common from chemotherapy, may also be a sign of depression."

Harry could feel himself immediately begin to flush. No, he didn't think he was depressed, but he really couldn't say things were going well for him, either. He'd had a lot on his mind lately and he could admit that most of the time, it was not happy thoughts.

"I do have a metallic taste when I eat," he mumbled, wishing he could ignore the last part, yet knowing he shouldn't. He surprised Snape, and himself really, when he added, "I want to talk to you. I just don't know how."

"Then we'll figure it out together," Snape explained, gesturing again to Harry's plate, and the young wizard was already getting frustrated about it. "We'll start with putting time aside each week to work on Occlumency, which I believe will also help tremendously, as well as discuss how you're feeling. With chemotherapy on Sunday, we'll do it Tuesday for next week."

"O-ok," Harry replied, trying to ignore the comment about chemotherapy. This one was going to be an IT followed by an IV, and he really didn't want to think of it all yet. "Thank you, Severus."

Silence fell between them as Harry focused on his food, taking small bites until he finished most of his meal. With that small accomplishment, he bit his lower lip and watched Snape, who had long finished his own dinner.

"About Hogsmeade on Saturday," The Gryffindor confidently started, "can I go?"

Putting down his reading - a Potion's Journal that looked like Snape was reading for enjoyment, rather than for education - he then raised one eyebrow. "Given what you learned today about Miss. Granger and Mr. Malfoy, do you still want to go?"

Harry gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah, well now I feel like I have to go. So can I?"

"Yes," the former spy answered, "you _may_ go on Saturday. It's the day before chemotherapy and your blood counts will be at their highest, so as long as you dress appropriately, I don't see any issues."

At least now, Harry had something to look forward to in place of just school and chemotherapy. Watching Snape across from him - who had gone back to reading as if they hadn't recently finished having a serious conversation - a weight inside of him lifted, and he just knew things would start to get better.

* * *

**_Saturday 23, November 1996_ **

When Harry woke up Saturday morning, he questioned if the white crystal snow that he saw blanketing the grass through his enchanted window was the first snowfall of the year. It seemed a little late, so it was more than possible that he simply missed the first one of that year by either being stuck inside, or because of his melancholic mood.

In the past, the snow was always a reminder of the things the young wizard had been missing in his life; things like warm shoes, a winter coat, and celebrating Christmas with his family. This year, as he watched out the window and caught the sight of the crystal flakes falling from the sky, he was filled with joy and hope. Snape and McGonagall - though he had the suspicion it was mostly Snape - had replaced his completely worn out trainers with new ones plus added a set of winter boots, this year he had a perfectly sized winter coat that was sure to keep him warm, and even if he already knew he'd have chemo on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, he also knew he'd be spending it here with Snape, and hopefully Dudley and his friends. All of those emotions were floating down and away from him with each snowflake that coated the grassy lawn out by the black lake.

Today was the first Hogsmeade visit of the year and the young wizard had a whole range of thoughts running through him, all of which were urging him to cancel. Instead of giving into the negativity like he probably would in the past week, Harry used his nervous energy to get up and ready for the day, choosing a pair of muggle blue jeans with a green jumper over a white long-sleeved shirt to stay warm under his winter coat, Gryffindor hat, scarf, and gloves.

To prove a point to Snape, he ate until over half of his scrambled eggs and toast was gone before he went back to put his boots and winter gear on.

"Do not feel like you need to spend the whole day there," Snape explained while he tucked the ends of Harry's scarf into his coat. The Gryffindor typically wore his scarf a little looser around his neck, however he couldn't deny the extra warmth he now felt doing it this way. "You can come back to the castle at any time."

"I know, Severus," Harry didn't want to linger and feel anymore like a child than he already did. He was sixteen, not six. "The only thing I know for sure is we're meeting at the Three Broomsticks-" he held his hand up from getting interrupted, "- I know, I'll keep track of whatever I eat."

With chemotherapy tomorrow and Dr. Swanson coming back, Harry had really tried his hardest to eat and fill out the food diary as she'd requested. He wasn't perfect, and it was significantly harder to eat when he legitimately wasn't hungry, but he could at least say he was doing better this time. If she ended up wanting him to use a feeding tube, nothing he said was going to change her mind, but there was no way he would be going to some muggle hospital where almost any Death Eater could get to him. That was where he drew the line and he had a feeling Snape would agree.

"I have to go before they leave without me," the Gryffindor called out from the front door before the professor could say another word, "Bye Severus, enjoy the quiet."

* * *

"So, where's Lavender? You guys have pretty much been inseparable since you started dating," Harry asked with a small chuckle, as the two wizards, plus Hermione and Dudley, walked around Zonkos checking out the Stink Pellets, Dung Bombs, and Hiccough Sweets. Ron had apparently wanted to show off the wizarding joke shop to Dudley to help give the muggle some other frame of reference - or more accurately, something more neutral than Dudley's previous experiences - to what Fred and George have at their shop in Diagon Alley. Harry felt a stab of jealousy inside to think that his best friend and cousin had made plans of what to see today without him. That used to be him, Ron, and Hermione, before his diagnosis. He noticed more often that his life was now split into things that happened before his diagnosis or things that happened after.

"Nah, she doesn't really like this kind of stuff," Ron complained. Harry kind of thought that was a big miss in their relationship, since Ron absolutely loved the joke shops, but didn't want to say anything; who was he to judge when he was completely single. "So I thought it'd just be best if she just met us at the Three Broomsticks for butterbeers afterwards."

It was their plan to meet up with Lavender and Malfoy later in the afternoon at the Three Broomsticks, except it was not one that Harry had any say in making. After his fainting episode, combined with the new food diary, Snape had hardly left him alone, even with his friends, so he'd only found out what they would be doing on the walk down to the wizarding village about an hour ago - which he took note that he should have remembered.

"That's also when we're meeting _Malfoy,_ " Ron emphasized the Slytherin's name in clear distaste; making it obvious he was looking to start a fight. "How can you trust that snake, 'Mione?! He's called you a..."

"Here we go again," Dudley shrugged, then turned to Harry and added, "they've been at it for days. Since Malfoy asked her actually."

"You know, I didn't say anything about your abhorrent choice of a girlfriend," Hermione retorted back as Harry led the group out of Zonkos empty handed. The last place they needed to have this conversation was in an enclosed space.

"Oh, so he's your boyfriend now?!"

"I didn't say that and you know it!" Hermione yelled back at their friend.

On second thought, Harry had enough of the bickering between his two friends. It was getting ridiculously petty and not at all what he wanted to hear during his time out of the castle with them. So in an effort to guide the conversation away from Malfoy, he pulled the group into a small alcove next to Honeydukes.

"I need to tell you guys something," Harry quietly said, drawing the attention onto him and away from any dating relationships.

Until that exact moment, Harry hadn't been entirely sure when or how he was going to tell them all what Snape told him the other day about his magic and the block, which he now knew was actually a piece of Voldemort's soul tied to his own. His three friends all listened intently as he went through the same explanation that Snape had told him, on how magical cores are supposed to work by organizing the raw chaotic magic, and the theory that his core was split by the same block that squibs are said to have, allowing him access to only some of his magic. He ended with the option he had to protect the block by feeding the chemotherapy his current magic during the next phase, and how that would leave him needing to relearn all his magical spells because he'd have a completely raw, untrained core. Although he didn't say anything about the Horcrux or how this block was the cause of his magic's inability to prevent the Leukemia, it didn't take long for Hermione to put the pieces together on her own.

"Harry," she said, and he could see the answers, and possibly the start of tears, in her eyes, "does this mean-"

"Yes, Hermione," Harry interrupted the Gryffindor, and confirmed what she already knew, "what you found the other day _is the block_."

"But Harry," she continued, horrified, "the only way to release the soul is to-"

"What are you two bloody talking about?" Ron interrupted, frustrating Harry because he hadn't even thought about finding out how to release the soul piece, all he knew was that Voldemort couldn't die until that was done.

Giving Harry a sympathetic expression - one that Harry hated seeing on anyone, especially his friends - the witch eventually said, appearing as if the words physically hurt her, "Remember the word, Horcrux, that Harry asked me about? Well, apparently Harry heard Professor Snape mentioning that it had something to do with getting Leukemia. I finally found it in… a book… the other day, and it's a container where a dark witch or wizard has secured a portion of his or her soul, in an effort to become immortal."

Harry shuffled his feet through the snow, feeling the substance crunch under his new boots. As a trio, they had discovered so many things about Harry, and specifically his battle with Voldemort, throughout the years, yet somehow this felt much more personal. To know that Harry was very likely carrying a piece of the dark wizard's soul would be distressing to anyone.

"But Harry," Dudley was struggling to understand, although based on both boys' faces they probably knew the answer already, "you just said Professor Snape called it a block that stopped your magic from curing your cancer. Are you saying he thinks this Horcrux caused it? It's the block?"

Harry shivered and wrapped his coat tighter around himself, unsure if it was from the conversation or the weather.

"Not quite, Dudley," Hermione started, until Harry stopped her by raising his hand while simultaneously shaking his head.

" _I_ am the Horcrux," saying the words that have been circling his head for days released another boulder from his chest, " _I_ have a piece of-"

"There you are!"

All four teenagers jumped at the sound of Lavender Brown's squeaky voice penetrating the thick dour atmosphere around them.

"I thought we were meeting at the Three Broomsticks?" The other witch curled herself against Ron's side. "I was waiting there all by my lonesome self until Draco Malfoy showed up claiming to be meeting us there too."

Hermione immediately blushed again, and Harry could tell she didn't want to say anything about having invited the Slytherin along with them.

"I told him he could hang out with us," Harry said, covering for his friend. At this point, he really did owe her for all the help she'd given him throughout the years. Remembering something he'd overheard Snape mentioning, he hoped it was true enough to satisfy Lavender's curiosity. "I guess Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott have been banned for the first couple of visits for messing with me. I figured I should offer, and honestly I didn't really expect him to take me up on it."

Dudley gave an almost imperceptible nod, though Ron appeared to be fuming mad inside.

"The git is probably using you, _Harry_ , to get information for the Death Eaters," the red head accused. "Why else would he suddenly want to _hang out_ with you?"

"If you and Lavender don't feel comfortable," Harry calmly explained, watching Hermione's expression fall at the harsh words, "I'll understand if you guys want to go your own way. Maybe we can get together tonight instead and I'll fill you in on what you missed?"

"No, Harry," Ron mumbled, "let's just go."

The five teens walked out from their little alcove and Harry breathed a sigh of relief at having diffused the potential argument between Ron and Hermione. Realistically, this wasn't something that could keep happening between them. It seemed that most of the time lately was spent dancing around how not to insult each other, and Harry was getting tired of it all; he just wanted his friends back. He didn't necessarily have the energy anymore to complain about who was dating whom, though it would be nice to feel at least a little normal in that regard.

Malfoy was sitting alone at a table for six along the back corner - probably chosen specifically to give the group some privacy - when the group entered the Three Broomsticks.

"Hey Malfoy," Harry said, choosing to sit in the seat to the Slytherin's right and the other's filled in around the circle table. Ron promptly sat on Harry's other side, turning bright red as Malfoy stood to pull the chair for Hermione to sit on his left. The red-headed Gryffindor stumbled as he stood up again to pull out the chair next to him for Lavender. Lastly, Dudley picked the final seat available, sandwiched between Hermione and Lavender before an awkward silence fell over the entire table.

When Hermione offered to go grab the round of drinks, Malfoy immediately went to assist her, much to Ron's chagrin. Harry almost laughed at the reversal of the roles; Ron now clearly jealous of Hermione's suitor though neither teen realized how obvious he was being. It wasn't until the second round of drinks - pumpkin juice for Harry as Malfoy had the forethought to ask if the small alcohol content would react with any of his medications, and the Gryffindor wasn't sure - and a couple orders of chips and crisps that the table started to relax.

The odd group talked about their latest exams, the Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff Quidditch game coming up in December - which Harry would not be attending because he had chemotherapy that day - and finally their holiday plans, including the Christmas party being thrown by Professor Slughorn where only Harry and Hermione had been invited to, though Harry absolutely did not want to attend something as pretentious as the party was bound to be. Not to mention he had no idea who he would go with, and therefore he was determined to get out of it anyway he could.

"Well," Lavender dramatically said, placing her hands across Ron's shoulders and giving a fake pout that soured Harry's stomach, "my family goes on holiday in France for Christmas every year. I'm trying to convince them to let me stay here with my Won-Won this year, but it's not working."

"Maybe _Won-Won_ should go with you, instead?" Malfoy suggested, stifling a laugh.

"Oh!" The bubbly Gryffindor jumped up and down in her seat, clapping her hands exuberantly. "I bet my mum would love that!"

"Thanks, Malfoy," Ron narrowed his eyes across the table.

"Hate to be bearer of bad news, Ron," Harry finally spoke up, "but I doubt your mum will allow that."

"Seriously?" The only Slytherin said, astonished, "I'd assume with that many kids, they'd be looking for any reason for one to leave. I'd think you could get away with almost anything at this point."

At that comment, Hermione hit Malfoy across his arm saying, "Draco!" at the same time. It was small, but firm, and definitely done in a way that Harry took as her flirting with the Slytherin. Harry shook his head to rid that image away. This was definitely not the conversation he wanted to be a part of, especially given his own misgivings with his own "family"; one of whom was sitting across from him.

"As if being an only child made your life oh-so-difficult, did it, Malfoy?" Ron spat back to the blonde, practically yelling it in the process. Luckily, it was always noisy in the pub and no one around them seemed to notice, "We all know you got whatever the bloody hell you wanted, so don't even pretend it was any different!"

"You're right about one thing," Malfoy had lost some of the fire in his taunting, "my parents didn't give a damn what I did, but for very different reasons."

Ron rolled his eyes and Harry knew that if this was going to be their "group" going forward, it was never going to work. Ron and Malfoy were too different to be amicable towards each other. Something would have to change, otherwise his friends would be torn apart.

"What about you, Hermione?" Malfoy asked as if him and Ron hadn't just had a row over their families. "Do you have any Christmas traditions? You normally stay here don't you?"

Hermione couldn't hide her surprise by the sudden change of direction or that the blonde had paid enough attention over the years to know that she usually stayed at the castle.

"When I was younger, we used to visit family in London on Christmas Eve, and then come home and have cookies and milk before bed," the bushy-haired witch explained to the group around her, "and Christmas day was spent in my pyjamas all day or playing in the snow. I loved having snowball fights with me and my mum against my dad. I think he used to let us win though because I was completely awful at it really."

Harry's stomach dropped as she explained this all. After their first year, she'd given up her perfect family Christmas and stayed at the castle with Harry. Well, besides last Christmas when they all went to Grimmauld place after Mr. Weasley was attacked.

_How was that really less than a year ago?_

It had been the last time Harry had seen Sirius alive. The irony wasn't lost on him that it was when his Godfather had given him the two way mirror right before he left to go back to school because the man was afraid of what Snape would do to him during their Occlumency sessions. Of course, Sirius had been right at the time, but Harry didn't want to make any more trouble. If only he'd opened that package, where would he be now if he had a way to contact and make sure Sirius was alright that night.

"Aren't you and Dudley the same age?" Harry was brought out of his negative thinking by Lavender's high-pitched, curious question. "You're practically twins, but cousins. Bet that was interesting growing up."

Giving a quick glance around the table, Harry saw both Ron and Hermione immediately look down at their hands - Hermione's in her lap and Ron's folded on the top of the table - neither speaking up to the limited knowledge they had about their friend's childhood growing up with his muggle relatives. Harry resisted the urge to succumb to the heavy stone that was now sitting atop his chest from the question, and instead made eye contact with Dudley. His cousin's blue eyes were filled with a deep regret that Harry hoped was for the life they both wished they could have had.

"Yeah," Harry answered after the uncomfortable seconds ticked on, "we're only about a month apart in age, but didn't start getting on until recently. Took a bit for us to grow up, I guess."

It was the best he could do and Harry could tell Dudley was already feeling as uncomfortable as he was with the conversation that revolved around family holiday traditions that he didn't want it to drag on. It would be his cousin's first Christmas without his parents, and Harry could not let that go unnoticed, so he decided to take some control over the direction of the conversation.

"You should stay at the castle for Christmas, Dudley," Harry said across the table, "I'll obviously be staying again this year and you're more than welcome to spend it with me and Severus. Unless of course, you want to visit with Aunt Marge. I know you guys used to be close."

It was Dudley's turn to flush. It seemed each member of their unofficial group had gotten their chance to be embarrassed over one thing or another that afternoon. Harry's was when both Hermione and Malfoy reminded him that he needed to at least nibble - Hermione's word - on the chips or crisps.

"Well, I am staying here actually," Dudley proudly replied. "Professor Dumbledore offered me an official part-time position helping teach muggle studies. I guess you can say it's kind of like a paid internship. I'll be working under Professor Burbage learning how to teach magical students about living among muggles. I'm even going to get my own official set of quarters."

"That's great, Dudley!" And Harry found himself actually meaning it. Although he'd been having clashing feelings about his cousin living in his world, ultimately he knew the other teen needed something to keep him going, plus this would guarantee he stayed as safe as possible from Voldemort for at least the next six years while the megalomaniac continued to gain power during Harry's potential break from magic. Pushing those negative thoughts from his mind, Harry continued, "You're going to love the castle during the Christmas holiday. It's so empty and quiet."

That kick started a conversation of all things that had been done during the holidays when the castle was practically empty. Harry, Ron, and Hermione started laughing, but refused to say a word about their Christmas adventure using Polyjuice potion during Christmas of their second year, choosing instead to focus on what Malfoy and Lavender had to add to the conversation.

Harry spent the rest of his time at the Three Broomsticks simply observing the dynamic of their group. No matter which way he tried to look at it, him and Dudley were the fifth and sixth wheel to this unofficial double date. On the one side of him, there was Ron and Lavender acting more like they were in some sappy romance movie and could barely keep their hands off one another. Dudley, who was sitting on the other side of the couple from Harry, kept giving his cousin a look that bordered on disgusted and amused. On his other side, and quite the opposite yet equally uncomfortable to watch, was Malfoy's overly formal attempt at flirting with Hermione, including going as far as asking about what her parents did - then trying his hardest not to make any comments about muggle dentistry - and her career plans after Hogwarts. Harry was most surprised to hear Malfoy say that he wanted to go into a career in healing. While the Gryffindor could have made the assumption based on his new placement in the hospital wing, he didn't expect the blonde to announce something like that to the table of Gryffindors. Overall, everyone appeared to be having a good time and while Harry had some good laughs, deep down he knew his heart wasn't fully there.

"I think I'm going to head back, guys," Harry said, interrupting Malfoy's vivid description of the Manor he grew up in. No one else at the table would know that Voldemort was living in that very same home, giving absolutely no context to the Slytherin's face of pure disgust.

"You feeling alright, mate?" Ron asked with a small giggle over something Harry couldn't see under the table, but it caused the red head to flush the same color as his hair.

"Yeah," Harry lied. He wasn't about to tell them all how uncomfortable he was feeling at that moment. Instead, he simply stood to leave, "I'll see you guys later."

Maybe it had been a bad idea in the first place; hoping that surrounding himself with his friends and their "normal" activities would help him forget just how abnormal he was lately. Perhaps Snape was right, and talking to someone who was not one of his friends would help clear the abandonment and guilt from his mind. It wasn't even like they were doing anything to make him feel less included; it was just a feeling that was always there with him.

He was trudging through the snow back towards the castle, paying zero attention to the people around him, and lost in his own thoughts. He'd wanted to finish his Christmas shopping just in case he wasn't able to make it out for next Hogsmeade weekend, which wasn't going to happen now. He had come to the realization that he would need to owl order the rest, when a hand was placed on his shoulder, and pulled him around.

"What the hell?" The Gryffindor called out while brandishing his Holly wand.

Malfoy was standing in front of him with his hands held up in the air showing he meant no harm. In his left hand held Harry's red and gold Gryffindor scarf. He'd taken it off inside the pub, and must have forgotten it when he'd left so abruptly. Though now that Harry thought about it, he didn't remember seeing the scarf with his other winter gear while he had put everything on to leave.

"Woah, Potter," the other teen called out. "Just wanted to bring you this, thought you'd get cold on the walk back without it."

Harry grabbed the scarf that was offered to him and tightly wrapped it around his thin neck, tucking the ends into his coat with a small smile. Now that it was back in place, preventing the cold from seeping down the front of his coat, he questioned how he didn't notice its absence.

"Thanks," Harry replied, "I've had a hard time remembering small stuff lately."

_I shouldn't have told him that._

"Mind if I walk with you?" Malfoy asked, motioning to the direction Harry had been headed, back to the castle

"What about Hermione?" Harry gave a skeptical expression to the Slytherin.

"She's gotten pulled away with Lavender to look at dresses for Slughorn's party."

The Gryffindor gave a small chuckle; he was sure Hermione was going to absolutely hate that. Since he couldn't find much other reason to tell Malfoy to sod-off, he simply nodded and both boys started walking back to the castle.

"So what's going on with you and Hermione?" Harry eventually asked.

"Nothing," Malfoy said, so quickly it was obviously a lie.

"It's none of my business really," at this point Harry stopped and faced his former nemesis, "but seriously, I don't buy how you can go from calling her… that name, to wanting to go out on a date with her, even if it's surrounded by her friends."

Something about how he'd said it brought him back to the conversation he had with Snape and the professor's relationship - or lack thereof - with Harry's mum after he used that name. As Sirius had once told him, things aren't always black and white, good or evil, magical or muggle, and it was something he found himself pondering often lately.

"Things change, Potter," the blonde replied, "you of all people should know how that happens."

He was about to counter that argument - that you don't just go from hating someone to whatever he was thinking about Hermione - but he stopped himself just in time. Wasn't that pretty much what had happened with him and Snape? He'd gone from hating the man almost more than Voldemort, or at a bare minimum a very close second, to thinking of the man as a father figure? There were extenuating circumstances between him and Snape, but Harry didn't know that something similar _didn't_ occur between Malfoy and Hermione.

"Fine," Harry conceded, "but if you do a single thing to hurt her, I don't care if I have to use every last bit of my magic, you _will_ regret it."

"Not that I needed your permission, Potter, but the message is loud and…"

Malfoy trailed off as he half ducked behind Harry's thin body. If he expected to be hidden, the blonde was going to be greatly disappointed. Following the path where Malfoy's eyes led, Harry saw a lanky man with balding brown hair walking in the opposite direction of the two teenage wizards. Harry had no idea why this particular wizard - Harry naturally assumed he was a wizard, being that Hogsmeade was a magical village - held the Slytherin's attention so much, but it was obvious that Malfoy did not expect to see him there.

"Earth to Malfoy," Harry called out, shaking the blonde's shoulder. "Who is that?"

"It's… Matthew..." Malfoy said breathlessly and confused, as if seeing this man walking down Hogsmeade was the strangest occurrence to ever happen. He then pulled Harry by the wrist and started creeping in the direction of the unknown wizard. "Come with me. Do you have your invisibility cloak?"

"How do you-"

"Not now, Potter," Malfoy shushed him, infuriating Harry in the process. "Do you have it or not?"

"I don't really make it a habit of carrying it with me at all times," Harry sarcastically answered, "I wasn't really planning on following some dodgy wizard today."

"Stay quiet then," the Slytherin replied, ignoring Harry's attitude that had gone with the response. "And stay behind me."

"Or I can just go back-"

"I said to be quiet," Malfoy reiterated, while both boys continued following the other wizard. "I don't believe in coincidences and this is one big bloody coincidence to see _him_ here _now_."

Harry was beyond confused and thought the blonde was starting to sound too much like Snape, or even Moody, for his own good. He was about to tell the teen exactly that, when the Matthew-bloke stopped at the alleyway between Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop and Mister Enurchus' Ancient Apothecary, peered around, then walked into the dark gap. Obviously the man was up to something and if Malfoy wanted to know, then so did Harry. The two students approached the alleyway slowly, trying to soften the crunching of the snow beneath their boots as they approached the space between the two stone buildings; Harry's heart was beating so ferociously, he thought for sure it was loud enough to give away their location.

_What if it's a trap?_

The thought bounced into Harry's mind and stuck there as if placed with a permanent sticking charm. What if it was a trap, and Malfoy was working with whoever Matthew was, to get him away from his friends and deliver him directly to Voldemort. The Gryffindor's thoughts went back to his scarf that had been missing from the table when he'd collected his things to leave. Had Malfoy taken it intentionally to set him up? Harry had only barely turned to leave, when he heard the long drawl of the last person he expected to hear anywhere outside of Azkaban, least of all so close to the castle.

"It's completely necessary otherwise I would not be here, you fool!"

Both boys' eyes met - emerald ones filled with rage and grey ones filled with fear - before they peeked over the side of the Apothecary building. In front of them stood the wizard that Malfoy referred to as "Matthew" with his back towards them, talking to none other than Lucius Malfoy - who was definitely not wasting away in Azkaban.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next: Lucius Malfoy


	50. Lucius Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone reading, reviewing, and following! Hope you all enjoy this one!

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing as his emerald eyes widened to take in the scene before him. There was no denying the man facing them, and who hopefully hadn't seen them, was Lucius Malfoy. He looked every bit as evil as the last time Harry encountered the man at the Department of Mysteries, but the air of arrogance that had always surrounded him was no longer there. In its place was a layer of desperation; as if this Matthew-wizard held the key to Lucius's survival. The elder blonde's eyes were shifting back and forth rapidly like a scared, trapped, animal, and while the Gryffindor could see his lips moving, he couldn't comprehend a single sound coming from them.

Time seemed to standstill when Harry and Draco finally flung themselves back against the front wall of the Apothecary, trying to hide from Lucius and Matthew. There were a thousand thoughts running through Harry's head - one of which was how great it would feel to hex the blonde man for his role in Sirius's death - and Snape would be proud that none of those thoughts included staying to listen to whatever was being said between the two wizards. He had to assume that whatever it was, it was not something legal. After all, normal people didn't talk about legal things in a dark alleyway.

"What's your father doing out of Azkaban?" Harry whispered to the shocked Slytherin on his right.

If Malfoy's face was any indication, the other boy had no idea his father had been "released", or more likely "broken out". More alarming to the Gryffindor though was the fact that this breakout had not been reported - at least as far as Harry had read - in the news, meaning this was either a very recent development or Voldemort was absolutely p controlling the media outlets. It didn't take a genius to know it had to be the latter, which wasn't too surprising, but definitely cause for some concern.

"Let's go!" The Gryffindor whispered, pulling Malfoy's arm away from the clandestine meeting. "We should go tell Severus."

"But… "

Harry could see the conflict in the grey eyes staring off towards where the teen's father stood. Malfoy was visibly torn between his loyalty to his family and that of the Order. Trying to place himself in the Slytherin's proverbial shoes, Harry could appreciate the confusion caused not only by seeing the man that the Malfoy heir had once worshiped not sitting in prison, but also that this same man did not seek out his son. And to make matters any more complicated, if the blonde teen originally made his decision to join the Order as a spy because Voldemort left his father rotting in Azkaban, what would seeing his father hiding in Hogsmeade do to him?

"Draco," Harry quietly commanded. He'd intentionally used Malfoy's given name since it always had a grounding effect on him in those early days with Snape. He was rewarded with a set of grey, angry eyes upon his own, "We have to tell Severus. You're not just going to strut in there and interrupt whatever it is, likely illegal, they're doing."

It seemed to work, as the other teen straightened himself up taller.

"Malfoy's don't strut," was all he said, turning to follow Harry's urging to leave the potentially dangerous situation.

"Sure they don't," Harry sarcastically replied, running up behind Malfoy on their way back to the castle.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus was spending his "quiet day", as Harry had called it, in his laboratory. With only five days left until he could test the black substance, he was definitely feeling the pressure. It didn't help that he was now trying to stay on top of Harry's eating while keeping a close watch on his overall demeanor. Whether it was because of Harry's knowledge of his magical block or because of their honest conversation regarding his possible depression, the Gryffindor had seemed just a bit lighter in the last two days than the last two weeks. In fact, the professor found himself dreading the upcoming chemotherapy tomorrow in fear of it bringing back Harry's sullen mood.

He was more lost in his thoughts than normal and hadn't noticed Harry or Draco entering his office on the other side of the door at the top of the stairs as he otherwise would have. It wasn't until the door to his laboratory swung open, with such a force that he was sure the wall behind it would have cracked had it not been made of solid stone, that his attention was brought to his two students. Both of them were out of breath, as if they'd run the entire way from Hogsmeade to his quarters, and their cheeks were flushed red; from the cold or the running, Severus wasn't precisely sure.

"Severus…" Draco called out, leaning against the table top to support his weight. "He's… out… Hogs… meade… Harry… "

Turning to the Gryffindor, Severus went to check that there was nothing physically wrong, although he knew the message didn't necessarily allude to anything of the sort. Harry was rapidly removing his winter gear, including his hat, scarf, gloves, and coat, also gasping for breath.

"Will one of you stop moving enough to catch your breath and tell me what happened," the former spy was using his Occlumency to push away the panic that was creeping into his mind; the visions of Death Eaters and Voldemort himself.

"It was Malfoy," Harry finally said and Severus ignored for the moment how he was clutching at his side. Harry must have picked up on Severus's confused expression because he quickly added, "Not Draco! Lucius was in Hogsmeade!"

No amount of Occlumency was going to hide the astonishment on his face. If Lucius was out of Azkaban, this was news to him, which meant it was also news to the Order. No good could come from it, no matter which way he tried to look at it. How had there been no word about a breakout from Azkaban, and who else had broken out with the Malfoy Patriarch?

Before he could answer any of that, he needed to handle the situation in front of him and it was likely a very betrayed feeling Slytherin. Using his wand to summon over two stools for the teens, he gestured for them both to sit. Then he placed a stasis charm over his cauldron, silently thanking that this happened at a point that would not ruin his weeks of work.

"Take your time and catch your breath," he carefully said, and when it seemed like they were more comfortable, he spoke to Harry first, "I need you to go to your room and wait for me there. Once I have a better idea of the situation, I will come up to see you."

Harry wanted to protest, the former spy could see it in his eyes, but to his credit he did not react to that desire. Instead he nodded his head, gave Draco a saddened expression that Severus had seen others give the Gryffindor many times over the last several months, and walked up the stairs presumably to his bedroom.

"First, are you alright, Draco?"

Severus took the seat Harry had vacated and watched the blonde for any signs of distress. There was no way Draco would not be considering how having the knowledge that his father would be out of Azkaban before Christmas would have affected his decision to align himself with the Order. If Severus did not tread the next conversation carefully, it could be detrimental to the teen, as well as Harry and the Order. While they'd done a very good job at keeping Draco compartmentalized away from any large secrets should the Dark Lord try to rip them from his mind, it did not necessarily account for the things Draco could freely provide on their cause and Harry.

When the Malfoy heir didn't answer - a clear sign he was not alright - Severus tried another approach, "Are you certain it was your father?"

That had the intended effect as the boy in front of him jumped off of the stool and ran his hands through his messy, platinum blonde hair.

"Of course I'm certain!" He yelled back at his mentor, "Don't you think I would recognize my own father?"

"Could it have been someone using Polyjuice to disguise themselves as him?"

"Who would fucking want to do that?" Now the teen started pacing, "If so, they're completely moronic for choosing someone who every single wizard knows is in Azkaban. I'm not even that stupid, Severus! Not only that, I don't see how Polyjuice would have gotten his bloody Azkaban tattoo on his neck if the hair was collected before he went away."

That last sentence was laced with fear and regret. It was said in a way that showed Draco was still terrified of something like that happening to himself.

"Tell me what you saw."

Draco took a deep breath and sat back down on the stool across from the professor. Severus could see the questions in his eyes as he worked through what had happened that afternoon.

"I followed Potter out because he left his scarf at the table and when we were talking," at this point the teen flushed a bit and Severus didn't want to question any more about that, "I saw Matthew walking past us. We were going towards the castle and he was going into town. It was too coincidental, so we followed him."

 _Foolish boys_ , he thought. They could have gotten themselves killed or at a bare minimum a one-way ticket to the Dark Lord himself.

"And I take it Matthew was meeting with your father?" Severus added. It didn't take Severus's keen observation skills to know that was where this was headed.

"Yes," Draco replied, "it's strange, isn't it?"

It wasn't at all strange to the professor given their odd encounter with the skittish man earlier that month; and then adding that Lucius was now out of Azkaban. The latter was what concerned the former spy the most.

"What did you overhear?" It was an assumption made on his part, but one he felt confident in making.

"My father said that whatever he was asking for was necessary. He was angry, but that's nothing new."

Severus watched the teenage Slytherin carefully and once he was satisfied that the blonde was stable enough, he asked again, "Are you alright?"

Draco clenched his pointed jaw in an attempt to remain in control of his emotions and Severus proudly saw the Occlumency mask fall upon his face.

"I will be," the blonde said confidently. "Why didn't they tell me, Severus? My mother could have gotten word to me somehow."

He could feel the anxiety uncharacteristically radiating from the teen, feelings of guilt and abandonment were sure to be going through the young wizard's mind.

"I don't know the reason, Draco," he answered, "but whatever it is, I'm sure your parents did not wish to cause you any unnecessary worry."

"Should be a great Christmas holiday this year."

That was a situation the former spy had not yet considered. On the one hand, he knew Draco would not want to leave his mother alone with the Dark Lord any longer than absolutely necessary. On the other hand, if Lucius is at the Manor as well, the Matriarch would understand wanting to keep her child safe from both the Dark Lord and his own father.

"I can't stay here," Draco continued, as if he was reading Severus's mind; an impossibility but concerning nonetheless.

"Perhaps-"

"No, Severus," the teen argued again, "I can't leave her alone in that house and _hide_ away here."

"If you remember, it was my suggestion that you hide in the first place," he pinched the bridge of his nose and immediately pulled away from the foul smell of potions ingredients still on his hands, drawing his attention to the cauldrons behind him. Nothing could ever be easy. "He cannot know your status within the Order."

Draco's grey eyes met Severus's deep, dark black ones.

"That much is obvious."

"No, Draco," the former Death Eater warned, "it will not be that simple. If your father is trying to get back into the good graces of the Dark Lord, he may try anyway he can to coax any paramount information from you. You cannot waver; your life will depend on that."

After a pregnant pause, Draco nodded his head. It would be difficult for the teen to pull this off and Severus seriously considered suggesting to Albus that he require the Slytherin to stay behind this holiday, except that would look suspicious. No matter how many different scenarios he thought through, they all led to Draco appearing distrustful to one side or the other. Instead, he would have to work closely with the headmaster to provide the new spy with plenty of innocuous information to provide the Dark Lord that appeared to have value, at least on the surface. He would definitely have his work cut out for him leading up to the Christmas holiday.

"Go back to the common room," Severus suggested, placing his hand on Draco's shoulder when he stood. "I have a lot to explain to the headmaster."

"What about Potter?" Draco refused to move until the question was answered.

"What about him?"

"Shouldn't you go talk to him? I mean, the last time he saw my father was when…"

For the second time, Draco clenched his jaw tight, refusing to bring up the exact situation that had caused the Gryffindor so much pain and anguish at the end of term last year. No one, not even Draco now, could deny that it seemed like Harry was destined to be parent-less and alone. The Dark Lord had taken everything from that child, starting from an event he couldn't even remember, and all because Severus had overheard that awful prophesy. The former Death Eater would continue to try to atone for that sin until the day he died.

"I'll talk to Harry," Severus finally said, "now go try to calm down a bit. Whatever you do, you are not to let your mother know that you saw Lucius."

"Obviously," the teenage Slytherin replied, walking out of the laboratory ahead of his professor. He turned at the last second before exiting the office, and sadly said, "Potter barely ate anything at Three Broomsticks this afternoon."

Severus ran his right hand over his forehead. That observation coming from Draco was a very positive change to see overall, especially when the teen was considering a career in healing. As for the statement itself, he'd been counting the calories from Harry's food diary, and while the Gryffindor had been making a good effort, the professor didn't think it was nearly enough to make up for the weight and nutrition he'd lost. Ultimately, Alton should have been on top of this situation a while ago - maybe even Dr. Swanson as well - and now Severus was fearful for how tomorrow's treatment was going to go.

* * *

Against his better judgement, Severus had decided to go discuss with Albus what Draco and Harry had discovered before talking to Harry. He assumed it would be a relatively quick visit, whereas Harry's would likely be very lengthy. He couldn't have been any more wrong. Albus had the former Death Eater go through his limited knowledge of Matthew, his extensive knowledge of Voldemort in general, and then worked through all the different reasons behind why Lucius was broken out of Azkaban, especially without Draco's knowledge. When Moody was brought in for a plan to get around the clock coverage as close to Malfoy Manor as possible - which in reality was not possible and, in Severus's opinion, pointless given the amount of wards on the large mansion - the former Auror made it clear he still distrusted Draco, yet confirmed he would do as Albus requested.

It was approaching nine o'clock that night by the time the professor finally made it back to his quarters. He was frustrated, tired, and felt guilty about leaving Harry as long as he had even though the Gryffindor was sixteen, and logically the professor knew the young wizard could take care of himself. That was a big difference between the two Harry's that Severus had not yet acknowledged. It really only took a year in his old reality for Harry to trust and depend on him, but Harry was only twelve and children at that age forgive easily and move on much quicker than sixteen. With Harry here, while they'd come a long way given the antagonistic relationship they'd had before Severus showed up, he still was an extremely independent teenager. He refused to admit when he needed help or when something was bothering him. Between his negligent childhood and everything that had happened with the Dark Lord, this child had been forced to grow up far too quickly.

He took the familiar walk to the Gryffindor's room and gently knocked on the door, pondering about how lately it seemed he'd been having too many of these types of conversations with the teen. He was promptly rewarded with Harry's permission to enter his bedroom, and took his normal seat at the young wizard's desk. Harry looked like he had been reading through his advanced defense book prior to Severus's arrival, which was a bit peculiar to the professor.

"I apologize for being so late," he started with. "I had not anticipated my meeting with the headmaster to be quite so lengthy."

Harry gave a soft smile, "I take it Lucius's sudden appearance from Azkaban is kind of a big deal?"

"Your assumption would be correct," Severus responded and they fell into a companionable silence. Given Harry's likelihood of saying he was fine, Severus decided to back into the conversation regarding the young wizard's feelings about seeing Lucius free from Azkaban. "How was the rest of your time in Hogsmeade?"

If Harry questioned his motives, he did not react to it. The former spy was proud of the fact he wasn't completely wearing his heart on his sleeve, even if that meant it was harder to determine Harry's current mood. It most likely meant that he'd been actively practicing his Occlumency and they would be ready to move onto the next step very soon - defending against an active attack.

"It was different," Harry admitted, though a bit sullenly, "there were no hexes thrown, so that's a positive. Oh, and Dumbledore offered Dudley an official job here. He seemed happy about it."

"Yes, _Professor_ Dumbledore had spoken about that at our last staff meeting," Severus confirmed, hiding his own touch of jealousy because he could use an assistant teacher at the moment; more so than Charity. "Professor Burbage has said he's been extremely helpful this year."

"He seems happy with it," Harry said, "that's all that matters, right?"

"You are not responsible for his happiness, Harry."

That statement seemed to break through the wall the Gryffindor had placed up.

"I know that," he furrowed his brows as he responded. "It's just that if he can't really go home-"

" _You_ are not responsible for _his_ happiness," Severus repeated.

"Well, I disagree," the teenager sat up higher in his bed, "I'm the reason his parents were killed. I'm the reason he can't go back to his home. The least I can do is help him feel better about living here."

"That is not your job," the professor explained. "You do not have to save everyone, Harry, especially when you have enough on your plate as it is."

"Then we'll have to agree to disagree," Harry picked up his book and pretended to read, but that only lasted half a minute before he aggressively placed it down in his lap, "Why do you have to say stuff like that?"

"It's the truth," Severus confidently replied, "and it's something you need to hear and understand. How else was Hogsmeade?"

The former spy could see Harry's mind working through what had happened throughout the day. It appeared the Gryffindor would need more prompting, causing him to doubt his previous decision of backing into the conversation about Lucius.

"Why were you and Draco coming back to the castle so early?"

Harry's face flushed, but it gave the desired effect and the young wizard started talking, "I just felt like coming home. And then Draco brought me my scarf and he saw… I don't even know who that was…"

Severus took notice of Harry's use of Draco's given name as he trailed off in his thoughts. Regardless of if the Gryffindor had noticed the slip of tongue, it was significant in Harry's own growth.

"His name is Matthew," the former spy provided, seeing no reason why Harry could not know this information. "I know him from the potions community, specifically where it related to my _other tasks_."

"He's working for Vol- you-know-who, isn't he?"

Wanting to be honest with Harry as much as he could be, Severus replied, "I believe so, especially if he were meeting with Draco's father."

Having breached the taboo subject, Harry's face immediately soured.

"I almost drew my wand on him," the young wizard eventually said. "I wanted to kill him."

"I'm glad you didn't."

"Ultimately, I am too," relief filled Harry's eyes, "I doubt I could do chemotherapy from Azkaban."

"No, you definitely could not," he replied. "Tell me about Lucius. You were obviously angry."

"Of course I was angry!" The Gryffindor yelled, "If it weren't for him then Sirius…"

Harry paused, and Severus was pleased to see the recognition hit the young wizard's face that _he_ had not been responsible for his Godfather's death. It was the first time Severus had heard Harry place that blame closer to where it appropriately belonged.

"Did you know I tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix that night?"

It was an odd transition, but the former Death Eater didn't say anything about that. Rather, he nodded his head that he had, in fact, known about Harry's failed attempt at the unforgivable curses from his counterpart's memory of that fateful night. He wouldn't tell the teen how the Death Eaters all had a good laugh at his expense after they'd all been punished for not securing the prophesy; Severus included even though he hadn't been part of the plan.

Instead, he focused on further discussing Harry's guilt over the events that lead to his Godfather's death, which gave way to his feelings about his friends, school, and his magic. They went through everything he had wanted to talk to Harry about early in the week before their next Occlumency lesson, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity when it presented itself. This was not a single conversation though. They would need to continue to revisit Harry's feelings on all of these topics many times over the upcoming months, until the young wizard started feeling more in control of himself; when Harry could say things were not fine and be able to ask for help, or at least be able to use coping mechanisms - primarily Occlumency and meditation - to help guide him through those difficult times.

It was a half past midnight when Severus finally stood to leave, and Harry was looking better. It had been such a productive conversation, that the professor wasn't going to ruin it by mentioning Dr. Swanson and Madam Pomfrey's arrival in less than seven short hours. The last thing Harry needed was to be reminded of his next chemotherapy tomorrow - or rather today - which would bring his first IT since the start of Phase Two.

As he reached his hand for the handle, to pull the heavy oak door open and finally to go to bed, Harry spoke quietly from behind him.

"It's not going to work is it?"

Severus stopped and thought deeply about their conversation tonight and what could have triggered that question. It sounded as if Harry was doubting the efficacy of the chemotherapy, but they've been given zero indication that it would not work. All his tests thus far have been positive.

_Back in my old reality, things had looked positive too, until it took a fatal turn we couldn't stop._

Pushing that horrid thought aside to sort out later, Severus turned to the young wizard sitting up in his bed.

"I'm sorry," his face gave way to his confusion. "What won't work?"

"This," Harry pulled out the food diary and held it out to Severus.

This was not a conversation they needed to be having at almost one o'clock in the morning. He didn't want to dismiss Harry's concerns though, so instead he took the diary and tucked it under his arm.

"As always," he said, making eye contact with the Gryffindor, "we will handle whatever Dr. Swanson's recommendation is. You will not do this alone."

Without another word, Harry nodded and then laid down in his bed facing the wall away from the door. Feeling the weight of the room around him, Severus left - closing the door behind him - and walked slowly to his bedroom, ready to put the day behind him.

~~~~HP~~~~

"Why do you need to know that?" Harry aggressively replied to Dr. Swanson's question.

The morning came far too quickly - he'd had a hard time sleeping after his discussion with Snape - and the last thing Harry wanted to be doing at that exact moment was chemotherapy. Madam Pomfrey and his muggle doctor had arrived at the early hours of seven that morning, and he'd already had the IT completed, but apparently his doctor had things to go over with him and Snape during his IV chemo. He didn't expect those "things" to have anything to do with the living conditions while he had been under his aunt and uncle's "care".

"I don't live with them anymore," Harry firmly reiterated, looking over to Snape for help on the invasion of his privacy. "They're dead, it doesn't matter anymore."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple, Harry," Dr. Swanson continued. "I've been looking over Dr. Smithe's files and I'm surprised he hadn't addressed this with you both already."

Harry simply stared at her in defiance. First, he didn't like how she kept calling Healer Smithe "Dr. Smithe". Sure, as a muggle that was probably how she knew him, but it still irritated him. Second, she didn't have to sound so accusatory over the statement. Healer Smithe had been doing the best he could and until the whole telling Voldemort about him part, Harry had always felt safe with the man.

"Harry," Snape said, and based on his glare, the young wizard knew he'd missed a part - likely a significant part - of the conversation. "Dr. Swanson has expressed concern about your weight loss and overall nutrition."

Trying to keep an open mind, he made eye contact with the doctor and admitted, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you said."

Dr. Swanson leaned over so her arms rested on her thighs, and Harry thought she must be trying to appear more friendly that way, except it didn't work, "I said that you've done a great job at keeping track of what you're eating these last couple of days, and I can see you've taken several of the steps I've suggested to increase the quantity or at least the number of calories. However, in looking at where you started before chemotherapy, I'm afraid you physically can't catch up."

That did not sound good to Harry at all. He'd always been small and rather skinny for his age, and he could admit to himself that the scarce food from the Dursley's probably had a lot to do with it. What he really didn't want to do was say that out loud in the present company. Snape obviously knew some of what went on at Privet Drive, and he could imagine Madam Pomfrey wasn't clueless to it either, but that didn't mean he wanted to say it.

His silence was filled in with the doctor continuing to speak, "Based on what I've heard from your headmaster, plus what I see in your first physical as well as your school records throughout the years, I have to assume you were significantly underfed while living with your relatives."

It wasn't a question, however Harry gave a small, almost imperceptible, nod. That was much easier than giving a verbal response, but he'd prefer if they would simply leave it be. It didn't matter anymore, he had plenty of food he could eat, if only he wanted to eat it.

_That's the definition of irony right there._

"So what do I do about it?" The young wizard asked. "It's obviously not an issue anymore while I'm living here."

"No, Harry, that's not really the issue," Dr. Swanson responded, and Harry thought Snape seemed to relax a bit at that statement. "Being about halfway through phase two, I really had hoped your weight would start increasing with the longer breaks between treatments, especially with the high calorie smoothies added, but the fact is that your body just can't catch up on its own with what you can eat. I think it's time we discuss the option of a feeding tube overnight."

"You make that sound like I have an option," Harry flatly replied.

"That's because at this point, you do," Dr. Swanson surprised him with that answer, "however I've been told you cannot leave the castle and therefore if we don't take this step now, there may be bigger implications later. You're sixteen years old, so as long as you're conscious, I want your opinion on the matter."

In the end, Harry knew it was futile to try and argue the point, and he agreed to it as the better option compared to being sent to a muggle hospital. It was decided that starting Tuesday night - Snape's suggestion, which not so ironically coincided with their Occlumency lesson - he would receive nutrients through the tube that would be placed in his nose leading directly to his stomach. It was something that made Harry very uncomfortable to talk about, and his stomach churned as he read through the literature Dr. Swanson had left for him to look over. She seemed pleased with his agreement, while he felt a bit of pride over the fact that he managed to get out of the conversation without having to go through what living with the Dursley's had been like.

_Celebrate the small wins._

Having been up most of the night, the Gryffindor decided to try to sleep once the two hours of chemotherapy was completed. It may have only been barely lunchtime, but he was completely drained after Hogsmeade yesterday and the intense meeting with Dr. Swanson that morning.

_He could feel himself aching from every part of his body as he tried to stand from the ornate chair he'd been sitting in. While he'd been feeling ill periodically for several weeks now, today was another particularly bad occasion. The Healer, who was unfortunately no longer available to him, had spoken of Potter's illness living within his blood and it didn't take him long to determine that the muggle disease was most likely infecting him as well. He'd hoped his stronger magic would easily rid it from his body, alas things were not working well and even the extra-strength potions were not masking the pain he was almost constantly in lately._

_"My Lord," Wormtail called as he entered the large dining room._

_Taking up residence at Malfoy Manor after Severus's betrayal was done as a show of his power; that he could insert himself into any of his followers' lives should they need a more convincing reason to obey his every command. Now it seemed he had an actual reason for this Manor being the one he required. It had taken more time than he'd originally expected, but he had finally gotten the Malfoy patriarch - as well as his other followers that had been imprisoned after that failure of a night - freed from Azkaban. If he expected to live to see tomorrow, the man would be showing up with the one thing he could actually provide at the moment: access to another healer. This one would likely be as unwilling to help him as the previous one, however he had it on good authority that she specialized in the few dirty-muggle diseases that happened to infect the wizarding community, and he had his ways of being particularly convincing. Lucius's new job would be babysitting this healer to ensure she remained compliant._

_"Enter, Wormtail," he called gesturing his most fearful servant into the extravagant dining room, "has Lucius arrived?"_

_"Yes, my Lord," the skittish man bowed his head. "And he's brought Healer Walker with him."_

_So he was capable of something after all._

_"Send them in."_

_After a quick nod, Wormtail left the room in a hurry. He could feel his body start aching again and he took another sip of the stomach soother potion that did nothing to ease the cramping in his stomach._

_A minute went by before he heard the screaming of Nadine Walker as she was dragged in by Lucius's firm hold to her upper arm and the back of her neck. He could smell the fear seeping from her pores as his least liked Death Eater forced her to kneel on the ground before him._

_"I require a healer," he said, pushing his face up into her terrified one. "This is a very simple arrangement I offer you: find me a cure and I will let you live."_

_He likely wouldn't let her live regardless, however he needed some leverage with the woman who was now shaking so badly, Lucius almost lost his grip on her. It would not be in the patriarch's favor to lose the only thing keeping him alive._

_"W-w-what," the woman kneeling in front of him stuttered, "do you h-h-have?"_

_Normally, he would embrace her fear and drag on the psychological torture until he was filled with pure ecstasy. Today, though, he was feeling exceedingly nauseous and refused to show any weakness in front of his hostage._

_"I've heard it is called Leukemia," he thunderously said and quickly vacated the room, heading towards the closest lavatory he could find._

Harry's eye's sprang open and he jumped out of bed barely making it to the loo before he started sicking up. His scar was burning fiercely, as his body shook from the forceful vomiting, and Harry had no idea it was bleeding. When the next two waves of nausea had come and gone, he found himself lying on the floor with his forehead resting on the cold stones attempting to take away the burning from his vision. It must have worked because he had fallen asleep and the next thing he knew, Snape was shaking him awake.

"Harry," the baritone voice said into his ear. "You need to get up off the cold floor before you get sick."

Harry opened his eyes again and the blurred face of his professor was in front of him, and the man's strong arms reached around him to help support his practically dead weight.

"Already did, sir," he mumbled, "might do it again."

Luckily, Snape had picked up on the subtle clue and helped the young wizard back over the loo.

"Let's get you in bed," Snape sympathetically told him. "I take it you didn't sleep well last night."

"He's sick," was Harry's confusing reply. He could barely hold his eyes open, but he needed to tell Snape about his vision. "Voldemort is… oh shite, sorry, sir."

"It's alright, Harry," the former Death Eater said through his clenched jaw.

When Harry was back in bed, he had an even harder time keeping his focus and his eyes opened. He had to tell Snape about the new healer, Voldemort's Leukemia, and Lucius, so he pushed himself up onto his elbows.

"You-know-who has Leukemia. He knows about it," the Gryffindor said. "He needed Draco's father to collect… or something… a Healer. What was her name?"

Snape was watching him intently though Harry wasn't quite awake enough to recognize that fact.

"Go to bed, Harry," the professor said, tucking the green bedspread around the Gryffindor's small shoulders.

"Walker… her name is Nadine Walker, and she is really scared. I think he's keeping her there."

Snape froze in midair at the sound of the name he recognized as Harry's healer back from his old reality.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus had been completely shocked to hear the familiar name from Harry's vision after his chemotherapy. While he'd already known from Alton's interrogation and the impromptu visit to Shell Cottage that the Dark Lord knew about the Leukemia residing in his own blood, it was important for him to know that the Dark Lord now had a resource at his disposal - unwillingly by the sound of it - that Severus knew for a fact could get him the answers he needed.

The former spy spent the next two days combing his memories of those early appointments after Harry's diagnosis in his old reality. How had they decided on Severus making the potions that Harry would take? It had just been assumed; as a Potion's Master he was fully capable of creating them, and who better to brew them for his son? How had he gotten the instructions and ingredients? That came from Healer Walker, so at this point, he had to assume the Dark Lord would be on his way to possibly healing the Leukemia from his body. Now that he knew Harry's core - even back in his old reality - was split, it could be the reason the potions didn't work in the end; even though they had given every indication of working until that very last regimen.

In addition to his rampaging thoughts on the vision, Severus was getting nervous about the completion of the potion. By this time tomorrow, they would know for sure if the black substance was from the soul piece within Harry. If it was, then he would not be able to deny that Harry - his Harry - was a Horcrux for the Dark Lord. That thought alone soured his stomach so much, he was almost the one running to the loo this time. He had been so focused on trying to use the soul piece as a way to preserve any magic possible for the young wizard, he'd been putting off the troll in the room, of needing to find a way to destroy it.

According to all his research, which he could admit was small, the only way to release the soul piece was to damage the container beyond any physical or magical repair, and the only way Severus knew how to do that was with Basilisk venom - yet that technically could be healed with Phoenix tears, so it might not work in Harry's case - fiendfyre, and possibly the killing curse. Of course, the odds of Harry somehow surviving _that_ twice was improbable. No matter what he knew today on it though, once Harry was in the maintenance phase and no longer needed constant care, he was determined to spend his every extra minute on finding a way to remove the soul piece without bringing any harm to the Gryffindor. He refused to believe the only option was to essentially kill Harry.

Dinner on Tuesday night in his quarters with the young wizard was a quiet affair; both residents were deep within their own thoughts. Severus knew he was really in no condition, mentally, to work on Occlumency with Harry that night, but with Dr. Swanson and Madam Pomfrey coming by to set up the nasogastric tube to start Harry on his additional nutrients while he slept, the young wizard needed to try to clear his mind as much as possible.

"How were classes today?" Severus asked, trying to make some kind of conversation between them.

"Same as always." Harry was frustratingly pushing his food across his plate. "Why am I still going to classes again?"

"Regardless of what you choose to do with your magic," the professor started, "learning the theory now will help pick up the spells at a faster rate once you can use magic again."

Severus did not miss the _hmph_ from the child sitting across from him. It was bound to be something they continued to debate well into the maintenance phase of chemotherapy, and he was already exhausted just thinking about it.

"So, I'm still going to eat with this tube in, right?" Severus could hear the fear in Harry's voice and wished he could ease the teen's mind.

"Yes," he confirmed, "you'll still eat and drink as normal throughout the day as the tube will be small enough not to impede your regular functions. Then throughout the night, you'll get a metered nutritional fluid that will help boost your overall nutrition and weight."

Harry's emerald eyes were pleading with his onyx ones, but they both knew this was a necessary step.

"You should start feeling better overall," he added, hoping to lessen the anxiety over the situation, yet knowing it wouldn't help. "Let's go work on your Occlumency."

As expected, neither wizard was able to fully concentrate on the Occlumency lesson in the beginning, which meant they started with an exasperated professor and a burned out student. Eventually, they decided simply to sit in silence allowing Harry the chance to pull up his forest alone. That had at least gone well enough, that when a piece of parchment popped up close to bedtime with _Madam Pomfrey and Meghan Swanson_ written on it, the Gryffindor was relaxed - something the former spy definitely was not.

"Here we go," Severus said, heading to the door where the medi-witch and muggle doctor were waiting.

"You knew we were coming, Severus," Madam Pomfrey huffed with her pointer finger out at him. "I swear you do it on purpose, just so I have to walk throughout the castle and into the dungeons."

Without saying a word, he gestured for the two women to enter his sitting room, where Harry was no longer present. As much as he wanted the Matron to believe that, it was not that case tonight. He'd simply closed the floo when he and Harry were working on Occlumency. It would be a very alarming experience for Harry to be pulled from his forest by the roaring floo, which was the opposite effect he was aiming for.

"We had a lesson that could not be disturbed," Severus explained while watching as Dr. Swanson was preparing her supplies.

"Sure you did," the matron bellowed, "where is Mr. Potter?"

As if on cue, the young wizard walked slowly into the sitting room, having changed out of his jeans and jumper and into his pyjamas. It seemed to take Harry forever to cross the small room and sit onto the sofa. The procedure overall was easy and unlike when he had his port placed, this really required no medical equipment outside of the thin tube and the tape that held it in place across his cheek. For the actual placement, Dr. Swanson measured out the required tubing length and marked it so they would know when it was in the correct location, and then fed the tube through Harry's right nostril and down into his stomach. Madam Pomfrey had provided Harry a goblet of water with a straw - an item Severus always picked up whenever he went to the muggle pharmacy - to keep the Gryffindor swallowing throughout the process. Once in place, Dr. Swanson tested a small amount of fluid from it to ensure it was indeed in the teen's stomach.

From Severus's vantage point, it was not a comfortable process whatsoever and it took Dr. Swanson three tries before all parties involved had finally relaxed enough to get it completed. From there, the doctor walked Madam Pomfrey and Severus through how the actual nutrient fluid would be administered, as both of them would be responsible for setting up the drip every night and disconnecting it in the morning.

Since electronics won't work in Hogwarts - a fact that appalled Dr. Swanson - they'd be using a gravity drip method throughout the night. It would slowly administer the fluid and Harry would be getting added nutrients without needing to physically eat or get the feeling of being physically full. The idea was to do this for three weeks, which was also the length of time the tube can stay in place before needing to change it, and then reevaluate.

"I can't decide if this is better or worse than the 22 hour chemotherapy I did at the end of July," Harry said, sitting up in bed as Severus made sure everything was set for the night. The continuous chemotherapy felt almost like a lifetime ago to him.

"Definitely better," the professor replied. "I know it's hard to understand this now, but you will feel better after all of this."

"I wasn't like this in your old reality, was I?" Harry asked. "On the potions, you said I was healthier."

The professor cringed at that last word. Had the other Harry been healthier, he would not have died. No matter how uncomfortable it made him, Severus refused to lie to Harry about his counterpart's battle; about what the other side would have looked like had he chosen it.

"I wouldn't say healthier, but until the last month, he had lived his life closer to as if nothing was wrong," he paused allowing the memories to flood him. Every Sunday he would freshly brew the set of potions for that week and then leave them in the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey would have them delivered, as needed, with Harry's breakfast and dinner. Brewing that large quantity of potions was time-consuming and tedious work, but he couldn't imagine spending each Sunday any differently. The day-to-day work may have been easier in the old reality, but it had cost him so much more in the end.

"Thank you, Severus," Harry whispered, "I know I say that a lot, and at the same time, probably not as often as I should, but I do mean it. I've always had to do this stuff on my own, and well… I wouldn't be able to do it. I don't know what I'd do without your help."

The gratitude made Severus uncomfortable. He'd done so many awful things in his life, he simply did not deserve it. Instead of saying that, he replied, "You're a very strong child, I have no doubt you would have figured it out, but you are welcome."

He left Harry's bedroom that night with his heart heavy, knowing that between Harry's first night on the feeding tube and the potions being ready to test the black substance tomorrow, he was bound to get no sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Second Crossroad


	51. The Second Crossroad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing!
> 
> Disclaimer: This chapter mentions some herbal medicine advice. I've done some very basic research on what might be in Harry's potions in the AU reality, so there's some realistic context, but by no means did I look very far into it and this is not intended to be advice for how to treat Leukemia - it's for the story's purpose only.

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_"If today goes well, does that mean I won't have to keep taking the potions?" His sixteen year old son asked as they sat across from each other at the small kitchen table. They were having a quick lunch in their quarters before making their way to St. Mungo's for his scheduled February check up, as they've done every two months since August. Neither of them would complain though, as it was definitely an improvement from their biweekly visits between his diagnosis in May and the check up in August._

_"It's unlikely," Severus replied. He wasn't trying to be negative, but practical. The last thing he wanted was to get Harry's, or his own, hopes up. "We'll follow whatever Healer Walker's suggestions are."_

_Harry took his plate to the sink and started cleaning it, using the newest spell he'd taught him in preparation for when he was living on his own someday. The professor watched his son working on the task that was so normal, he occasionally forgot about the cancer they were actively fighting to rid him of. Once the dish was cleaned, Harry turned and lifted himself so he was sitting on top of the counter._

_"I bet you'd be happy not to have to spend so much time every week on the potions?" The young wizard casually asked._

_"I don't mind it," he lied again. In truth, it was tedious work that required his full attention during the entire brewing process. Normally, he would relish in the focused work and his quiet laboratory, however knowing that a single mistake would affect Harry's health was sometimes frightening. "And that's not the point. You aren't simply going to stop the potions because it's time consuming to produce them. You will stop them when you no longer need them."_

_Severus stood, bringing his own dishes to the sink, and then gently nudged Harry's back until he jumped off the counter top._

_"Go get ready," he told the Gryffindor, "I'm leaving in five minutes and due to the simple fact that you cannot apparate yet, you best be with me."_

_The professor went to his office to collect all the files he kept on Harry's test results from each visit, his previous and current potions regimens, and various notes on Leukemia in general. It was only a month ago he'd decided that once the Leukemia was in remission - and Harry was healthy again - he was going to start doing professional research into cancer in the wizarding community. Throughout his journey into the study of Harry's cancer, Severus believed that it might not be as uncommon as they'd been told for magical people to develop cancer, especially in young children before their magic had started to develop. He wanted to help expand the diagnostic process in the wizarding world to educate on this muggle disease as well as help make improvements to the treatment plan. It wouldn't help Harry's current condition, but if he could spare one father from living through the uncertainty he has daily, it would be time well spent._

_It was a combination of luck and his own persistence that Harry had even been tested using muggle methods the day he'd been brought to St. Mungo's for the bruising and nosebleeds, back in May. When all the diagnostic scans showed nothing out of the ordinary, it was the attending healer that day, Nadine Walker, who suggested the muggle blood tests. She knew a family near Wiltshire, where she grew up, that had a young child with the same symptoms and it ended up being the same cancer. He later found out that it was one of the reasons why she decided to specialize in muggle diseases wizards sometimes saw when she became a healer._

_So far, the regimen they had Harry on since that bad check up in October, was the best combination, for which Severus was grateful. After a successful visit in December, if things today went just as well, he knew there was a small chance Harry could stop at least one of the eight potions he was taking. Of course, he didn't dare tell that to Harry._

_"Good afternoon, Harry," Healer Walker said, as she entered the room holding his latest biopsy results. The air around her was positive, allowing Severus to breathe a bit easier. "I'm very pleased with the results from today's tests."_

_Harry's face immediately brightened at the news. For once, things continued to be on their side._

_"So can I stop the potions?" The Gryffindor asked hopefully._

_"Not yet," the healer replied, sitting in the chair across from the father and son and pulled out several pieces of parchment, "but I do think it's time to discuss what's coming up."_

_She leaned over and handed Severus and Harry two sets of parchment. He looked over the first, which was a schedule for his next two months on the potions. The professor wasn't surprised to see that the quantity and frequency of them was not going to change before his April appointment. The second piece of parchment had what appeared to be revised instructions for the potion Harry had been taking consistently since he started his treatments in early June._

_"As you'll see," the healer drew his attention back to the first page, "there will be no changes to the regimen at this time. You'll still take eight potions a day with the same split between the morning and evening._

_"Now, if things keep progressing as they have been, we expect you to be cancer free by the next visit. If that happens, you'll drop down to only two potions that you'll continue to take for the following eighteen months. We'll also drop your visits down to quarterly instead of bimonthly."_

_The look of gratitude Harry gave him made all of those sleepless nights brewing his potions worthwhile. He'd continue to do whatever was necessary to ensure his son stayed healthy, but it was refreshing to hear that there was a light at the end of their proverbial tunnel. There would come a time when both of them could put these days behind them and truly move on with their lives, even if that meant joining the Aurors against Severus's wishes._

_"There is one, or rather two, small changes you'll see," she motioned to the other parchment. "There's been some recent research out of the East showing great progress with adding leaves of_ _ Euphorbia formosan _ _and flower petals from_ _Vernonia amygdalin a_ _. I've given you the latest procedure for it."_

_During his own studies of Leukemia in the wizarding world, he too had come across the study of these two particular plants having a significant impact on the blood cells for Leukemia patients. In fact, in certain cultures, they had started adding these as supplements to the muggle chemotherapy, though the results from those were less potent than when taken as a potion. Overall Severus was happy that the healer and Potion's Masters at St. Mungo's had seen this research, otherwise he would have suggested it to them._

_The professor looked over the list and the steps for the potion adjustments. It was simple enough to add and wouldn't take much more time or effort than he was already putting into the potion. He would need to start the process by adding five whole leaves of_ _ Euphorbia formosan _ _to the cold cauldron right at the beginning, and then add the finely ground flower petals from_ _Vernonia amygdalin a_ _midway through; after the second half hour boiling to be exact. This would be simple and would hopefully help get Harry the rest of the way to being cancer-free by his April check-up._

_They were walking side-by-side leaving the hospital, heading towards the apparation point to go to Hogsmeade before walking back to Hogwarts, when Harry said, "Thank you, Dad. I know I don't say that nearly enough, but thank you for all the work you're doing. I don't know what I'd do if… it's just, the Dursley's wouldn't have even bothered."_

_He reached over and gave his son a hug, even if Harry didn't normally like getting them at sixteen. Looking him over closely, from his always messy raven hair, emerald eyes, and wire glasses, Severus silently questioned how he ever saw this child as James Potter. Harry may be the spitting image of James, but he couldn't act any further from him._

_"I love you, Harry," he told the young wizard in front of him, "No matter what happened with your relatives, never forget that you are loved."_

~~~~SS~~~~

**_Wednesday 27 November, 1996_ **

Today was the day they would know for sure if the black substance Severus collected last month was actually dark magic from the piece of the Dark Lord's soul within Harry. It was a lot to think about and he found himself getting overwhelmed by it all, which is why he continued to only focus on the immediate step in front of him. Today, that was dropping the black substance into the completed potion, something so simple that could have potentially catastrophic results. Now that Harry knew about the block - in theory - he would not necessarily need to tell him about the soul piece until he knew how to get rid of it. If the young wizard knew, it would completely unravel him, and right now Harry needed to stay as positive as possible.

While the potion was technically sitting in its cauldron ready to test, Severus made the decision at four this morning, when he'd gone to unhook Harry's nutrient feeding, not to actually run the test until after dinner with the Gryffindor in an effort to try and stay focused on his classes. Today, during his sixth year class, they were officially starting the incantations for the Patronus charm and he needed to be focused to help them through it. He didn't want the thoughts of how to rid the soul fragment from Harry's body running through his head during class while he was trying to demonstrate the Patronus; no, that would definitely be counterproductive.

Severus was pleasantly surprised when he walked into the kitchen for breakfast and Harry was already sitting at the table, eating a small plate of peanut butter toast and scrambled eggs. He was sure eggs, along with ginger and avocado, would be near the top of the list of foods that Harry would not be able to eat again without thinking back to his chemotherapy days. It was a thought that saddened him; that this battle would continue to scar the young wizard long after the cancer was gone.

As he had anticipated - though the teen in front of him surely had his doubts - Harry had woken up that morning with more energy than he's had since before the Department of Mysteries incident. Not so surprisingly, that also happened to coincide with the timing that Harry had stopped eating as he mourned his Godfather's death. It was an observation he'd noticed immediately upon entering this reality, yet he could not act upon it because of his counterpart's hatred for the Gryffindor. Thinking back, he questioned how no one could have noticed something was wrong back then.

"How are you feeling this morning?" He asked, pouring himself a much needed cup of coffee.

Harry took a second to contemplate that question, a subtle change in demeanor no one else would have noticed in the teen.

"I'm actually feeling pretty good," he gave Severus a small smile, as if admitting he'd been wrong. "My throat's a little sore and my nose is running, but that's really it."

Dr. Swanson had explained that both of those were common side effects as his body adjusted to the foreign object inside of it, but just in case Severus placed his hand on Harry's forehead to confirm there was no fever.

"Do I have to go to class this morning?" Harry bluntly asked, and Severus wasn't sure if it was because of the magic or the tube causing his desire to miss one of his favorite subjects.

"Of course you do."

"But I can already cast a Patronus, and since I can't use magic anyway there's really no point of me being there." For once, Harry's attitude surrounding his magic was one of genuine curiosity instead of dread.

_We really should have done this sooner._

"Then you can assist the other students in the class," he hadn't planned on utilizing Harry's help, however it was a good use of the Gryffindor's unique talent. After all, he had a feeling most of the members from Harry's defense group last year would be able to properly cast a Patronus; likely on their first or second try. If Harry could teach that spell to a group of children at least a year too young to learn it, then he could help the rest of the class attempt it.

"Oh, wonderful," Harry complained, "I'm sure all the Slytherins will love to learn from me."

"You'd be surprised, Harry," he flatly replied, not really believing it himself. "Now finish up breakfast or we'll both be late."

When the professor would later reflect on that class, he only had himself to blame for the abysmal lesson.

"Mr. Potter," Severus called from the front of the classroom as the students vacated their desks, "I have it on good authority that you've previously taught this spell to several of your fellow classmates. As such, I expect you to assist where others may need it for today's lesson."

Harry nodded his head, clearly doing his best to ignore the sneers from the other side of the room. With the wave of his ebony wand, all the desks moved to the sides giving plenty of room for the students to practice.

"Everyone spread out," the professor called. "And remember, focus on the happiest memory you have, allowing it to fill you up, before you speak the incantation."

He should have known it would not go well. Less than fifteen minutes into their practice, he'd had to perform counter jinxes on Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnegan, Ernie Macmillian, and Pansy Parkinson. The last was not due to an attack on the Slytherin witch herself, but instead it was due to her attempt to jinx Hermione. Naturally, the Gryffindor witch blocked - very well, Severus noted - the attack, sending the jinx straight back to Pansy who did not react with her own block fast enough. Ultimately, he was truly lucky to have ended the class without a single student "accidentally" injured, though half of the class ended up with detentions; most of which were his Slytherins.

Midway through the lesson, with most of Harry's defense members creating almost perfect Patronus', it continued to further divide the students. Given the strong hostility building as the class went on, he ended up forcing Harry to sit out during this lesson. Which of course, given Harry's tendency to be a natural leader, Severus still found the young wizard walking around the classroom occasionally helping one of the other students.

"You have to let the feeling fill you up inside. I found it easier if I closed my eyes and pictured the memory in as much detail as I could first," he heard Harry explain, and when the professor took another look back, he was surprised to see it was Draco that Harry was talking to.

"I don't think I'll have time to sit down and close my eyes and think of a memory when there's a dementor coming towards me," the blonde said back, but he obeyed Harry's instructions.

"It's a bit like Occlumency," Harry continued on, "you need to do all these steps first, but as you get better with it, you won't need to do them anymore."

Severus was filled with pride that Harry could talk about Occlumency so easily. It was only a couple of months ago when just whispering the word Occlumency pushed the Gryffindor into a panic attack. It was in that moment that Severus knew Harry was definitely ready to start the next phase: an attempted attack on his mind. Given how well the first night of the overnight nutrients went, the professor decided they would wait until the tube was removed, so as not to stress Harry with any other new tasks. If he had his dates correct, that would put them working on it between the end of his exams and Professor Slughorn's party; a perfect time for his first attempt at it.

Whether it was purely coincidental or not, by the end of class, Draco was the only non-defense group student able to produce the start of a non-corporeal Patronus. To help the rest of the class, he assigned an essay - that would not be handed in for a grade - for them all to write out, in as much detail as possible, the memory they were using while casting, in hopes that it would help them visualize it better and they'd have more success come Monday morning.

His day only dragged on from there since he was doing all theoretical lessons the rest of the day. Finally, the time came to test the black substance, and for reasons unknown even to himself, Severus was nervous.

Harry was in his bedroom, hopefully working on his homework with Hermione, and Draco was standing next to him in his laboratory ready to actually run the test. After all these weeks babysitting the potion, the testing of the black substance was as anticlimactic as simply dripping five drops of the substance into the boiling potion - which was now an ugly green - and watching for the reaction. If a magical signature was present, the magic would be released from the liquid in some very unclear fashion. The problem he'd quickly found with the old texts was that their process for documentation was nowhere near what it was today and therefore the "release" could be anything from a small puff of smoke to an exploding cauldron.

Draco lifted his sleeves, giving the bubbling liquid another stir and asked, "What if nothing happens? Does that mean we did something wrong?"

That was another flaw to this plan he hadn't really considered. A null reaction could mean that they brewed it incorrectly, or it could simply mean that there was no magical signature in the substance. Basically, he could have spent all this time and be no closer to any answers.

"As we do not have the time to repeat the potion, we will assume it is a negative result," Severus replied, methodically.

The blonde Slytherin narrowed his eyes, "Why don't we have time to repeat it? What's waiting on this potion, professor?"

Draco said it in just the right way, that Severus knew he somehow had an idea of what this potion would point to once they added the black substance. He didn't know how he'd figured it out or how much detail he knew about it - Harry being a Horcrux - but it was something he'd need to find out in the upcoming weeks.

"That's none of your concern at the moment," the professor sternly said. "I want you to get behind that far table, just in case this has a volatile reaction."

If it was the Dark Lord's magical signature coming out, it wasn't a matter of _if_ it had a volatile reaction; it was more like _how volatile_ the reaction would be. Taking a deep breath, he surveyed the scene in front of him. On the tabletop was the cauldron with the putrid green potion, the large phial of the black substance, and his wand. Regardless of how many times he looked around the room, there was really nothing else he needed. Therefore he came to the conclusion that at this point, he was simply delaying because he didn't want to know the truth; but he needed to know, they all needed to know.

Checking to make sure Draco was safely behind the table - with his own Hawthorne wand drawn ready to shield himself - Severus opened the phial and held it steadily in his left hand, while firmly holding his wand out in his right; hoping he would be quick enough to cast a shielding charm should it be necessary. Giving Draco one last nod, he very carefully tipped the phial of the black substance until thick black drops formed on the lip of the phial before falling into the cauldron.

Drop number one… drop number two… drop numbers three and four…

The professor paused for an extra second before giving one last tap on the phial and the fifth - and final - drop fell from the phial, almost in slow motion, into the potion. His stomach lurched when there was no reaction immediately after that fifth drop hit the potion's surface and was engulfed into the boiling liquid. He counted to five and still, nothing happened. Severus finally peered over the edge of the cauldron, watching as the potion turned from the murky green to a vibrant orange, and then the last thing he would remember seeing was a black plume of heavy smoke rise out of the cauldron.

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry had every expectation of waking up Wednesday morning feeling no different than any other morning - proving that Dr. Swanson had been wrong and he didn't need the extra nutrients - except that definitely wasn't the case. When his eyes popped open before dawn, he immediately noticed that he had more energy than he'd remembered having since his diagnosis. Stretching his always aching limbs, the second thing he noticed was that while the tube running through his nose and down to his stomach was still in place, as it would be for at least the next three weeks, it was capped closed and he was able to freely move. Sometime in the middle of the night, or the early hours of the morning, Snape or Madam Pomfrey, must have been by to remove the liquid nutrients.

 _Fine, so maybe she does know what she's talking about_ , Harry grudgingly thought as he brushed his teeth before breakfast. Maybe by the Christmas holiday, this would be completely behind him.

The rest of the morning turned out to be pretty amusing to the young wizard. His first class of the day was Defense, which Snape wouldn't allow him to skip, but it had been worth a try to ask. As expected, he'd heard the snickering from around the room about the nasogastric tube the moment he walked into the classroom, but thankfully that stopped almost immediately when Snape walked in. They were working on the Patronus charm, which of course he and most of the D.A. members could produce without any issues, so at first, Snape had him walking around the room helping the struggling - mostly Slytherin - students. As he'd predicted, none of the Slytherins wanted to learn from him, so Snape ended up telling him to sit out and work on his other assignments. It didn't last long until he was back helping out, mostly Malfoy, while also watching the other students not-so-subtly try to hex each other. By the end of class, most of the students who had snickered at him ended up with detentions for attempting to attack the D.A. members every time they created perfect Patronus' that danced around the classroom. Harry was filled with too much pride by the middle of class for the embarrassment to pull him down.

Before lunch, which he would still be having with Snape at home, he ended up in the library with Hermione, Dudley, and Ron to finish telling them about the Horcrux.

"So wait a minute," Ron whispered, looking like he was a second away from passing out, "you're telling us that _you_ have a piece of _you-know-who's soul_ living inside of you? And that it's blocking your magic?"

"More or less, yeah," Harry confirmed. "I think the potion Snape's working on has something to do with it, like he's going to be able to tell if it's really in there or not."

"That would explain how the visions are working," Hermione rationally explained, though no one had mentioned his visions. Leave it to her to find the connection that had literally been haunting him for over a year.

"How do you get it out?" Dudley finally spoke up. "Or do you have to live with this thing inside of you forever?"

Harry got the impression that his cousin was terrified of him for having a piece of the soul from the wizard that killed his parents living inside of him.

_That makes two of us, Dudley._

"Erm… " Harry looked to Hermione for the answer, since he'd passed out before getting to read that far and in Hogsmeade she seemed like she knew.

"The only way to release the soul piece is to damage the container beyond magical or physical repair," she furrowed her eyebrows and frowned, "that means-"

"I have to die," Harry interrupted her. "More importantly, that Voldemort can't die if this soul piece is still inside of me."

He lowered his head to where his forehead was resting on his folded arms across the table. It was getting hard to breathe, like a stone was placed on his chest and no matter how he tried, he couldn't get enough oxygen in, and his stomach was tied in knots. How was he supposed to be destined to kill the dark wizard if he had to die first? Though the bigger question probably was, why were they even bothering with any of the chemotherapy if he was destined to die in the end anyways?

"Hey," a voice behind him caused his head to rise, "You alright, Potter?"

Of course it was Malfoy. The Slytherin seemed to be slowly inserting himself into their group now that he was… Harry wasn't sure what he was exactly… with Hermione. The blonde pulled the chair out that was next to Hermione - and directly across Harry - smoothly placing his hand on Hermione's back as he sat down and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"I'm fine, Malfoy," he answered and then genuinely said, "great start on your Patronus in class today. Dare I ask what memory you used?"

Malfoy didn't react, but Harry saw his eyes flicker towards Hermione and suddenly Harry didn't want to know what it was.

"I could ask you the same thing, Potter," the blonde replied back without any malice, "but I have a feeling you won't tell us."

"Fair enough," Harry conceded, then he completely ignored the rest of the conversation around him, especially after he heard Malfoy ask Hermione what her dress for Slughorn's party looked like.

He wanted to finish brainstorming a way to remove the piece of Voldemort from inside of him, but then a more horrifying thought came into his head: Snape obviously knew about this already, and if Snape did, Malfoy probably knew already too. That had to be what the potion was going to confirm for them; that the black stuff was Voldemort's magic, and that same magic was now protecting his split core. The whole thing was giving him a massive headache, and the fact that Malfoy was involved somehow made the situation feel worse. Harry didn't care if Malfoy was Merlin himself or the next prodigy brewer, why would Snape tell the blonde about Voldemort's soul piece before telling him first? Given the fact that Lucius was now out of Azkaban, what would happen if Malfoy went and told Voldemort?

As he looked around the table at his friends, his heart was filled with intense sorrow. Ron and Dudley were laughing over something or other that had happened in muggle studies, and Harry gave a small chuckle imagining what Mr. Weasley would do during an afternoon with Harry's muggle cousin. Then there was Malfoy and Hermione, both intensely going over their notes from what looked like Ancient Runes; every so often Malfoy would turn his head slightly and watch the Gryffindor witch from the corner of his grey eyes.

He didn't want to die; he didn't want to leave them all behind. Yes, he'd been frustrated lately because they had all moved on living without him and that was only going to get worse next year when inevitably Harry wouldn't, or couldn't, join them for their final year. He wouldn't be with them. It used to be because he had to wait for the cancer to go away and then wait for this magic to come back, but now it would be because somehow he had to die in order for Voldemort to be defeated.

Harry's good mood from the morning had gotten soured by the Horcrux discovery during each passing hour - by the the idea of him having to die and the fact that Snape and Malfoy both knew about it - when Malfoy showed up at his quarters, with Hermione in tow, to continue working in the potion, Harry almost slammed the door into his face. The very last person he wanted to see at that moment was that particular Slytherin. In fact, if it weren't for Hermione standing next to him, he might have sent a jinx towards Malfoy right then and there; magic be damned. But he didn't, and the Snake went straight into Snape's office, presumably to the laboratory, while Hermione sat with Harry in his bedroom and they both studied for their upcoming Defense exam. Hermione was studiously at his desk writing - Harry had no clue what since they were studying and not working on an essay - while Harry was sitting up in his bed trying to focus on the book in his lap. His mind kept wandering to the Horcrux and he had to keep reminding himself _not_ to focus on it, which brought his mind back to Malfoy and Hermione's relationship.

"So what's going on with you and Malfoy?" Harry found himself not-so-randomly asking when he couldn't take in another word on dark creatures.

"Oh. I don't know, it just sort of… happened," she placed her quill down on the desk and turned to him. Her face was flushed and full of sympathy for her friend that was so secluded from his friends' lives, he didn't even know how she'd gone from hating the blonde to starting a relationship with him. "He found me after a prefect meeting, you see… to ask me if I'd go to Hosgmeade with him, and there was something about how vulnerable he looked… and acted that just… you know? It felt right."

Harry didn't really know, but at the same time he knew how awkward he had been around Cho last year and the year before when he asked her to the Yule Ball. He was a total mess and had anyone asked him about why he felt that way, he'd never be able to explain it to them. Granted, things with Cho definitely didn't work out well, so maybe that wasn't the best example to use.

"But what about his family?" Harry asked and then without even thinking he added, "He has the Dark Mark, Hermione."

"I know that," she angrily said, "and he's risking his life to help the Order and to help _you_. Please don't be mad about this, Harry. I know I should have told you, and I'm sorry I didn't."

Harry wasn't sure he'd go as far to say Malfoy was helping him, nevertheless she did have a point. Most of the animosity between the two boys had started to dissipate this year and a lot of that was because Lucius was in Azkaban. He wasn't anymore though, the man had been broken out and Harry wasn't going to be the one to tell Hermione if she didn't already know.

"I'm not mad at you, 'Mione. Just be careful, alright?" He eventually told her. "I'm sure Malfoy knows all sorts of ways to trick us into believing he's changed if he hasn't, and I need to look out for you."

Hermione stood up, and sat down on the bed next to him, picking up his hand and holding it in her own, she then said, "And I love you for that, Harry. I'll be -"

She never got the chance to finish her sentence because she was interrupted by a loud exploding sound.

* * *

Harry sat in the dark, silent, almost empty hospital wing trying not to think about the scene he and Hermione walked into after hearing the explosion - he now knew that's what it was - from his bedroom. Naturally, in the attempt not to think about, that was all he had running through his mind.

The first thing they'd noticed was Malfoy unconscious on the floor under the closest workbench upon entering the room. The two Gryffindors quickly ran to his side, rolled him over and saw the fast rising and falling of his chest showing that he was at least still alive. He had no outward injuries on his face or hands, but Harry knew that didn't mean he wasn't injured inside.

"Malfoy!" Harry called out at the other wizard, gently shaking his shoulder. "Draco, can you hear me?"

The Slytherin gave a small, painful moan and grimaced, but did not open his eyes or make much other movement. Harry was torn on what to do: leave Hermione with Malfoy and look for Snape or send her for help.

"Hermione," he finally said, "Severus keeps the floo powder up on the mantle in a brown beaker, go firecall Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall."

Hermione gave one more tearful look at Malfoy - at Draco - lying unconscious on the floor, then nodded her head and left to get help. Harry rested the Slytherin flat onto his back so he would not accidentally roll anywhere and then got up to hopefully find Snape alive.

Harry had only been in Snape's laboratory once, and it was after him and Draco ran back from Hogsmeade the previous Saturday to tell the professor about seeing Lucius. Even from that short, confusing time period, the moment he took a good look around the laboratory, he knew it was completely different now. The bottles that had lined the shelves were shattered and their contents were pooling onto the table tops and the floor. Harry briefly panicked about what would happen should they mix, but remembered back to his first year class and discussing - he repeated it in his head, using Snape's voice of course - "the proper way to store the potions and their ingredients so should they all shatter, and you were ignorant enough not to have an unbreakable charm on them, nothing will further explode".

There was black soot covering the entire top half of the room, starting from a midnight black on the ceiling and dissipating until only a few speckles were on the wall level to Harry's chest. The workbenches were also covered in the black soot, with most of it concentrated at the farthest table where a cauldron was still bubbling and a figure was slumped over sideways on the floor.

"Severus!"

The professor was unconscious and quite obviously hurt. His black hair was sticky from whatever the potion was and his normally pale face was covered with the black soot. The young wizard could see blood seeping through the soot, leaving trails of thick black along his face, that were met with the drops of tears Harry didn't realize he had falling from his eyes. He tried to lift Snape up by his shoulders, but it was no use. Unlike Draco, Snape was far too strong for the ill wizard to move any further.

Harry didn't remember Hermione returning with Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. Nor did he remember Professor McGonagall pulling him from Snape's side so Madam Pomfrey could get to him and start preparing him to move to the hospital wing. He did remember standing with Hermione, his arm around her shoulders as she cried waiting for the medi-witch to help Draco. It was a potion whose identity was known only by the two wizards who'd been incapacitated by it, therefore Madam Pomfrey gave strict instructions not to use any magic until she's been able to assess the injuries herself.

The two Gryffindor students had been led up to the hospital wing and, when the two Slytherins were stable, given a thorough check up, just in case there were any residual side effects from the mysterious potion. When they'd been deemed perfectly fine, they each went to their respective chairs besides the person they cared about who had just been injured. Harry watched as Hermione held Draco's hand, and any leftover animosity the young wizard had towards the Slytherin disappeared. So what if Draco knew about Voldemort's soul living inside of him? Harry wasn't even sure the other teen did know, and regardless, he was here in the hospital wing because he was most likely helping Snape on the potion for him.

Harry's hypothesis was confirmed when Draco woke up around a quarter past nine and was able to relay what had happened in Snape's laboratory. Unfortunately, outside of a "potion for the Order" - something that even McGonagall didn't know any extra details about - the Slytherin could only provide a partial list of ingredients that had been used, but it was enough for the medi-witch to start her proper healing. Despite the knowledge of what had been used in the potion, with Madam Pomfrey huffing something about scales that meant nothing to Harry, Snape remained unconscious.

Hermione stayed by the Draco's bedside until five minutes before curfew when Madam Pomfrey told her it was time for her to go back to the Gryffindor tower. She gave Harry a saddened look and then left for the night, leaving Harry in the quiet room, illuminated by the soft, flickering glow of the lanterns. No one told him to go back to dungeons; they knew he wouldn't leave anyways. Instead, Professor McGonagall handed him a pair of hospital issued pyjamas he changed into to try and be more comfortable for however long he would be staying, and Madam Pomfrey still insisted he continue on his tube feeding while he tried to sleep. Harry barely registered any of it going on around him.

In the next several hours he'd spent sitting at Snape's bedside - tossing and turning in the uncomfortable chair no matter how many different ways Professor McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey transfigured it - he thought hard about his magic. If Snape and Draco had been working on the potion to confirm the block, had something gone wrong? Or did it go right? Since the day he found out about the block, and then the Horcrux, he'd gone back and forth on what to do with his magic, but he'd now made his decision. If the potion could confirm the presence of the block, he would take the risk to protect it. If it couldn't confirm the block or somehow Snape had been wrong about it - and being a Horcrux - in the first place, then he would continue on the current path, trying to preserve as much of his organized magic as he could in hopes that he had enough when all of this was over. If he were honest, he thought it was kind of a moot point if they couldn't safely remove the soul piece, but Snape would expect an answer and if Harry had any chance of mentally making it through the upcoming months, he couldn't think too much about it.

"This is a… reversal of… our normal… roles."

Harry's attention was brought out of his inward thoughts over to the man laying in the hospital wing bed across from his chair. The young wizard breathed a sigh of relief to see Snape finally awake, and lucid enough to make a sarcastic observation like that one.

"What time is it?" Snape asked. His glassy, black eyes scanned the room around him.

Harry gave a weak smile, he knew exactly how disorienting it was to wake up in the hospital wing, and that was always the first question he had.

"My best guess is about two o'clock in the morning."

"What happened?" The professor asked next, pushing himself up onto his elbows. That was always Harry's second question too.

"Something exploded in your laboratory."

"Draco-"

"He's alright," the Gryffindor reassured Snape, "he's staying overnight here, but it's more as a precaution because no one could identify the potion since you were unconscious, and they didn't want any unexpected side effects popping up."

"There shouldn't be any," Snape replied. "However it never hurts to be extra cautious."

An awkward silence enveloped the pair of wizards and Harry worried his bottom lip, unsure if he should ask the question burning inside of him.

"What was that potion?" He asked, then shook his head deciding he needed to be more forward about what he was desperate to know. "Was it to confirm the block?"

His heart was racing in the short - but seemed to take forever - moments before Snape answered.

"Yes," the professor confirmed with a grimace, "that's what the potion was for."

"And what did you find?" The young wizard tentatively responded, while knotting his fingers together in his lap, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

Another thick silence fell over them and Harry was certain Snape could hear his heart pounding against his chest.

"It was positive," Snape finally said, "there is definitely a block within your core. We can discuss how to handle your magic once you've had time to process it."

The Gryffindor didn't know if he wanted to jump for joy over the idea that there was now a better chance than not that he would end up with _some kind_ of magic after chemotherapy, even if it was raw and untrained, or he wanted to sink down into the floor because now he knew for sure that he had a piece of Voldemort's soul sitting next to his own. Instead of either, he let out the shaky breath he'd been holding and swallowed back the bile that had started to rise in the back of his throat.

"I want to try to protect the block and the magic underneath," he confidently said.

"Harry," Snape sat all the way up even though Harry could tell it pained the man to do so, "This is a big decision, you don't have to decide tonig-"

"It's what I want," Harry said again, making eye contact to show that his decision was final.

Harry didn't want to talk about how nervous it made him inside or how much more unknown it made his future. The young wizard wanted to tell the man in front of him that he knew about being a Horcrux - that he knew the explanation he'd been given about the block was a lie - but he couldn't get the words to form on his lips and tongue. It would forever change the dynamic between them, and Harry wasn't ready for that. Maybe, he tried to rationalize to himself, Snape already had a plan in place to remove the evil soul and Harry simply had to do the one thing he had always struggled with in the past - let an adult take over and trust that person would do what was best for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Occlumency 201
> 
> This officially ends the Horcrux/Magic arc for now (yay!). You'll also start to see the timeline speed up a bit as we work our way towards the end and Harry's more adjusted to the things going on in his life, so if you haven't been paying attention to the dates you'll want to start going forward.


	52. Occlumency 201

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone taking the time to read and review!
> 
> Disclaimer: There's a scene in here that is mostly from the Deathly Hallows. I don't want to give any spoilers, but you'll know it when you read it.

~~~~HP~~~~

**_Saturday, 14 December, 1996_ **

If someone had told Harry how quickly the three weeks would go by with the feeding tube in place, he would have bet most of his vault against them, and he would have lost. Things had been going so well, in fact, that he even started eating his meals back in the Great Hall last week, at least most of the days. Between his extra energy, the thoughts of getting to use his magic again in phase three next month, and planning for his first real Christmas Holiday, the days flew by and it was suddenly the week before the end of term and he would most likely be getting the tube removed in only three days.

Today though, he was forced to miss the second Quidditch match of the season - Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff - because of chemotherapy. That in itself wasn't a problem, but as he laid on the sofa in his pyjamas, the last thing he expected was Draco Malfoy to come through the floo after Madam Pomfrey.

"What's he doing here again?" Harry asked in a more confrontational manner than he anticipated. While he'd gotten used to Draco hanging around, it didn't necessarily mean he wanted the Slytherin helping with his chemotherapy. And yet, when Madam Pomfrey asked last time if he'd be alright with Draco "shadowing" her, he clearly hadn't thought that meant helping draw his blood from his port.

"Given that we have the opportunity," Madam Pomfrey explained, "I thought it'd be good for Mr. Malfoy to see the muggle side of healing. If you're uncomfortable, I can have him wait in the hospital wing."

Harry's emerald eyes met Draco's grey ones, and the Gryffindor had a flashback to the potion explosion. While Draco hadn't been seriously injured, he still felt guilty about him being placed in that situation to begin with.

"It's alright," Harry answered and leaned back on the sofa, so the medi-witch could go through the steps to flush out the port and collect his blood to test.

The Gryffindor was hardly embarrassed anymore over his treatments and side effects, and if he really thought about it, he didn't really care that Draco was helping out. So then why did he feel so conflicted with it inside? The thought of Draco Malfoy as a healer was one thing, but witnessing it - especially using muggle methods - was beyond strange. Harry listened to Madam Pomfrey explain not only the procedure for each step, but also the rationale behind it, all the while Draco was paying close attention to what he was doing and even taking notes in the small book of parchment he had. Harry thought back to those early blood draws before the port was in place and he shivered imagining the likes of Draco Malfoy trying to use a syringe to collect blood from his veins.

"Did that hurt?" The blonde teen uncharacteristically asked in response to Harry's sudden movement.

"Oh. No, no it didn't," he reassured Draco. "I was just thinking of something."

Draco turned back to finish focusing on collecting his blood, and stood proudly when he'd accomplished it, handing the phials back to the medi-witch to take to Dr. Swanson. As always, before leaving, Madam Pomfrey set up his IV of the antiemetic so that it could drip while he waited for his tests, leaving Draco in his sitting room.

"You didn't want to go to the game today?" Harry asked to fill the painful silence between them.

"Actually, I'll be working at it with Madam Pomfrey instead," the Slytherin replied, sitting down on the sofa next to Harry. He seemed nervous over something, and Harry had the suspicion it wasn't helping to heal his fellow classmates. "Guess I'll get a better idea of what happens on the other side of the injuries for once."

The Gryffindor has had his fair share of Quidditch injuries over the years, and while he wouldn't necessarily turn down anyone who was there to help, all he could think about was when Lockhart attempted to fix his broken arm. That was one injury he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy.

"As long as you don't do anything like Lockhart did to my arm," Harry said with a smirk, "you'll be just fine."

"It's amazing you can actually laugh at that now," Draco huffed more upset about it than Harry was. "My mother had to use Skele-Grow on me once. It was an absolutely dreadful experience, and I was only growing a toe back."

"Oh!" Harry sarcastically called out, "So that's why you walk all crooked."

"I do not," The Malfoy heir responded indignantly. He then motioned to Harry's IV and asked, "How long does this take anyway?"

"Less than an hour," Harry answered with a frown. He'd honestly gotten so used to this all, he hardly noticed most of it anymore. "Might as well get comfortable if you're going to be here to set up the chemotherapy."

"I think that's the plan." Draco was peering around the room, looking everywhere except at Harry. He looked guiltily over something. "What do you usually do while you wait? During the chemotherapy?"

Harry was curious where the other teen was taking this. While he didn't believe the newest spy was working against him anymore, he was still wary of his motives in the end.

"Depends," Harry shrugged, "for a short treatment like today, I'll probably try to do some studying for exams next week, but when I used to have the longer ones I would get sick pretty early on in the process and I couldn't focus on school work or reading. Those times, I'd try playing games or sketch, just about anything to keep my mind off of it."

He didn't know why the boy sitting next to him wanted to know this stuff, and before he could even ask him, Draco showed what had been weighing on his mind.

"You've been friends with Hermione for a while now," Draco eventually said in a deep questioning sort of way.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, "Yeah, you could say that. Six years is a long time to know someone."

"So then… do you have any idea what I should get her for Christmas?"

He'd said it so quietly, Harry almost didn't hear him, but once he comprehended, Harry practically choked on his own saliva. It was lucky he wasn't drinking or eating anything at the time, otherwise he was sure he would have choked. So all of this had seriously been because he didn't know what to get his girlfriend for Christmas?

He turned his head inquisitively at the Slytherin as if he was seeing the teen in a new light for the first time. Something about his face must have made Draco feel vulnerable because his face started to flush.

"I don't want to get her a book," Draco continued, filling in the silence from Harry's non-existent answer, "I'm guessing everyone gets her that."

"She likes books," Harry justified having gotten his friend a book this year, "this is the person who gave both Ron and me homework planners. Just think about that."

"For you two?" The blonde's eyebrows were raised as he looked Harry over, "that's a perfectly acceptable gift."

As much as it pained him to admit it, Hermione and Draco really were perfect for each other… if one didn't look at the whole family blood supremacy issue too closely.

"I really can't help you, Draco," Harry finally told the other boy. "I've never had a girlfriend, so I don't even know where to start."

"Is jewelry too forward?"

Apparently, Draco wasn't done with the topic, regardless of how uncomfortable it made Harry.

"Erm," Harry stalled, "maybe? I guess it depends on what kind."

"What about a necklace?" He asked, but then shook his head, "No, you guys always end up in some kind of trouble every year and with my luck the thing would strangle her."

Now Harry couldn't stop himself from laughing at the pure ridiculousness of this conversation. If this was what having a girlfriend would do to his mind, he didn't want one. He was having a hard enough time keeping his own thoughts straight without adding his hormones messing with it even further.

"Maybe a bracelet is a better idea," he suggested, completely uninterested.

To that, the Slytherin's eyes lit up as he was going through in his mind what to get for his new girlfriend's first Christmas present.

_Guess I know more about this stuff than I thought._

Thankfully, Harry was saved from hearing anymore about it because Madam Pomfrey and Dr. Swanson came through the floo to start his chemotherapy. Harry then spent the rest of the day nursing the side effects from his medication, while Draco went to his first Quidditch match shadowing alongside the medi-witch.

* * *

Having had chemotherapy yesterday - causing him to miss Ravenclaw defeat Hufflepuff in the Quidditch match - meant just like all the other students, Harry was using the last day before the start of exams to get as much studying done as possible. Deciding to work through the last remaining nausea, he was studying in the library with Ron, Lavender, Hermione, and Draco. They'd been here since after breakfast as part of Hermione's thorough study schedule, stopping only to go lunch, and then immediately returning to their copious notes; mostly thanks to Hermione and Draco.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, gladly drawing everyone's attention away from studying, "have you decided who you're taking to Slughorn's party?"

"That's right," Ron gave a small laugh, as if he could have forgotten about it, "you have your _elite party_ coming up."

One of the other reasons Harry had determined the last three weeks had seemed easier, was that some time within them Ron and Hermione managed to come to a truce about their respective choice of partners. Harry got the impression Ron had just been jealous of the whole thing, however as with the Yule Ball, he had no one to blame but himself. Now though, everyone - and their hormones - had calmed down enough to focus on the task in front of them: their upcoming exams and, for Harry, finding someone to ask to Slughorn's party.

He tried to get out of it, that was his first idea. Without chemotherapy that day or the day before, he really couldn't find a solid reason not to go besides the simple fact that he didn't want to, and in the end Severus told him to think like a Slytherin; that being part of the _Slug Club_ could potentially open doors for him. Harry doubted that and resisted the urge to tell his mentor that if being the Boy-Who-Lived didn't open the doors, Slughorn probably wouldn't either. Now the party was Friday night, giving him a whole five days to find someone to ask.

"I was thinking of going alone," Harry lied. There was no way he was going to go alone and be surrounded by a bunch of teenage couples.

"You can't go alone, you'll look pathetic," Draco said, as if just the thought of the idea insulted him. "Besides, it's bad etiquette to attend these types of affairs by yourself."

Harry ignored the Slytherin, who he knew would be there as Hermione's date; likely telling him every chance he got, everything Harry was doing wrong.

"What about Ginny?" He asked Ron. "She's in this club, who's she going with?"

"No idea," Ron said, giving his head a slow shake. "She's got a date though, just refuses to tell me who it is. I get the feeling she doesn't trust me not to have some words with him beforehand."

Harry could understand that. Ginny was practically his younger sister too, and the thought of her dating anyone didn't feel right to him. Which still left him having no idea who to ask.

"Maybe I just won't go," Harry said out loud while mindlessly going through his notes, "I'm sure if I tell Severus I'm not feeling well, he won't think twice about making me go."

"If you tell Severus you're sick," Draco started, "you won't be doing anything until next year."

He had a point, even if Harry hated to admit it. It really wasn't fair to put Snape through that worry when the man had a lot going on already.

With the potion completed last month, and Snape had recovered from the explosion - the professor never actually told anyone what exactly was in the concoction - things between them had settled down a lot. It was like a giant unknown was lifted from between the two of them, now that they could speak freely about Harry's magic. Though the young wizard still hadn't told Snape about his knowledge of the soul piece, it still allowed him to make the decision to preserve Harry's "second core", and that alone released an anxiety Harry had been constantly carrying around with him. Overall, these last three weeks had been some of the best for the young wizard and he was dreading to see them end.

"I'll find someone to ask," he finally conceded, "I still have, what… three or four days?"

The whole group started to laugh and Harry wasn't exactly sure why, but blamed it on being completely stir crazy after spending so much time in the library studying.

"I can't believe that term is almost over," Lavender pouted and Harry felt his stomach roiling. She'd been complaining about leaving _Won-Won_ since Mrs. Weasley very animatedly told the other Gryffindor wizard he could not go with her to France. "How can we not be spending our first Christmas together?"

"We won't be either," Draco spoke up. Harry didn't miss the Slytherin placing his right hand on top of Hermione's left.

"But you guys at least have that Christmas party," Lavender explained, "it'll give you some kind of celebratory event before you exchange your gifts."

This time, Harry didn't hold back the eye roll when the teenage girl sang the last three words in a high pitched tune. When he looked across the table, Draco made eye contact and both boys smirked, remembering the conversation they'd had only yesterday about this very subject. To Harry though it served as an awful reminder of how far behind he was in preparing for the holidays. While he'd managed to get all his friends', the Weasley's, and Lupin's gifts ready and safely stored in his bedroom wardrobe, he was completely clueless what to get for Snape. This was the person who took him in and had been constantly watching over him. No matter what anyone from the outside thought, it was what a parent did and Harry had never purchased a gift for his parent before.

 _First a date for Slughorn's party and then a gift for Severus_ , Harry committed to himself for this week. Since it was the last week of term, he didn't have any tutoring and didn't need to do the practical tests, so he had plenty of time to dedicate to those two endeavors.

"I'm out, guys," Harry finally said about an hour before dinner, as he forcefully closed his books and started packing them away. "I can't retain any more information on Human Transfiguration, dark creatures, or poisonous plants."

"Thank Merlin!" Ron excitedly agreed "I didn't want to be the first to say it. Are you coming to the Great Hall for dinner?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, a small smile on his face, "I think I will."

~~~~SS~~~~

"Can I ask you a question, Severus?" Harry asked him before bed Monday night.

Severus was setting up Harry's potentially last overnight nutrients. The Gryffindor had done an excellent job these last three weeks staying on top of his diet, on top of the overnight nutrients and while he was still far too thin compared to a healthy sixteen year old boy, Severus could tell there had been an improvement. Where it was most evident though, was Harry's attitude. After he'd recovered from the explosion, things with Harry had settled dramatically and the Gryffindor had even started eating in the Great Hall again. Things fell into place and they were living in more of a routine that was broken up every ten days with chemotherapy and even those had been primarily uneventful.

"If it's about your written exam this morning, you need to wait as everyone else for your scores."

"No," the young wizard gave a small wince, signaling to Severus that the nutrients had started. Every single night, Harry had some kind of reaction when they started, "it's kind of personal."

"You can ask," Severus responded, taking a seat at the desk now that he was done setting up Harry for the night, "though, I cannot guarantee I'll answer."

Harry was playing with the hem of his shirt nervously, "Everyone says I need someone to go with me to Slughorn's party. "

Severus tried his hardest not to react, but he doubted he succeeded in it. He was brought back to the memory of Harry asking him about the Yule Ball. How was it possible that there could be similarities such as this between two worlds that could never have coexisted together?

"I happen to disagree," he answered, of course he never attended the _Slug Club_ parties after his and Lily's falling out, so he might not have been the best person to ask. "If you want to go alone, then no one else's opinion should prohibit that."

"Well, I don't _want_ to go alone," Harry started, his face flushing a bit. "I just don't know who I'd want to go with."

Taking another deep breath, the professor decided to go with the same advice he'd given Harry in his old reality.

"Harry," he started, "ask someone who you'd have a good time with. Not someone you have to impress, just somebody who, at the end of the night, you could say you had fun. You deserve to have a carefree night."

The teen in front of him nodded his head several times, "I'm probably overthinking it."

"You most definitely are."

"Who did you go with?" Harry asked before settling back in his bed. "Being one of the youngest Potion's Masters in the UK, I imagine you were in the _Slug Club."_

"The youngest," Severus corrected. "And yes, I was in the club, however I only attended one Christmas Party in my fifth year."

"And who did you go with?"

Severus paused as he thought about how to answer that very pointed question. There was no other way to interpret what was asked.

"Technically I went alone," he answered carefully, "however-"

"So I can go alone!" Harry interrupted, "Draco said it's bad form."

The professor shook his head. He never asked what triggered Harry's change of pronoun when referring to the Malfoy heir, but he had noticed it was around the time of the potion accident. It was also around the time Draco and Hermione's relationship became what the students called "official", a move that Severus disagreed with and was keeping a keen eye on given Draco's role with the Dark Lord.

"First, I didn't care much for 'good form' at fifteen," he answered, "and second Lily and I spent most of the night together trying to avoid the people who think like Draco."

"My mum was in the _Slug Club?_ But she was a muggleborn," Harry asked with genuine curiosity.

"Slughorn may have been the Head of Slytherin, but he admitted students he saw potential in regardless of their blood status," Severus explained, "and your mother was a very talented witch. Even Slughorn could see that she would do great things."

The air in the room changed drastically, not unlike if a dementor had entered his quarters and found its way to the Gryffindor's bedroom. Harry had gone from light and open to dark and closed in a second, thinking of what his mother could have accomplished had she not sacrificed herself to save him.

"She didn't have to die," Harry looked down at his hands, too uncomfortable to make eye contact. "She could have stepped aside like he told her too and let me die."

Severus's throat felt like it was closing up. He had known this when he learned about what Harry heard when a dementor got near him, but this was getting too close to a conversation he wasn't ready to have with the young wizard. Now that he'd had the experience of being a father, he can't believe he thought Lily would stand aside and watch her child get killed. Now if presented in the same situation, Severus wouldn't think twice about standing between Harry and the killing curse.

"I did know that, Harry," he said, moving to sit at the foot of Harry's bed. "Your mother wouldn't have been able to truly live her life knowing that she didn't do everything in her power to save her child."

"It's unfair," the Gryffindor mumbled. Harry rarely fell into the despair of the injustice of his life, but when he did there was simply too much that could weigh him down.

"Yes, unfortunately it is," the professor placed his hand on Harry's knee that was covered by a blue bedspread tonight, as Harry's favorite green one had been taken to be cleaned after Saturday's chemotherapy. Severus made a mental note to inquire about it. "Try to get some rest, Harry. Dr. Swanson will be here before our Occlumency lesson tomorrow evening."

"You're going to try an attack, right?" Harry asked, nervously.

"We will be moving forward in your training, but I promise you, it will not feel like an attack."

Harry simply nodded again, though Severus knew by now that the Gryffindor didn't believe him. Harry was likely thinking of how his counterpart ripped through his mind without a single care for what that would feel like for the recipient or even the fact that it wasn't how to effectively teach the skill to begin with. He'd handle readjusting Harry's expectations tomorrow and had high hopes they would come out ahead this time.

* * *

"It's been nearly three weeks since your confirmation, Severus," the headmaster lectured from behind his desk.

The agitated defense professor had been called to Albus's office as he was leaving from his last period before heading back to his quarters to meet Dr. Swanson to review Harry's progress and hopefully allow the removal of his feeding tube. Now, he would likely be late to that appointment. For a split second, he considered simply walking out and telling Albus they'd need to discuss this later, however he suspected that would not go over very well for him and since he required the protection of Hogwarts at the present moment he sat across from the elderly wizard listening to his inquiry.

"Exactly," he responded cryptically, "it's been _only_ three weeks, and Harry still has three years left of chemotherapy, almost to the day if my calculations are correct. What good does spending my time researching how to release the soul now when you very well know Harry has chosen to protect it?"

"Harry does not understand the implications of that decision," Albus answered and to his credit he did seem a little upset at the idea of Harry needing to die unless someone - most likely Severus - found an alternative solution to removing the soul from within Harry without killing him.

"He does not _need_ to understand the implications beyond how they relate to his own situation," the younger professor spat back. "Right now all he needs to know is that something is blocking his magic and that block can provide him the chance to walk away in the magical world. Beyond that, I don't give a damn about the prophesy or his supposed role in it. You'll need to find yourself another martyr."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, my boy," the headmaster leaned over his desk, his blue eyes searching into Severus's black ones. "We both have the same goals, to do what's best for Harry and defeat Lord Voldemort."

"Yes, however I believe our priority of those goals couldn't be further apart," at first, that was as close as Severus was comfortable getting to telling his employer exactly how he felt, yet after a pause to consider it further, he added, "I will do anything in my power to protect Harry, even if it means leaving the Hogwarts boundaries. Do not test me, Albus."

That certainly caught the elderly wizard's attention, and he stood to walk around his desk. Albus held his hands behind his back as he paced away from his defense professor, considering the passive threat he'd just been given. Obviously, he hadn't expected it to come down to this, nonetheless Severus wouldn't back down.

"You have no authority to remove Harry from school grounds," Albus spoke over his shoulder, not giving the dark-haired professor the courtesy of eye contact. "Furthermore, it's in his best interest to stay within the wards."

If Albus thought he was fooling anyone with that last point, Severus wasn't going to allow it. He slammed his fist on the large, solid wood desk so hard the trinkets rattled across it and the portraits of the past headmasters startled.

"Who do you think you're talking to?!" Severus stood to face the man who was the closest person he'd ever had to a father. At that moment, the younger wizard didn't care, nor did he care about whatever respect Albus thought he deserved. "We both know what went on in that house you left him in! Was _that_ in his best interest as well?! You seem to forget that where I'm from, Harry was perfectly safe in my care, in my home, and the Dark Lord did not come back." The last four words were said with so much anger, his normally pale face was bright red.

"If you ask me," Severus continued, "I'd say you screwed over this world by leaving him where 'he was protected'. What he needed was a home where he could be respected and where he felt he had someone whom he could depend on and trust. Only then did we successfully keep Voldemort from returning!"

If it weren't for the murmuring of the portraits around them, the air around them would have been so silent, Severus was sure his heart beating on the underside of his chest would have sounded like a drum. The two wizards were standing across the room from one another, neither willing to concede to the other's point of view.

"You're forgetting, Severus," Albus eventually broke the silence with these words, his voice layered in grief, "Harry did not survive in your other reality."

It was like a knife going straight through his heart. He never needed to be reminded of that fact, and yet somehow having the words spoken out loud to him was jarring.

"If you hadn't shown up here," Albus continued, walking slowly towards the professor, "Harry likely would not have started his treatments in time, to be as successful as they've been, due to his negligent relatives. And when he died, the soul particle would have been released allowing Voldemort to perish from the very same disease."

If Albus thought he'd never gone through that scenario, he was completely wrong. Severus thought about it all of the time; he didn't need the reminder of the uphill battle they were facing.

"I will find a way to rid him of that soul fragment, Albus," he finally said with his jaw clenched tight. "But when I do, I will not remove it until he has finished chemotherapy. If you don't like that, then you can have my resignation."

It was a threat that he hoped the headmaster would challenge him on. They both knew that it wasn't his exceptional teaching that kept him on staff year after year. Until this summer, it was his acceptance to walk back into the line of danger as a spy for the Order, and now it was Harry. If he left, Albus knew the young Gryffindor wouldn't think twice to voluntarily go with. The headmaster may have been right that Severus had no legal rights to remove Harry, nevertheless the former spy knew enough to hide completely undetected until Harry was seventeen. And if they were discovered before then, he had no doubt that Minerva - as Harry's guardian - would stand by his side.

"We're done here," the defense professor said. He pushed his way past his employer and through the door, not at all looking back, even when he heard Albus say just as the door behind him was closing, "the arrangements have been made for next week"; he had somewhere more important to be.

The walk down back to the dungeons helped Severus clear his mind just enough to handle whatever was waiting for him on the other side of the door. There was no way Madam Pomfrey and Dr. Swanson weren't there yet, so it was more if they'd started the evaluation of Harry's weight and nutrition and what that outcome was. Upon opening his door and making his short way to the sitting room, he had his answer almost immediately.

"Look, Severus," Harry called out, "I'm tube free!"

Finally something was going their way, and this would definitely be a good start to the next step of their Occlumency lesson tonight.

* * *

"This is going to be a little different than our normal lessons," Severus told Harry while they were sitting on the floor again, drinking the Valerian tea to help Harry relax. The Gryffindor hadn't needed the tea and ambiance during their previous lessons, but the professor wanted to be sure their first Legilimency attempt was as different from last year as possible and this was the best way to do that.

He'd had the idea of helping Harry build and test his canopy walls before attempting the attack, so after depositing the memories Harry absolutely did not want to relive, they were sitting across from each other, cross legged with their knees touching.

"How has your practice in clearing your mind gone recently?"

Harry was surprisingly very relaxed - especially considering he knew what was coming - which was a great testament to how the young Gryffindor was doing with not only Occlumency, but also to the adjustments in his life, in general.

"Now I can pretty much pull up the forest at any time," Harry started, sipping his tea at odd intervals. "I've been working on putting as much distance between myself flying and the top of the forest canopy, and trying to make the canopy as strong as I can. Most of the time it works, but every so often there's a hole in the top, and I just have to focus a little harder to close it."

Harry was really making impeccable progress. The fact that he could identify the holes in his defense was the first step in ultimately protecting what he'll be hiding underneath it. Based on what he'd been hearing, this would be an extremely easy lesson and then they could move onto pushing out an attack.

"As I mentioned," the professor continued, "I'd like to take a completely different approach to start, and instead of me strictly testing you, I'm going to show you how to place your emotions and memories under your canopy."

Harry didn't try to hide his confusion, "How do you do that?"

"To start, you should not defend yourself when I enter your mind," Severus said carefully, not wanting to scare the young wizard. "This time, you'll accept the invasion instead of attempting to push me out."

"You do know that goes against every single thing that you ever told me last year," Harry questioned, with a layer of frustration in his voice.

"I am aware of that," he answered, hoping to convey to Harry how much he detested how his counterpart handled their Occlumency. There was no excuse for what he'd seen in those memories. "And we can both agree that last year did not work. So let's try it this way."

Harry took a deep breath, "Ok, what do I do?"

With the leap of trust Harry had just given, Severus could not hold back his smile. Of everything they've overcome since Severus knocked on his door back in July, this was by far the biggest sentiment.

"You don't have to do anything," the professor said, placing his hands on Harry's knees directly in front of him. "Simply close your eyes and relax when you feel the presence of my mind against yours. Get your canopy in place and nod when you are ready. I will not hurt you."

It took almost five minutes, but once Harry nodded, Severus silently cast _Legilimens_ and felt himself slowly enter Harry's mind.

He could see the bright blue sky all around him and a small speckle of deep green below. It seemed that when Harry said he was putting distance between himself and his canopy, he hadn't exaggerated at all. This was good, the young wizard would definitely notice if someone were attempting to enter his canopy if they started at this distance, and it would give him plenty of time to attack.

As Severus lowered himself closer to the forest, he could not find Harry's presence anywhere. Making the decision to take a detour to find Harry - because showing him how this worked would only be beneficial with the young wizard actually there to see it - Severus went off laterally in search of him. The former spy was impressed that it took longer than expected, though it was hard to tell time in the state they were in, but all of this pointed to Harry being well on his way to mastering Occlumency and at a much faster pace than Harry learned even in his old reality.

That should have been a clue that something was wrong. It was most likely a combination of Severus's false sense of security with Harry's progress, and his already distracted mind from the argument with Albus earlier that evening, that the professor did not see the black clouds coming up behind him, or when the attack hit.

Severus was brought into a memory, but it was his memory rather than one of Harry's, which is what he would have expected being within the Gryffindor's mind. He tried to pull up his own Occlumency shields to block out the presence, except no matter how hard he tried, they would not lift. Instantly, he recognized the scene playing out in front of him from the first time he met Lily and he paused at the sight of the girl who would later become an integral part of who he was on so many different levels. This was the day that started the rest of his life:

_"It's obvious, isn't it?" Young Severus had jumped out from behind the bushes. A young Petunia shrieked and ran backward toward the swings, but Lily, though clearly startled, remained where she was. A dull flush of color mounted the sallow cheeks of 11-year old Severus as he looked at Lily._

_"What's obvious?" asked Lily._

_Memory Severus had an air of nervous excitement. With a glance at the distant Petunia, now hovering beside the swings, he lowered his voice and said, "I know what you are."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"You're...you're a witch," whispered memory-Severus._

The scene changed quickly to one from his fourth year:

_Memory Severus was sitting next to Lily out in the courtyard, a thick blanket of snow on the ground, they were both innocently snuggled next to one another for warmth wearing their gloves and scarves of green and red, respectively._

_"How can you say no, Sev?" Lily asked, tugging on his green Slytherin scarf. "I thought you weren't going home for Christmas anyway?"_

_"I'm not," he said seriously, it was the first year he had planned not to go home for the Christmas holiday since Lily would be away skiing with her family this year._

_"Then why not come with us? Mum said you are more than welcome to," Lily said excitedly as if she already knew she'd won the argument. "We're leaving straight from the train station, so you don't even have to see your dad."_

_Fourteen year old Severus scowled at the mention of his father. The father and son had a rough summer, by the end of which Severus made certain he was never home whenever his father was, and when he had come back to school he vowed not to go home on any of the breaks this year. The less he could see of Tobias Snape the better._

_"Don't you think my mum should know that I'm off skiing? And if I tell her I want to go with your family, she'll guilt me into coming home instead." He explained logically, "I can't even ski, what if I kill myself doing it?"_

_Lily giggled, which made Severus - both in the memory and outside of it - smile. "Oh, Sev," she patted his arm, "if you don't like it, there's plenty of other things we can do there besides ski."_

Severus watched the memory fade and a deep sense of grief surrounded him. He had indeed gone skiing - and actually enjoyed the sport - with the Evans' family that year and he had the best Christmas of his life until Harry was adopted.

Not surprising, another memory started; this one also Christmas - because memories are linked together by subject - during Harry's fifth year.

_Memory Severus was walking into the sitting room of their home in Spinner's End where Harry was decorating their Christmas tree. He was carrying a tray with two cups of hot chocolate and some Christmas biscuits Mrs. Weasley had just sent._

_"Thanks, Dad," Harry said, grabbing one of the cups and sitting on the sofa._

_"It's looking good," the professor said, picking up where Harry left off giving the 15-year old a break._

_Harry laughed, "It looks the same as it does every year."_

_"That's only because you're not nearly as observant as I am," he said tossing an ornament back into the box, then sitting next to his son with his own cup of hot chocolate. "It's statistically impossible to put every ornament in the same exact spot every year."_

_Harry rolled his eyes, "You know what I meant."_

_Severus reached over and started messing up Harry's already messy black hair, "Of course I knew what you meant."_

Again, a blanket of grief wrapped itself around Severus's shoulders. That had been their last Christmas before the diagnosis. He wondered briefly if Harry could see these; they were still inside his mind, correct?

The memory changed one last time and as expected it had to do with Harry at Christmas time again. Severus tried vigorously to expel himself from the memory, but whomever was attacking him was holding strongly onto this time Harry was 11 and Severus could feel his anxiety rise as the memory started.

_He had been patrolling the hallways that night. Each corridor was brightly decorated with wreaths and candles, souring Severus's already dour mood. It had been an exceedingly rough term so far, having to deal with both Quirrell and Potter. While he knew having the Potter spawn as an almost daily reminder of both the worst years of his life and the life he could have been living, was going to be difficult, it was getting to him more than he had ever expected._

The real-Severus remembered this day; would never forget it for however long he managed to live. This was another infamous crossroad that forever changed his life, ripping away and separating the two realities he had known.

_The Potion's professor was just about to finish his nightly patrol when he saw Harry slip out from seemingly nowhere. The real-Severus now knew it was James' invisibility cloak Albus had given Harry only a couple of days earlier for Christmas. At the time though, he was desperate to pin anything he could on the Golden Boy-Who-Lived._

_"And what brings the Gryffindor prince out of his tower at this time of night?" Memory-Severus asked the young Harry, making it clear that regardless of his answer he would at least be getting detention for wandering the hallways at night; just like his father had._

_"Why do you think it's any of your business..." Harry defiantly replied, leaving the lack of "sir" or "professor" hanging disrespectfully between them._

The real Severus could feel the anger rise within his memory-self as he waited to see how this moment would play out. Which reality was he watching? How would this Severus react?

_"Don't you dare talk back to me like that, you insolent child," memory-Severus bellowed._

Standing as a spectator, Severus saw it. The look in his memory-self's eyes and he knew what was going to happen; he wasn't going to walk away as he had in this reality. Again, he felt his anger rise, but this time not against the child, but himself. Something good would eventually come out of this moment; like a Phoenix, they would rise from the ashes.

_It was like watching a horrific accident, he didn't want to see it but he could not turn away. The 31-year old memory-Severus lifted his arm, losing control of his anger, not for the first time in his life, but definitely the worst. His hand came down towards the small 11-year old, with every intention of hitting him. He came, so close; too close before pulling away at the very last second._

_For all the times he'd played this moment back to himself throughout the years, he always saw that horrible look of acceptance within Harry's eyes when he thought he knew what was coming. As if he was not at all surprised that an adult with authority over him would respond to him in violence. This time, viewing the memory from a different point of view, he could see his younger-self's eyes, when he realized he saw himself in the young boy and knew exactly what that implied. Not only had this boy been hit before, but he was so used to it, he had come to accept it._

Finally, as if whatever was driving these memories had found what it was looking for, Severus was released from the hold and opened his eyes to find himself back in his sitting room. He carefully sat up and his stomach fell to the floor when he noticed Harry sitting up furiously staring back at him. His emerald eyes were shifting back and forth as if contemplating the meaning behind all that he had just seen.

"You almost hit me."

Like everything else between them, it wasn't a question. He didn't have to question it, the memory was clear as day.

"Almost," Severus said, once his brain caught up to the situation in front of him, "is the key word. I did not then, nor have I ever hit you."

"But you wanted to," Harry said sadly with a look of betrayal across his face, "I could feel it."

"Yes," the professor quietly admitted, "at first I did, but I'm thankful every single day that I did not."

Time practically stood still as he watched the boy he cared about more than anything in this world digest the information he'd been given. Severus had never been a religious man, but he prayed to whoever would listen that Harry would try to remember the other memories he'd seen as well; of his mother and a small snippet of the life they had managed to build even after the event that caused his paradigm shift.

But no; as with everything else they'd faced so far, nothing could ever come easy and in the span of a couple minutes, the trust they'd built was instantly shattered yet again. Harry stood up on shaky legs and Severus mirrored the Gryffindor wanting more than anything to reach out to the teen.

"Get away from me," Harry whispered, lowering his eyebrows and in one swift and smooth action, ran to his bedroom slamming the door behind him.

Severus's heart broke; it was like the day before the Privet Drive attack all over again, or when Harry had the vision from Draco's initiation. He left the furniture as it was, along the edges of the room as he walked in a daze to his bedroom. As he walked past Harry's bedroom door, he resisted the urge to enter it and check on the teen, but he knew that if they had any chance of walking away from this together, he needed to give the child some space to process what he had learned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Disappointment
> 
> A/N: I want to call out Harry's change of pronoun for Draco from Malfoy which you see in both his spoken words and narrative thought as his view of him has changed overtime. In case anyone had noticed, Harry's narrative pronoun for Snape did not change when he started calling him Severus and that is only so that way the readers (and me!) can keep track of which POV the writing is in. Thought I should point this out because it's a detail I would question as a reader


	53. Disappointment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to french_charlotte for the help on the Christmas Party scene, and of course to everyone who has reviewed!
> 
> Warning: Under-aged drinking is involved in this chapter.

~~~~HP~~~~

_What the hell was all of that?!_

Harry flung himself onto his bed the moment he was back in his bedroom, not caring about the slamming door behind him. He could feel the panic rising within his chest as he struggled for oxygen, making it hard to think clearly. Desperately, he tried to slow his breathing, recognizing, after the horrible conversation with Dr. Swanson, that he was having a panic attack. They had become too common for him, especially since Sirius's death and his cancer diagnosis.

_And why am I thinking of Sirius now?!_

It was such a random thought, he could only assume it was because his brain was trying to sort through too many things all at once and the lines were getting crossed somewhere in it all. It was a lot to process and not only because of the last memory where he saw Snape, the man he's come to trust and depend on, almost hit him. He was so sure that _this Snape_ was different; _this Snape_ didn't abuse the power he'd had and like everything else in his miserable life, he had been wrong. In his current state of panic, it never even occurred to him that the memory he saw was the shift between the Snape he used to know and the Snape that was there with him now; the man he respected, the man he had started to love.

In his jumbled mind, he instantly jumped from one thought to the next. How did all of that even happen to begin with? Once he entered his Occlumency forest, instead of flying overhead, like he had been doing so often when he practiced, he had been held firmly in place by a black cloud of darkness as everything unfolded before him. No matter how hard he tried to free himself, he was completely stuck in place with absolutely no power to move; that in itself was a terrifying feeling. What was that holding onto him? And how were Snape's memories able to be projected into his own mind? He couldn't even do magic right now, so it shouldn't have even been possible.

Once again, his thoughts shifted, it was as if each one was a grain of sand filtering across his brain. He was able to see his mum as a normal kid and as a teenager not much different than he was now. She was beautiful, kind, and he would give anything to have been able to know her himself. He grieved all over again for the mum he never had. From viewing the memories, it was now obvious to him that Snape had loved his mother; not like a friend nor like a sister, but he had truly loved her. Harry could feel the emotion as the memory played before him. What would have happened if they'd never had their falling out?

_I wonder if he went skiing?_

He was then brought to the memory of him and Snape doing something that was one of his biggest regrets from his childhood - not getting to be a part of any holiday traditions. He used to spend every Christmas locked in his cupboard while Dudley decorated the house and the Christmas tree with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, baked Christmas biscuits, and opened presents; all while he sat there wishing he could change himself into the kind of child they would at least want, or - if he were in a particularly emotional mood - maybe even someone they might have loved one day. Yet right before his eyes he saw that exact thing he'd been longing for; he felt Snape's love for the boy that was Harry, but at the same time not himself. For a brief moment, he was filled with pure elation.

Harry couldn't stop the tears and the burning question in the back of his mind; was he grieving for his mum, for Snape, or for the boy he wanted to be? Did it really matter?

Things had been going so well for him and Snape. He had truly started to care about Snape; he felt like this was his home, where he belonged, and now it was all pulled out from underneath him, just like everything always was in his life. He was slowly drowning in the grief that filled every cell in his body, once again he had been betrayed by someone he was supposed to be able to trust.

The Gryffindor had the urge to leave, to get as far from the dungeons as he physically could. But where would he go? Could he walk away from Snape forever? No matter how he felt at that exact moment, deep down he wasn't sure he was ready to do something that drastic.

The young wizard finally fell asleep sometime around three in the morning, still sprawled across the top of his bedspread, feeling once again all alone in the world, and completely unaware of the trickle of blood flowing down from his scar.

It was like fate was trying to mess with his head more than usual, because that night he dreamed about Sirius for the first real time since he started living with Snape. Unlike his normal nightmare about Sirius, this one was not about his Godfather's death through the veil. Rather, Sirius was standing before him - at the house in Godric's Hollow he'd dreamed of before - lecturing Harry about how disappointed he was with the young wizard. Sirius kept laughing at Harry asking him over and over how he could be so naive as to think _Snivellus_ would actually care about him. Somewhere within his sardonic laughter, he told Harry how his dad would be extremely disappointed to know that the young Gryffindor was thinking of - or even wishing for - Snape as a father. It ended with Sirius face to face with him asking how could Harry not know that by now he was destined to be alone; he would always be alone.

"You disgust me," was the last thing he heard in his Godfather's voice before he sprung awake, tears pouring down his cheeks.

~~~~SS~~~~

**_Wednesday 18, December 1996_ **

As with the teenager in the room beside his own, Severus hardly slept at all that night. He stayed up going through all of the different conversations he'd had with Harry in the last few months about what life was like in his old reality and he tried to find ways he could have told the Gryffindor what had happened to cause him to change his views on the child. The times were there, he had just been too cowardly to take them; too afraid of shattering the life he wanted to be living. It was something he was not proud of; he was better than that and now he couldn't blame anyone but himself for Harry's feeling of betrayal.

It didn't surprise him the slightest when the young wizard did not show up to breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning. If it were any other day, the professor simply would have assumed the Gryffindor had slept in too late or was otherwise running late and decided to take his breakfast back at home. Unfortunately, given what last night had entailed, he wasn't so sure that was the case. Most likely, Harry had wanted to avoid seeing Severus completely this morning, and again he couldn't blame the teen.

"Where's Harry this morning?" Minerva asked from his left as breakfast was coming to an end. "He should have at least one exam today, is that correct?"

Minerva had previously approved for Harry to skip his practical exams - since he's not using magic at the moment - which meant he would not be in this morning's defense practical. It would definitely complicate the situation even further because now Harry would have no reason to see him before dinner. The Gryffindor would still be attending his Potions practical exam today, so he at least knew where Harry would be at some point of the day, which helped ease his anxious mind if only a little.

"We had an issue with Occlumency last night," he answered. As Harry's guardian, she did have the right to know that something had happened, though he wasn't going to go through the specifics.

Based on the incensed look from his colleague, she had assumed the worst.

"Oh, Severus," the elderly witch started to lecture him, "please do not tell me it was anything like last year!"

He gave her words some solid thought. Was it different than last year's failed attempts at teaching the young wizard? In the end, he'd determined this was at least just as bad, if not worse.

"No," he half-lied, standing to take his leave, refusing to subject himself to her piercing glare and the questions he really didn't want to answer.

As if proctoring practical exams all day wasn't trying enough, doing it on little to no sleep and being highly distracted made for an uncomfortable experience for both the professor and his students. By lunch, when Harry still hadn't shown up, the former spy was getting legitimately concerned. He decided to give the Gryffindor until dinnertime, before he started a search for Harry and in the meantime, he'd keep an ear out for signs of any trouble.

The deadline - and the rest of the day - dragged on until Severus found himself in his final period of the day before dinner; every professors' open office hours. He was trying to distract himself by staying on top of his marking of the written exams, so he wouldn't have to do them all on Friday night before the official close of term. Unfortunately, his mind kept circling back to the events of last night and he finally gave himself the opportunity to sort through it all.

If he could only get a chance to explain the situation, he was sure Harry would understand what had occurred between them, both directly after that memory and in the years to come. It had been the catalyst that forever changed their lives, as Severus had been ashamed of his own actions as well as shocked to his core by Harry's acceptance of them. He wanted the chance to explain to Harry that, while the single event he crudely saw started the change, it wasn't just that night that altered things between them. In fact, the rest of the year had proceeded in as much of the same way as it had in this reality, except without the acerbic reaction on his part to the Gryffindor. No, back in his old reality, he'd tried not to let it affect him, and in doing so it continued to eat away at him as the year progressed. In the years to come it ended up being something he'd come to feel almost grateful for.

That memory, when shown on its own and out of context, was dangerous. In fact now that he thought about it with a clearer head today it seemed almost too targeted. What _had_ occurred during their Occlumency session? He'd never seen anything with that type of reaction - attack was the better word for it - happen before. If his own Occlumency shields were useless because they were in Harry's mind, then how could his memories have been projected? It was as if Legilimency was being used within Harry's own mindscape, which is something he'd need to do some heavy research on. Could it have been Harry's unintentional magic coming through to defend against the potential attack? If that were the case, the more important questions would be why the sudden return of this magic and could his unintentional magic do something like Legilimency when Harry himself did not know how? The professor highly doubted that was possible, which only left one more possibility. It had to be the Dark Lord's soul fragment. If Voldemort could do Legilimency against Harry through that connection from Malfoy Manor, who was to say he couldn't do it against another mind within the Gryffindor's. It was possible - and even more probable now that they knew the Dark Lord was aware of their connection - that the evil wizard would know when another mind had entered Harry's and it staged the attack. His heart started to race as he worked his way through the implications of this idea. Instantly, the potentially fatal memory from last night played in his head:

_"Thanks, Dad," Harry said, grabbing one of the cups and sitting on the sofa._

The Dark Lord would have seen those memories as well, which meant it wouldn't be long before he put some kind of context to them. The former spy doubted even the Dark Lord would get to the answer of him being from a different reality, but now that he knew what to look for in Harry's mind it was, yet again, becoming more important for the young wizard to learn how to protect himself from an attack.

"Severus?"

The defense professor was brought out of his own thoughts by the knock on his door and his name being called. Not surprisingly, it was Minerva standing at his office doorway, but her worried eyes brought forth his own anxieties over Harry.

"What happened, Minerva?" He asked, standing to go with her, images of Harry at the hospital wing coming to the forefront of his mind. Those were quickly dismissed when she gestured for him to sit back down and she sat in the chair across from him.

"Horace just stopped by my office," she started, "Harry missed his Potion's practical examination this afternoon."

This was not good. Severus should have checked in on him regardless of the young wizard's supposed need for space during this whole ordeal. His eyes clearly spoke of his worry for him as Minerva continued.

"He's said he'll allow Harry to make up the exam without any penalty," the elderly witch explained, "so that's not as much an issue. I can tell something happened last night and I do believe it's time you tell me what that was, so when we do find Harry I can help him sort through it."

He felt vulnerable. Even in his old reality, the only people who knew what had happened that night was Harry, himself, and Albus. He assumed Harry had never told any of his friends. Though he certainly would have had the right to do so, Severus knew from his own experience that children who are abused likely don't want the attention that speaking up against it would create. Peering over his desk to his colleague, the one person who probably knew him better than anyone else at this time, he started telling her about what happened and as expected, she listened without prejudice. He explained it all; filling in the gaps he'd left out when he'd told her about his old reality for the first time back in August, about the odd Occlumency attack, about the memories, and about the event that forever shifted his view of Harry from the Boy-Who-Lived to the boy who eventually became his son.

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry woke up still feeling completely exhausted and panting to catch his breath; his shirt covered, yet again, in sweat. In his current negative mindspace, he was sure there would never come a day when he _wasn_ ' _t_ haunted in his sleep one way or another. What would happen if he did manage to somehow live long enough to get married and he was still plagued with these horrific nightmares? Who was he kidding though, between the cancer and being a Horcrux for the most evil wizard of all, he wouldn't survive long enough to get married. Shaking his head to try to rid that thought from himself, he got up to face the day.

He ate breakfast in the dungeons; knowing that Snape would be upstairs in the Great Hall and he had no intentions on facing him that morning. Luckily, Professor McGonagall had said he didn't need to attend the practical exams for the end of term, so he wouldn't need to face the professor that morning either. In lieu of his defense class, Harry decided to bundle himself up - feeling a touch guilty as he put on his winter coat from Snape - and take a walk out on the grounds. Fresh air always helped him sort through a mess like this.

Harry was so lost in his mind, he didn't care that there was a light snow falling from the sky or that the cold air was whipping past his face. No matter how much he tried, he could not help thinking about the dream - no, the nightmare - he had last night. It was true, Sirius and his dad would have been extremely disappointed with him for how much his feelings for Snape had changed in such a short time frame. After seeing Snape's memory in his pensieve last year and the way Sirius and Snape interacted at Grimmauld Place, it was no secret how they'd viewed each other. It had been a hostile relationship, at best, and here he was living with the man his own family hated. But he wasn't the same Snape anymore. Harry felt the love he had for his son where he came from and all he knew was that right now, in this current reality, no one had felt that way for him.

 _So does it really matter?_ He challenged himself. So what if Snape lied about something that hadn't even happened in this lifetime?

In the process of mentally defending his situation against Sirius in his nightmare, Harry went from hating Snape for lying to him about how their relationship had changed, to not thinking it was a big deal that the man had wanted to hit him as an 11-year old. By the time he made it to the Black Lake, not even knowing that was where his legs were taking him, he'd run through the gamut of his emotions and it made him sick to his stomach just thinking about it all. He wasn't sure if his confusion was from being ashamed of himself for how quickly he trusted Snape here and thought of the man like a father, or because deep down he really wanted to simply forget about this completely and go back things as they had been.

His mind had been so focused on the situation inside of him, he didn't see the other student running towards him until they literally collided into one another.

"I'm so sorry," the Gryffindor said sheepishly, helping Luna Lovegood up from the ground. The Ravenclaw witch was also bundled up in her own winter gear - blue and silver instead of red and gold - with a pair of large colorful glasses covering her eyes making her appear a bit like a multicolored owl. "Erm… I wasn't paying attention."

"Oh, that's alright," Luna reassured him as if he hadn't just pummeled her onto the cold, wet ground, "I was just out looking for wrackspurts."

Harry had no idea what she was talking about, so he waited for her to continue explaining, except all she did was stare at him with the ridiculous glasses still on her face, her head turning in his confusion.

"Is that what… " gesturing to the glasses, he trailed off.

"Oh!" The blonde witch called out, excitedly, pulling off the glasses, "these are Spectrespecs! You need them to see the wrackspurts, you see."

Harry didn't quite believe her, but he wasn't going to question her on it either.

"So what brings you out here in the beautiful weather this morning?" She asked him, and they started to walk back towards the castle side-by-side.

Harry looked around at the ugly grey sky that was still spitting wet heavy snowflakes and the already snow covered ground that had been walked through so often yesterday that it had thick trails of brown mud streaked through it. There was nothing about that morning he would classify as beautiful, but looking to his right at Luna's serious, yet innocent face, he could just tell that while she saw the world differently, it didn't make it any less true.

"I needed room to think," the Gryffindor furrowed his eyebrows knowing that made absolutely no sense; no one really needed physical room when they had to think.

"When I have something big on my mind, I like to find someplace small to sit," she casually explained. "This way, I don't try to solve the whole thing at once. I can only work on what fits in my space, then I can let that part out and allow the next part in."

The thought of a small space - like his cupboard - made him shiver. There was no way he could be claustrophobic after living ten years in that thing, but that didn't mean he liked thinking back to those days. No, he needed room to let his thoughts out, let them rearrange into something he could comprehend a little easier. In a way, he and Luna might actually be talking about the same thing.

"But what always helps the most," she continued, "is talking about it with someone else."

The young wizard had heard that plenty of times before - from Snape, Healer Smithe, and Dr. Swanson - and he couldn't deny that his weekly chats with Snape had indeed helped him immensely.

"I learned something yesterday," Harry found himself saying to the girl next to him, "that something bad happened, eventually good came out of it, but someone I really trusted hid it. And I just don't know if I can continue trusting the person who lied to me about it… or more like, didn't tell me the whole truth about it."

Luna stared at him for a solid minute, her face completely blank as she thought - Harry guessed that was what she was doing - over what he'd told her. It really made no sense, but he couldn't tell her about Snape and his other reality, so it was the closest he could get.

"Sometimes parents keep things from us when they think we can't understand. They don't always realize that we're stronger than they think we are," the Ravenclaw finally said, completely astonishing Harry by the proclamation, "Professor Snape doesn't mean to hurt you, Harry. I can tell how much he cares about you and if he chose not to tell you something, I'm sure it was for a good reason."

His mouth fell open. She really was amazingly in tune with the things around her and Harry questioned if perhaps it was everyone else who had things wrong.

"How did you..."

"I can tell whatever is on your mind is deeply bothering you," Luna reached out her hand to hold his, "and the only person who would affect you this badly is Professor Snape. You've never grown up with parents, Harry, and therefore this is all new to you."

She didn't say that last sentence in a way that was sympathetic, like how everyone else sounded when they talked about him being an orphan; like he didn't already know and by saying it to him, it would somehow break whatever imaginary world he'd been living in. No, she said it in a matter-of-fact way that Harry very much appreciated.

"If you say good came from whatever it was that happened," Luna let go of his hand and gave him a soft smile, "then something good will come from this too."

She had this air of confidence around her that Harry just couldn't ignore. It was like somehow her confidence reached inside and helped to close the wound that had opened inside of him last night. Harry was so deep in thought of what Luna said, he hadn't noticed her start to skip off back into the castle. Suddenly, a thought popped into his head, and he questioned why he hadn't thought of this all along.

"Luna!" He called off, jogging until he caught up with her. "Do you want to go to Slughorn's Christmas Party with me?"

"That's so nice of you, Harry," Luna said, whimsically, "but I'm just not ready to date anyone right now."

For the first time since the horrible Occlumency lesson, Harry laughed. Only Luna could make a response like that sound so positive and uplifting.

"Me neither, Luna," he reassured the girl in front of him. "I'd like to take you as my friend. I think we'd have a good time together."

Luna's eyes relaxed, "Well, in that case, it's a wonderful idea."

And just like that he had a date to the Christmas party and had at least a start to sorting through the mess in his head.

As with breakfast, Harry chose to have lunch at home instead of the Great Hall. He knew Snape wouldn't worry over him not being there as long as he showed up by dinnertime and it would give him some extra time to think through everything before he saw his friends again at their Potion's practical right after lunch. The Gryffindor had spent the morning thinking about what Luna had told him and what he _wanted_ to do about the situation, not what he _thought_ he should do.

Yes, his nightmare had been horrific and he had no idea what Sirius or his parents would really think about the situation he found himself in with Snape, but the fact was that none of them were here with him today. It didn't make one difference what they would want if they couldn't be here to follow through. For whatever reason - he didn't want to go down the road of guilt over their deaths at that moment - they were all gone and he was here to sort through his life by himself. And as part of that process, he was able to determine two things: he liked where he was with Snape and he wanted to keep it. He wouldn't deny that it was awful that Snape almost hit him, which admittedly wasn't the most stable reason to change your views about a person, but in Harry's twisted lack-of-self-esteem mind, it somehow made sense. Snape wasn't going to just wake up one morning and decide he didn't hate Harry anymore, especially after what he had learned about the relationship between his parents and Snape. This left Harry with two choices; he could continue to hold it against the professor and leave all this behind or he could move forward, as his other self apparently did, and maybe end up somewhere good for once in his life.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus tried to keep his anger in check as he rapidly walked through the corridors back down to the dungeons, where hopefully Harry would be able to explain why he did not attend his Potion's exam this afternoon. Obviously the teen was still upset, but that did not excuse intentionally missing classes, especially when that specific class was his final exam. Not to mention, this was now the second time the Gryffindor had skipped class when he was angry and it was not a habit he wanted to endorse.

Without giving it another thought, the professor stormed into his quarters fully expecting to head to Harry's room, but was stopped short as he passed the sitting room. Laying across the sofa was Harry - dressed in his uniform, so he'd at least had intentions of going to class - fast asleep with Severus's old battered up copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ laying open across his chest. The lavender book was slowly rising and falling in the same rhythm of Harry's steady breathing. He approached the sofa and kneeled down in front of the young wizard who, for once, looked so peaceful in his sleep. It was like he had left everything else behind in his complicated life, and Severus hated to have to wake him.

"Harry," he said quietly, placing his strong hand on Harry's still thin shoulder. "Harry, wake up."

Unlike the times he'd woken this child up from his nightmares, this time he opened his eyelids slowly, taking in the scene around him through his bright emerald eyes. The professor could tell the moment his brain remembered what had happened and the awful world he'd woken up to, when his eyebrows lowered into a frown.

"You missed your Potion's exam," Severus decided that topic was far more innocent than anything that sat between the two of them as of late.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head as he sat up, causing his textbook to fall to the floor, "I was just studying..."

Severus picked up the book, placing it back on the sofa beside Harry, "And apparently you'd fallen asleep. It's almost dinnertime."

Harry held his head in his hands, "No, no, no. I needed to be at that exam."

"Professor Slughorn is allowing you to make it up tomorrow with no penalty," the professor explained what Minerva had told him. "Dare I say, you've now got good cause for going to his party on Friday."

He hadn't been trying to do so, but that statement lightened the air between them drastically. Harry gave a small smile and nodded in agreement that he would both be taking the make-up exam as well as go to the party. But as with all good things, the light air didn't last and before either wizard was ready, a cold, thick silence fell upon them.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, so quietly and suddenly the professor almost had to strain his ears to hear him.

"You haven't anything to apologize for," he said confidently, already knowing the apology was not for missing his exam. "I should have explained the circumstances behind the cause of my sudden change of heart towards you in my old reality. There were plenty of chances for me to do so, but I was too afraid of losing you here as well."

There it was, he'd said the words he'd been dancing around all day. Harry's head lifted to meet Severus's eyes. For the first time, the professor was relieved to be able to read all of Harry's emotions on his face. The Gryffindor was not angry, nor was sad, he had a look of acceptance which could go either way, but Severus took it as a good emotion for them right now.

"I didn't care, did I?"

Again, they both knew exactly what he was referring to, and Severus was going to take this opportunity to explain as much as Harry would allow, "Unfortunately, no you did not. When I left that hallway I wished you had cared; I wished you had enough self respect to go directly to the headmaster's office and tell him what had happened. I wished that you had not had enough reasons to accept the idea that a professor in your school would hit you for doing seemingly nothing at all.

"Instead, it was I who went to the headmaster's office and told him what I almost did... that I had lost control. All the way up until the day I left that reality for this one, he never told me why he did not fire me on the spot when I more than deserved it. That night I told him my suspicion that you were not... unfamiliar with this kind of abuse and that you could not go back to Petunia's care. It was a point of conflict between us the rest of the year, as I've previously said, until I told him I'd take you myself."

Harry hung his head, this time in what Severus took as disappointment, at least until the wizard spoke again, "I looked happy... In the Christmas tree memory."

The pain in Harry's voice tore through him and it was with his own heavy heart that Severus replied, "We were happy, Harry. In your own words - it was small, but we were a family."

"Is it sad that I wish I had that? I wish those were my memories I saw and not just yours?" he softly asked.

"I want to give that to you, Harry," Severus said, standing up to sit besides the young wizard on the sofa, his knees sore from kneeling on the stone floor, "if you'll let me. Things won't always be perfect, as I'm sure you've already seen I won't always be perfect, but I will do everything I can to protect you, to guide you, and to care for you."

Harry frowned with a single thought weighing heavy on his mind, "I'm not him, though."

"No, you are not him," Severus thoughtfully and confidently said, "My son died of Leukemia on the 16th of May, 1997, but I'm getting the chance to know you just as you are now; as someone who I happen to care about just as much."

He could see Harry thinking hard about everything they'd just said. On the one hand he hoped Harry would be able to forgive him for the actions in his previous reality as well as his omission of the truth here, but at the same time what did that say about Harry's expectations of those around him, as well as his own sense of self-respect?

"I want that too, Severus," Harry said after what felt like an eternity.

Severus didn't try to hide his smile and relief. Things would work out between them in the end, and just in time to celebrate their first Christmas holiday together.

~~~~HP~~~~

For some reason Harry didn't know why he didn't foresee the fact that his dress robes wouldn't fit from the Yule Ball two years ago. If he needed new school robes this year because he'd managed to grow taller just from the start of the fifth year, he absolutely wouldn't fit in something from even a year earlier. Luckily - and not so surprisingly, as the man had previously stated that the little details are things he's always looking at - Snape had anticipated this issue and when he woke up Friday morning, the last day of term and the day of Slughorn's party, there hanging in front of his wardrobe was a new set of black dress robes.

He was now showered, dressed, and ready to go; if only his legs would listen to him and walk out of his bedroom door. Luna was meeting him outside of Slughorn's office, where the party was being held, so he couldn't really stall any longer otherwise he would end up leaving her sitting there waiting for him. They may not be going as a couple, and knowing Luna she might not even notice, but he couldn't leave her there waiting for him.

"You look nice," Snape said from his armchair in the sitting room when Harry finally emerged from his bedroom dressed for the night.

"Thank you," The Gryffindor immediately flushed, "For the dress robes too."

It looked as if the professor wanted to say something to that, but chose not to at the last minute. Instead, Harry sat down on the sofa already wanting to leave the party and it hadn't even started yet.

"Are you sure I can't bail out?" He asked, hopefully.

Snape placed his reading down - one that appeared to be for enjoyment and not for research - then gave Harry an amused look without uttering a single word.

"Fine," Harry conceded, standing up again feeling awkward about what to do next. Was he supposed to tell Snape when he'd be home? No one else there tonight would have this issue. "Erm… guess I'll see you later?"

It was lame, but effective so he didn't think anymore about it.

"Have fun," Snape said, picking his journal back up to continue reading. It was an odd exchange that had Harry thinking about it long after he'd left and was making his way to Slughorn's office.

The party had barely started, and Harry was already looking towards the exit. Or where he thought the exit was anyway. It was hidden beneath one of the many water-falling drapes hanging superfluously from the room's ceiling, making him feel trapped. The ambiance reeked of lavish redundancy, from the glittery gilded chandelier attracting faeries in its orbit to the dizzying parade of posh finger foods whizzing between party goers, the elves holding the platters expertly weaving in and out of legs. It was definitely something he had no experience being at and it made him feel extremely out of place.

This wasn't anything like the Yule Ball; the only other formal occasion he'd attended. There wasn't an electrifying undercurrent stringing the guests together, all eager for the chance to dress in their formal attire, swarm the dance floors, and enjoy the fervor of their youth long into the night. No, Slughorn's party brought with it a stuffy aroma that would be appreciated by guests twice or thrice their age. It was a revelry for the elite and affluent, not a gathering for students, and that became obvious the moment Harry - with Luna, who was beautifully and a bit eccentrically, dressed for the night - was paraded around from one elitist to the next. Slughorn sounded like he had an agenda and Harry was dead set on steering clear away from whatever that was.

"How long are you going to be hiding over here? The whole night?"

Harry almost dropped his drink at the familiar voice, recovering in time to see a wash of wispy platinum blonde hair atop a lithe figure smartly dressed in black. "What? I wasn't… I wasn't hiding…" The Gryffindor looked away from Draco, not liking the arched slender brow that saw right through him. "I was just waiting for… my date to finish her conversations."

He thought the Slytherin would accept the excuse, or at least take pity on him and leave him in his misery alone. But he wasn't so lucky. Where Harry felt self-conscious and stilted in his new robes that poured around his still fragile, thin body, the Slytherin thrived in the stiff atmosphere. Harry imagined the Malfoy heir grew up attending parties just like this one in his extravagant Manor. Immaculately designed robes flowed with the blonde's body, looking natural and fitting for the other teen. He moved with shunning gravitas that only made Harry feel more awkward and nervous, as if standing beside the well-mannered Pureblood would draw attention to his own feeble body.

Harry motioned to Luna across the room, who was chatting in a circle of girls with Hermione at the center. What else would Draco want him to do while the girls did… whatever it was they were doing?

"You're waiting for Luna to finish her conversation?" Draco repeated, and somehow Harry knew this wasn't going to end well for him.

"Yes, I'm being polite."

"You're being antisocial."

"No, I'm not, I- I just-," Harry's mouth hung open, left wanting for words. He sighed as Draco shook his head and put his arm around Harry's shoulder.

"Look there, you see Hermione?" Draco asked.

Harry didn't answer. Of course he saw Hermione showing off her new rose gold charm bracelet. It was one of finest pieces of jewelry Harry had ever seen, but he'd never admit that to Draco. The young heir set to inherit a fortune had taken Harry's gift idea and purchased what he considered to be a modest present. Harry wondered how Draco defined modesty as he glanced at the polished silver cuff-link bound to the pristine tailored sleeve resting on his shoulder. Prior to the Yule Ball, Harry had never owned robes worthy of a black tie affair. Draco, however, probably never wore the same robes twice for a party. The designer robes would never be washed, folded, nor wrinkled. They would be perfectly preserved in Draco's wardrobe along with the other dozens of robes that were deemed obsolete fashion. Harry felt himself start to sweat and his face flush. He was thankful for the dim light in the room to hide his shame. What would Draco - or any of the influential witches and wizards in attendance tonight - think if they knew that until this year, Harry hadn't even had a set of non-school clothes that properly fit him?

"They're talking about me, even when I'm not there," Draco began, drawing Harry's attention back to the subject at hand. "See, the bracelet was my gift to her. I get the limelight without having to say a word. Get it?"

"No," Harry shook his head; that made absolutely no sense to him.

Draco winced, "Look, they'll remember the bracelet, and that I gave it to her, so when they think of the party, they'll think of me," the blonde looked wide eyed, filled with self satisfaction. "Brilliant, if I do say so."

Draco reminded Harry of a vacuum salesman who visited his relatives house once. The peddler pitched the vacuum, and all the work it would save Aunt Petunia - because who would think it would be primarily used by the small eight year old living there - as if it were the key to achieving one's life long dreams. Draco watched the girls with a keen grin, and Harry wondered if an hour was long enough of an appearance to justify leaving.

"I know what you need," Draco snapped his fingers and ushered Harry deeper into the corner of the room. "A little liquid courage ought to do the trick, yeah?" The blonde reached into his robe and pulled out a small flask of whiskey, which he gave a playful little shake.

"I don't think that's a good idea…" Harry looked nervously over his shoulder, suddenly feeling as if the entire world was witnessing their transgressions and rule breaking. And while his nerves were without merit – no one paid attention to the teens lingering on the party's perimeter – he did spot a familiar mop of greasy black hair between the sheer drapes, lost in the crowd on the opposite side of the room.

_There's no way that Snape would be here. He would have at least told me that._

The blonde pulled a face. "You of all people, can't tell me you always follow the rules. It'll be fine." A little splash of the amber liquid plopped into Harry's drink, while he favored a much more liberal serving for himself. The nondescript flask corked and stowed back in his robes, Draco quickly clinked the rim of his glass against Harry's. "Happy Christmas to us, mate. Cheers."

It was one of the strangest encounters Harry had ever had with the Slytherin, and given their complicated history, that was saying a lot. As he watched the other teen keenly indulge in the illicit cocktail without a single hesitation of remorse, Harry idly turned his own drink in his hand, trying to buy himself time. "I don't know if this is smart with all of my…" His emerald eyes darted back across the room, ignoring the laughing party goers and small groups that had naturally formed. For a brief moment, he breathed easier at not spotting Snape – what _was_ he doing there, anyways? – and began to lift the glass to meet his lips. Maybe Draco was right. There was something freeing about the entire situation, something so _normal_ about it that he could be attracted to breaking the rules at least once this year; by his own calculation, he was a little behind any of his previous years in that endeavor.

For the first time, in a long time, he wasn't idly watching his friends enjoy their coming-of-age rituals of dating and going to classes and living life. For once, he wasn't watching the world spin while he was forced to stay stationery. He was at the core of the activity, a participant and not just a spectator. It felt devious and wrong, and yet so right at the same time.

That thought froze as fast as Harry's glass did when he saw Snape leaning in towards Slughorn to whisper something to him. Their eyes met – emerald finding onyx – only for a second, but a second was all that was needed. Recognition flashed across the potion master's face and he stepped away from Slughorn, in the teens' direction.

"Draco!" Harry turned sharply to the other boy, who had drained his first glass and suavely snatched another drink off a passing elf's silver platter. Turning his body slightly away from the party, the Slytherin slipped a hand back into his robes to fetch out the rebellious flask of booze. Harry grabbed for him. "No! Draco! Stop!"

But the blonde didn't see Snape zigzagging his way between students, careful not to step on formal robes and dresses, but his destination no less questionable.

"Relax!" Draco retorted, drawing back a bit to dodge the Gryffindor's reach. "Well, you _would_ be relaxed if you'd have your bloody drink. This is good stuff, too. Bushmills from the seventeenth century!"

Harry didn't care if it was from the turn of the millennium or when Ollivanders established his shop in Diagon Alley in 382 BC. A sudden surge of panic coursing through him, Harry practically threw himself at the young Slytherin as he saw Snape getting closer. Harry had the element of surprise on his side, but that was only as good as the follow up that came after, and in the Gryffindor's dilapidated state, he didn't stand a chance in a physical grapple.

The two wrestled for the flask for a few painful seconds before Draco abruptly jerked his body to the side in an effort to thwart off the other teen. It was a move done on pure reflex, and not one of sound logic. Draco had jerked towards the party. Towards Snape. The flask flung out from his hands, much to both boys' horror, the blonde's own damning momentum turned against him.

The flask seemed to move in slow motion as it spun across the floor with a mind of its own, the teens staring in awed dread. Draco was the first to dive after it, perhaps sensing the direness of the situation, and hoping to remedy it before anything ill could come about.

And while Draco might've thought himself successful as he quickly bent down with all the grace of a Seeker, collecting the flask in one fell swoop, Harry saw the impending train wreck. Snape stopped directly in front of his Slytherin, clearly having seen the offending little flask, and looked conspiringly between Harry and Draco, making the connection in his head. Harry thought he saw a flicker of déjà vu in the professor's eyes, but a moment later the darkness returned.

The stare that Snape lingered on Harry made his insides squirm, but luckily it only lasted a few seconds before the ire was directed down at the blonde. "Hand that over. Now."

"Wow. Bottles of firewhiskey falling from the canopy," Draco began in a melodramatic, over the top tone that would've made Harry roll his eyes if he wasn't staring at Snape's tense face. The blonde continued with a disapproving shake of his head, pale hair sweeping across his forehead. "Great idea for party favors, but hardly appropriate around students. Someone should talk to him about that, honestly."

Harry had always wondered what the Basilisk's stare would have been like. He imagined cold, dark, transfixing eyes, and a gaze so mesmerizing that time seemed to stop as the life force was sucked from the body. Sounds and colors would fade underneath the scrutiny of those eyes. It was quite merciful really, compared to Snape's current expression.

"Mr. Malfoy, how curious it is, that you do so well in class when you have the judgement of a child." It was not a question. A hand emerged from Snape's flowing black robes and Harry watched, as Draco hesitated, but relinquished his flask. The Gryffindor quickly deposited his own glass on a passing elf's tray, eager to get rid of his own evidence. Meanwhile, Severus popped the top off the flask and smelled the contents, as if to further embarrass the teens that it was not, indeed, pumpkin juice. A thin smile spread across his lips. It was a polite gesture, a courtesy to Slughorn, to mask his rage from spoiling the party.

Harry took half a step back, and Snape's head turned instantly towards him, "Come with me. Now."

The former spy turned and seemed to glide towards the door. Harry shared one final glance with Draco before both boys hurried after their professor, knowing if they delayed it would only make whatever their punishment was, worse.

As Harry walked down through the extravagant room - trying, unsuccessfully to catch Luna's attention to hopefully let her know he'd be back soon - he followed Snape as they exited Slughorn's office and into the dark empty corridor. After living six years in the magical world, he was still amazed with what magic could do; such as change a room from a drab, cold office into the warm, lively space he'd just left. If he made it out of this alive, he was determined to enjoy the rest of the night dancing with Luna or doing whatever else it was that his classmates were doing to have a good time.

Both students were lined up against the stone wall and a quick glance over at Draco showed the other teen was not nearly as frightened as Harry felt inside. Professor McGonagall - and Uncle Vernon, in a very different way - had given him plenty of angry lectures, but he'd not had the heavy feeling of guilt and disappointment fill him up inside during either of those.

"What were you thinking?" The man in front of them asked in a much calmer voice than Harry anticipated given what he'd just found. "Did you want to get expelled? Forget about your education, do either of you know what that would mean for your personal safety?"

"No, sir," Harry replied more to the first question than the second. If the situation had been different, he would have found the parallel between Snape's statement and Hermione's first year, after their encounter with Fluffy, extremely humorous. Naturally, he didn't think Snape would find it as funny given their current circumstances.

"First," Snape turned to Harry and the Gryffindor noticed his obsidian eyes were not filled with nearly as much rage as he'd expected, "do you happen to know if alcohol will interact with any of your plentiful medications?"

He'd actually thought of that, however this wasn't exactly the time to mention it. Stating that fact would only make it look like he'd ignored the idea completely, which was counterproductive. Instead, he averted his glance away from the professor.

"I know you didn't want to come to this, Harry," the older wizard continued, "but I'd like you to think about the people here and the image this-" he held up the flask "- gives them of you."

"I'm sorry, sir," and he truly was. He had hard enough time getting people to see him for who he was and not the Boy-Who-Lived or The Chosen One and this didn't help him out at all.

"Go back to the party," Snape eventually said, "we'll finish this when you get back home."

The Gryffindor gave Draco an apologetic look; he'd really only been trying to help the blonde.

Walking back towards Slughorn's office - silently hoping he could slip back in unnoticed - he thought he should check if Draco needed him to relay a message to Hermione. After contemplating the idea for almost a minute, he decided to turn around and ask.

"-have any idea how much danger she puts you in!" He heard Snape say in a low, threatening voice just before he turned the corner into view. Harry stopped in his tracks, listening in, even though he knew he shouldn't. "You're playing with fire, Draco, and that was before you pulled this little stunt tonight!"

Snape was releasing all the anger Harry had seen in him, but hadn't experienced. It wasn't fair to Draco. Yes, he'd brought the flask and had clearly been drinking from it earlier in the evening, but weren't teenagers supposed to make mistakes sometimes?

_But not us._

"Between _him_ and my father, my Christmas is already going to be horrid," he heard Draco aggressively reply, "just wanted to have a good time."

"You need to stay focused," the former spy reiterated, "you've been far too distracted lately and one of these days that _distraction_ will be the end of you."

Harry tried to think about what distraction he was talking about, and could only up with Hermione.

"-people talk," Harry listened back unsure what he'd missed, "and if you think your interest in certain individuals won't get back into the wrong hands you're in for a rough reality check."

"I can handle _it_ myself," Draco spat, "I don't need your help on every little thing. At this point, I think I've managed to prove myself and my worth."

"To whom?" Snape sounded tired and not just from the conversation he'd been having. "If you think for a moment that you're not disposable to him, you're making a fatal mistake."

There was a long pause with murmurs that Harry couldn't quite hear.

"You have what you need?" He finally heard Snape asl, a little louder giving Harry the impression they'd moved closer to him.

"Yes, sir," the newest spy responded a little stiffly. "I know what I'm doing."

"Good. Then I expect a full report first thing at the start of term."

At the definite sound of footsteps coming closer to him, Harry hid into an alcove. Sure enough, both Slytherins passed right by him, neither one noticing him hiding in the shadows. It was a testament to how distracted they were, but Harry wasn't about to point that out.

"And Draco? Take this." The professor called before the other teen was sucked back in through massive drapes covering the entrance. Harry couldn't tell what the professor had given Draco. "If you need me over the holiday, use that to contact me as I will not be in the castle, nor will I be available by floo."

_What?!_

Where was Snape going over the holiday? And where would he be staying if not with the professor? Harry furrowed his brows with a frown trying to playback the odd conversation and hoping he'd heard it wrong. Completely in a trance, the young wizard walked back into the party, completely unaware of the loud music greeting him.

"There you are," Luna said, walking up to him with Hermione and Draco arm-in-arm right behind her, "I was following another boy around who looked identical to you for a while there. Then I realized he didn't have any glasses, but he was a lovely dancer."

There was something about the Ravenclaw's pure innocence that lifted his mood. He peered beyond Luna, catching Hermione's eye and she simply shrugged her shoulders, apparently just as confused as he was with his date's statement.

"No, I'm still here," Harry replied, then allowed himself to get pulled back into the room.

The rest of the night was filled with dancing - to which Luna was surprisingly very good at - and eating foods Harry had very little knowledge of what they were, but he'd tried as many as he could. By the end, Harry found he actually had a great time. It wasn't until after he had walked Luna back to the Ravenclaw portrait and was heading back to the dungeons, that he started to sort through what he'd overheard between Snape and Draco. Regardless of how much he wanted to interpret it differently, Snape was going to be leaving him over the Christmas holiday and Harry found himself extremely saddened by that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Calm Before The Storm


	54. The Calm Before The Storm

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry woke up the day after Slughorn's party with a feeling of dread sitting in the pit of his stomach and he had no idea why. It took a solid minute for his brain to clear out and him to realize that it was officially the start of the Christmas Holiday. His friends had likely all left for the Hogwarts Express this morning - to which he was told he could not go for safety reasons - and he now had no idea what would be happening to him after overhearing that Snape would not be here during the break. It was like they were always going two steps forward and one step back; making progress - towards what he wasn't exactly sure - but at such a painstakingly slow rate.

He took his time getting ready for the day, having no idea what to expect when he left the relative safety of his bedroom. When he'd gotten back late last night, he assumed Snape had already gone to bed as the sitting room was empty and the Gryffindor was not about to go to the man's bedroom and tell him he was back just in case he was asleep. Waking a sleeping Snape was a sure fire way to end up as Potion's ingredients; especially after what happened with Draco. Being able to take a good guess at Snape's ability to set up alarms and wards, he assumed the professor knew when Harry so much as sneezed, so he wasn't feeling too bad about not telling him.

"Good morning," he was greeted by the professor the moment he stepped into the kitchen. "Did you have a good night last night?"

Who was he kidding, there was no way he was going to make it out of this without some kind of conversation regarding his night.

"It was good," he went with, "I actually had a lot of fun, and I think Luna did too."

"I think Miss. Lovegood can have a good time doing just about anything," Snape said and Harry felt his guard come down slightly.

The Gryffindor took his seat at the breakfast table, filling half his plate before Snape placed his morning medications next to it, and the professor sat down across from him.

"About what you did last night-"

"It was stupid and I didn't drink any of it," Harry interrupted. Now that he thought about it, Snape never did ask him if he'd had any of the alcohol, "just so you know."

"Oh, I know you didn't," Snape replied, "I'd be able to smell it on your breath instantly."

Oh. Not that he was planning on doing that again, but it was good to know - though not surprising - that the former spy was indeed that observant.

"Good."

"I hadn't expected the need to set this rule, but do know that neither alcohol or drugs-" Snape paused with an inquisitive look to his face, "- will be tolerated while living here. You've had your warning and the next time you will face a punishment that matches the severity of the crime."

Harry took a long gulp of his pumpkin juice in an attempt to avoid having to respond to that. Instead, unwilling to trust his voice not to give away his fear over what kind of punishment would match that of underage drinking or drug use, he nodded his head in understanding.

"Good." The professor mirrored Harry's earlier response.

They both finished their respective breakfast in silence. Harry was ruminating over what he'd heard last night and wanted desperately to ask about it.

"I need you to get packed this morning," Snape eventually said, breaking their semi-companionable silence. "Everything you think you'll need for winter break, including Christmas. Remember, you have chemotherapy on the 24th and 25th."

At this point, one would think he wouldn't need the constant reminders, and yet he'd managed to forget these two. Just how he wanted to spend his Christmas holiday, alone and sick.

"Where am I going?" Harry asked sullenly, unsure if he actually wanted to know.

Snape lifted his head from a list he had been writing out and gave the young wizard an inquisitive stare, "I thought we could use some time away from the castle."

_We._

Harry hadn't missed that small, yet very important pronoun. Wherever Snape was talking about being last night, it had included him. Two things happened simultaneously as Harry digested and started to comprehend this simple idea; his anxiety over what he'd heard last night disappeared, and it was replaced with an overpowering sense of exhilaration.

"Where are we going?" He'd instantly perked up over the idea. Then hoping he wasn't stepping over some unknown boundary, he asked "Is it just us?"

"And your cousin," Snape answered, ignoring, most likely intentionally, the first question. "That is, unless you think he'd rather spend Christmas here alone."

"No!" Harry said, too animatedly. "He absolutely should come with us. What do I need to bring?"

"Comfortable clothing," Snape responded, "we are not going or doing anything fancy and again, you have chemotherapy. And don't forget to pack your school work, we won't be back until the day before term starts."

The Gryffindor nodded at the second reminder. Without giving it another thought, he got up from the table and went to his room to pack up. There was a duffel bag sitting on his bed, courtesy of Snape he was sure, so he wouldn't have to pack his whole trunk. It was something so small, but it was only the second time he was going somewhere that he didn't have to pack his entire worldly possessions - the first being last Christmas which he spent at Grimmauld place. Harry was sure that no one else would really understand what it was like having to pack up every you owned every time you went somewhere. It was a good feeling not to have to do that this year and a great start to his holiday, especially considering he'd woken up thinking he'd be shipped off elsewhere.

He had just finished his packing, including the Christmas gifts he'd finally gotten for Snape - luckily the last one had come in yesterday morning - when Dudley walked into his bedroom carrying his own duffel bag.

"Hey, Harry," Dudley called, standing a bit awkwardly in the bedroom. The turn of the tables between them had to be weird for the other teen and Harry was determined to try to help out wherever he could. "You packed?"

"Almost," the young wizard replied, adding his sketchpad and pencils to the top of his bag. "Any idea where we're going?"

Dudley shook his head, "Not a clue, I was hoping you would know."

The Gryffindor wondered what was with all the secrecy behind it. If this were the end of last year, or even most of the summer, he would have assumed the professor was taking him to Voldemort, now though, he trusted Snape.

"I heard you had an exciting time at the party last night," Dudley commented with a smile. "Honestly, I never thought of you as that kind of kid."

"I didn't drink it," Harry frustratingly said. "And so what if I did? I'm sure you've done loads worse than that."

It was something he shouldn't have said, he knew that the moment the words left his mouth, but Harry rarely thought before he spoke - especially to his cousin - and it was something he knew he had to work on. Dudley took it in stride though.

"That's not a good thing, Harry. Let me tell you from experience," the other boy explained, "it's best not to start down that road to begin with."

Both boys left it at that; Harry not daring to ask how his cousin knew something like that, and Dudley not offering any unsolicited advice. That fell into the area between them that neither really wanted to talk about. Instead, they focused on lighter topics: how their first term went, guesses to where they thought they were going, and how long they thought Ron would really stay with Lavender.

Snape walked in the room a short time later with his own bag slung over his shoulder. It was an odd sight to see the professor so casual, that Harry almost started laughing the minute his door opened. He'd managed to hold most of it in, but Snape still narrowed his eyes at the Gryffindor questioningly.

"I take it you're packed," Snape assumed as his eyes shifted towards Harry's bag. "Let us go."

Harry had naturally assumed that wherever they were going it would be by floo, so he was surprised when Snape led them to the door.

 _That right,_ he told himself, _Severus said he wouldn't be reachable by floo._

He was lost in his thoughts as they made their way through the empty castle and out to the grounds. It was obvious they were on their way to Hogsmeade to apparate or use a port key to the mysterious location.

"Are you ever going to tell me where we're going?" He asked, jogging a little to catch up to Snape's larger and faster strides.

"I couldn't even if I wanted to."

The Gryffindor chuckled at Dudley's confused face.

"Wait a second," the muggle said, "like you physically can't say? How is that even possible?"

"It's under a Fidelius charm then?" Harry asked, to which Snape merely nodded. Since it appeared the professor was going to ignore Dudley's questions, Harry explained, "it's a charm to keep secrets safe. It makes it impossible for just anyone to tell the secret, or location if it's a place because only the person who was entrusted the information can actually tell. That person's called the secret keeper. It'll keep us safe… "

He trailed off thinking at the same time he slowed his walking.

"Professor?" Dudley called ahead at the man who hadn't noticed the young wizard's abrupt change of pace. "What happened?"

Snape walked back to Harry and kneeled down in front of him, "You will be safe there. We will be safe there."

"Who's the secret keeper?" Harry asked, unsure if he actually needed to know that information to ease his troubled mind.

"One of the Weasley's," the former spy said. "I promise you, no one will be able to get to us."

Harry nodded and then said to Dudley, "My parents' house… erm… my house was under a Fidelius charm, but their secret keeper worked for… you-know-who and told him where they were. That's how he was able to blast right through the front door without any issues."

"Oh," now Dudley looked worried. "But it's someone from Ron's family. They'd never betray you like that."

"Exactly," Snape confirmed, "I've placed extra wards on the location as well. Trust me, Harry, no one can either find it nor will they be able to get to it."

Feeling the reassurance from his mentor, Harry picked up the bag that had fallen from his shoulder onto the wet ground and continued walking. The excitement he'd felt earlier had dissipated and in its wake was an uncertainty he couldn't quite place. Where exactly were they going that one of the Weasley's would be the secret keeper?

"Alright," Snape said, turning his head between both boys and then taking out a tattered hat. "Hold on to this."

Again, Dudley's confusion was enough for Harry to smile, easing some of his previous anxiety. Grabbing the hat, and then assuring Dudley he wasn't completely mental, they were whisked away, to where Harry still had no idea.

~~~~SS~~~~

Unlike the apparation point at Shell Cottage, the port key did not land them at the crest of the hill to where they could immediately see the beach. As expected, both boys fell with a hard _thump_ against the rocky ground, and Severus silently cursed himself for not thinking about landing somewhere softer. Once they got into the cottage, he'd need to ask Harry about any bruising, just to be safe. It would be an unfortunate way to start out their trip with an emergency visit from Dr. Swanson.

He'd gotten the idea to take the Gryffindor to Shell Cottage for Christmas shortly after the potions accident where he confirmed the soul fragment's presence. Refusing to allow Harry to cross paths with Alton even for a short while, to make this a reality meant going to Albus and requesting the Smithe's be moved to an alternate location. Whether it was by design that he did not know the new safe house they'd been transplanted to, or simply overlooked on the headmaster's part, Severus didn't know nor did he really care. All that mattered to him was that he was going to spend the Christmas holiday getting to show Harry the sea for the first time in his life.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, wiping the dirt from his jeans.

"Tinworth, in Cornwall," he answered because that was as far as he could say. Pointing up the hill behind the young wizard, he added, "That way."

The three of them walked up the small dirt path, listening to crashing waves increasing as they approached the crest.

"Is that..."

An emotion Severus was sure this version of his body had never felt before swelled up inside of him by the sheer excitement on Harry's face. He could tell instantly the moment the young wizard's emerald eyes set their sight on the expansive shoreline and large waves being brought to shore by the sharp wind. Some would say Cornwall was pointless to visit in the wintertime, but Severus disagreed. While one couldn't swim in the sea, the weather was surprisingly pleasant compared to the frozen landscape they'd just left behind and the waves took on a life of their own in the winter time. The professor could almost picture Harry - after spending the peak of the afternoon walking the shoreline - sitting with his red blanket out on the back porch simply watching the waves coming and going across the sand.

For a split second, he was brought back to his old reality; to the trip he'd taken with the other Harry to Aberdaron, as he remembered almost the same awe and appreciation in the young child's face, and yet somehow this Harry seemed even more awestruck. Severus had always hated the subject of divination - with good reason - and yet he couldn't deny the similarities, the pure coincidences, and the parallels between his old reality and this one. Lately there had been nuances that had left him thoroughly confused. Some of them he'd had control over, like coming to Shell Cottage or getting Harry's dress robes for Slughorn's party, while others were purely coincidental, like Harry asking him about a date to the party or Draco and Harry with the whiskey. It was as if certain parts of their life were fated to happen in one way or another, and the implications of that chilled him to his core. Didn't the cancer back there give all appearances that it was gone too? From his October appointment all the way up until that last month or so, every test had come back clean; the Leukemia had been going away, but then it wasn't and it took over too quickly to stop it.

Shaking his head, refusing to allow himself down that road on this holiday, he continued to watch Harry take in the scene in front of him. That type of thinking would be reserved for when he was back at school, back in real life. Here, he would commit to simply enjoying the time away and being able to focus on finally giving Harry at least one Christmas where he could live the life he'd seen in that memory.

"Ah, professor?" Dudley was the first to break the silence, "there has to be nothing around here for miles. Are you sure that hat dropped us off in the right place?"

The smirk that crossed Harry's face was worth the extra pause before he held out two pieces of parchment that would provide both teens with the details needed to get past the Fidelius charm. Of course Severus could see the small cottage to the left of the hill they stood on, surrounded by tall swaying grass that almost whispered as the wind passed through it and a tall cliff between the back porch and the beach.

"Read it," he started, "and then hand it back to me for incineration."

Harry, in an effort to embrace the magic, immediately closed his eyes after reading the small parchment. It was with his eyes closed that he handed it back to Severus who promptly destroyed the evidence with a quick _incendio._ Afraid to blink and potentially miss Harry's reaction to the full picturesque scene before him, the professor shallowed his breathing and was rewarded when the young wizard opened his eyes with a small gasp.

"This is perfect," he said, with a large smile and in a quieter voice added, "thank you."

"You are welcome. Let's go get settled."

And so the odd trio walked down the opposite side of the hill they'd come in on and towards the small cottage that would be their home until shortly after the New Year. With each step he took away into the boundary of the wards and away from the apparition point, Severus could feel himself relaxing, he could feel all his his anxieties and his worries slipping away so the next two weeks would allow him to focus solely on the two people walking in front of him.

* * *

"How did you know about this place?" Harry asked over a game of wizard's chess after dinner on their first night. Just like over the summer, Severus would be preparing their meals again, but tonight Harry insisted he and Dudley help - a testament to the young wizard's comfortable level.

It had been a relaxing day with a tour of the small, yet comfortable cottage and unpacking for their stay. Though Severus gave both boys the option to choose their rooms, either of the two smaller ones upstairs, he already knew Harry would select the smallest one that overlooked the cliff and beach. It was just large enough for the twin sized bed, with its old floral pattern that was too reminiscent of Petunia's style of decorating, that was placed along the far wall and came out into the room. Across from the bed, on the wall flushed with the door, leaving a narrow gap just wide enough for Harry to walk though, was a small set of drawers with an aging mirror atop of it, that Severus was not sure would even hold half of Harry's clothing for their visit. A tiny bookshelf that still had on it two children's books leftover as proof of the room's previous tenant was tucked against the wall furthest from the door, and finally a plush chair sat between the bed and the window; perfect for Harry to sit and watch the ocean first thing in the morning. Everything with their accommodations was ideal for their stay, except somehow he'd not considered the fact that the upstairs did not have a lavatory. While it wouldn't be an issue during most of their trip, it would leave Harry sleeping on the sofa during his chemotherapy nights. As of that evening, Harry either hadn't considered this fact or he chose not to say anything, but Severus didn't want to ruin the happy atmosphere by mentioning it.

Harry spent most of the day outside, still bundled up even though it wasn't nearly as cold as what they'd left back in Scotland, walking along the beach. Aptly named, Shell Cottage was the perfect place to find a full assortment of sea shells - large, small, and of various colors and shapes - and both boys found combing the beach to be a great first day's activity, only coming in for lunch and to help prepare dinner.

"It's a safe house for the Order," Severus responded, "probably my favorite of them all."

"I can see why," the Gryffindor replied. After spending so much time during his chemotherapy practicing, Harry had become a decent opponent to play against in chess. He had definitely come a long way since their first game back at Privet Drive in those early treatment days. "I seriously love it here. Thank you, again, for bringing us."

It was the gratitude he hated to hear not only because, in general, he didn't deserve it, but specifically from Harry as it was a constant reminder of the basic things the teen had been withheld growing up. Things like knowing when his next full meal would be, having someone - primarily an adult - think about his own needs and wants before their own, and the basic necessities of life. It infuriated the professor to think that Petunia would hold such a grudge against the child of her sister. At this point in his life, he could admit that he, too, had held a similar grudge, however he had not been entrusted the life of the small, innocent toddler.

"Healer Smithe's family was here, weren't they?"

Deciding not to lie to the Gryffindor, Severus said, "Yes, they were here until earlier this week and have since been moved to an alternate safe location."

Harry absent-mindedly nodded and then looked around the small sitting room and asked, "Will we be getting a Christmas tree?"

The abrupt change of topic caused Severus to chuckle slightly. It was another harsh similarity between the two realities he hadn't anticipated; Harry's occasional forgetfulness and his difficulty staying focused - the latter of which made his improving chess game all the more impressive. It seemed the chemotherapy was having the same effect as Harry's first potion regimen did and he hoped it would cease when the chemotherapy did as with the other side effects he was experiencing.

He didn't need the reminder of Harry's reaction to the memory of them celebrating Christmas last year. When he arranged the cottage to be free for their visit, he'd also made the arrangements for a Christmas tree, which he'd be picking up on Monday. It had been his and Harry's tradition to decorate the tree the day before Christmas Eve back at their Spinner's End home.

"I can arrange for a Christmas tree on Monday if that's alright?" he feigned ignorance.

"Absolutely!" The young wizard replied, probably more excited than he would have been had they been back at Hogwarts.

"We always decorated the tree on Christmas Eve," Dudley said from the worn out sofa. He'd been reading and Severus was ashamed that he had forgotten the other teen was there.

Severus had known that fact from his old life since it was one of the reasons they always chose the 23rd to do their decorating. Harry had wanted to do something different than his relatives, and as Severus had never had a tree growing up anyways, he went with his son's suggestion. For him, the 23rd of December would always be filled with hot chocolate, muggle Christmas music, and their Christmas tree. Watching Harry's reaction to his cousin's proclamation was both inspiring and infuriating. Harry deserved this Christmas and for it to be exactly whatever the Gryffindor wanted it to be. He'd spent so much of his young life conforming to everyone else's vision of him and this was supposed to be a time when he could do something for himself. And yet the moment Dudley mentioned how his family used to decorate their Christmas tree, Severus already knew what the young wizard would do and to call him out on it would only put Harry in a worse position.

"We can do it on Christmas Eve," Harry predictably suggested, "if that's what you want, Dudley."

"Thanks, Harry," his cousin replied, "I'd like that."

The former spy could feel the guilt radiating off the child across from him. This would be Dudley's first Christmas without his doting parents and no matter what the professor had previously told him, he knew Harry thought he was responsible for it. So naturally, Harry would want to do anything he could to ease Dudley's grieving, even if that meant decorating his first real Christmas tree after a day of chemotherapy.

~~~~HP~~~~

**_Tuesday, 24th December, 1996_ **

Each morning, before Harry even opened his eyes he already knew he was not only somewhere different, but somewhere new. This bed wasn't quite as comfortable as his bed back home at Hogwarts - and it was definitely smaller - but it was still infinitely better than his old one at Privet Drive or the hospital wing. The soft early rays from the sun that filtered in through the triangular window hit his face at a different angle, but the biggest difference he noticed in those first early moments of consciousness was the sound of the ocean and the smell of the sea air. It was so different than anything he'd ever experienced and yet something about it felt familiar; like he was meant to be here.

While Harry didn't know much about his counterpart back in Snape's old reality, he could definitely see that version of himself loving the ocean just as much as he did. Finally choosing to fully awaken, stretching to loosen his still aching body, he made his way over to the window and quietly watched the waves rhythmically cross the threshold of the beach. He briefly wondered if he should ask Snape about using the ocean as his Occlumency image, but decided flying was probably still the best option, even given the attack that had occurred. He didn't know when he'd visited the ocean in the professor's old reality, but he guessed they had to have at least attempted using an ocean landscape if he'd liked it this much and at least there, flying was still the most successful.

It was the morning of Christmas Eve - the first of his back-to-back chemotherapy days - and so Harry appropriately chose his pair of red and black flannel pyjamas to wear for the day along with his wool socks before heading downstairs for breakfast. The Gryffindor carefully made his way down the rickety staircase that went right through the middle of the small cottage; leaving the kitchen and dining room on his right and the lavatory and sitting room on his left. Halfway down the stairs, he could smell bacon wafting up from the kitchen drawing his attention to the fact that while he had breakfast every morning back home, the smells weren't nearly as enticing as when it'd been cooked in the same room. It brought him back to his days at Privet Drive making breakfast almost every morning for his relatives, at least up until his diagnosis; the only real good that came from the disease.

He carefully opened the door - just in case Snape or Dudley were near it - into the small, but cozy kitchen. On the far wall was a large fireplace with pots and pans surrounding it and a small, square work table directly in front. The entire right side of the room was covered in windows that started from the middle of the wall and went almost to the ceiling showcasing the ocean off the cliff and beach below it. Along with the windows on that wall were open format shelves. The whole atmosphere of the kitchen reminded Harry of the Burrow and he would bet that this cottage had belonged to them in some way.

To the left of the fireplace was a small faded green farmhouse table where Snape was sitting, drinking his morning cup of coffee. There were two place settings across from him, one with a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon and the other with a bowl of porridge, fruit, and granola.

"Morning," the young wizard said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and sitting down at the setting that also included the cup of his morning tablets.

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah," Harry said, a little surprised at that. Ever since they'd arrived at Shell Cottage, he had been sleeping the best in his life. There was something freeing about being there that he just couldn't figure out. Perhaps it was just the change of scenery - being somewhere completely different - that was good for him. Of course, all that might change when Dr. Swanson showed up for chemotherapy today. "I've been sleeping great here."

"It's the sea air," Snape said casually, "it's good for the mind and body."

"Happy Christmas Eve," Dudley called out from behind Harry, startling the young wizard slightly causing Harry to cough on his water.

"Happy..." He gave another small cough, nodding that he was alright as Snape watched him closely, "Christmas Eve."

"M'Sorry, Harry," Dudley quickly said, sitting down at the last place setting, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"S'ok, I'm alright," the Gryffindor reassured the other boy, then turned to Snape, "How is Dr. Swanson getting here?"

"Ah," Snape said animatedly, "she will not be administering your treatment today nor tomorrow. It will be Madam Pomfrey."

Harry didn't have to ask why; he knew it was for his and her own safety. While she wouldn't be able to say the location of the cottage as she wasn't the Secret Keeper, it was still risky to give a muggle that kind of information. It was probably for the best anyway, he much preferred the medi-witch over his doctor.

"What do you have this morning?" Dudley asked with a mouthful of toast.

"Erm, I think an IT and 2 hour IV," Harry replied. He looked towards Snape a little concerned, "can Madam Pomfrey do the IT alone?"

The Gryffindor vaguely remembered Healer Smithe walking the matron through the IT procedure, but going through the steps with a knowledgeable Healer next to her and doing it on her own was a big difference. He tried not to think of the consequences, that if she missed, she could damage his spinal cord. Now that he was going through the logistics in his head, maybe he would prefer Dr. Swanson after all.

His nerves didn't ease up after breakfast or when the medi-witch finally arrived with Professor McGonagall in tow who would be spending Christmas Eve and Christmas day with them. In addition to his medication, the two witches brought with them four small boxes which once enlarged contained various Christmas decorations for their tree. Since space in Shell Cottage was at a premium - including it's short ceiling, but it was something that actually calmed Harry's nerves as he always found the expansiveness of Grimmauld Place anxiety-inducing - the tree was short and narrow. It sat in the far corner of the sitting room near the window looking out on the front garden, where Harry guessed one could see it from the front door.

"We'll decorate the tree after dinner," Snape tucked the boxes underneath the the tree that was already filled with the brightly wrapped gifts that were ready to either exchange among each other or would be going back to Hogwarts with Madam Pomfrey to be mailed out from the owlery that afternoon.

"Actually," Harry spoke up, "it might be better to start this morning. These medications tend to hit me later in the day."

As when he was getting the IT done back home, the sofa was transfigured into an exam table where Harry nervously laid. The fact that he only had IT once a month was definitely one of the parts that made this phase easier - besides the extra three days between treatments - but it meant that he was more nervous during the procedure. He found himself shaking more than usual which was not at all helping Madam Pomfrey confidently do the procedure for the first time alone. It eventually took both Snape and McGonagall to hold the young wizard completely still.

With only two hours of the IV, Madam Pomfrey was going to wait with them instead of going back to Hogwarts and having to turn right around. She was sitting on the sofa, which had been converted back, with Harry as Snape set up the wireless that came in one of the boxes from Hogwarts, and tuned it into a station playing wizarding Christmas music, none of which Harry actually knew.

Feeling antsy with everyone sitting around the small sitting room, Harry pulled his IV stand along with him, and opened a second box from Madam Pomfrey full of garland and ornaments and started to decorate the Christmas tree. Dudley followed suit less than a minute later, and Harry gave a small smile at the normalcy of the act between them. So much had happened this year that if the young Gryffindor thought too much about it, it would completely overwhelm him. He couldn't be any further from where he was this time last year when he'd spent the Holiday with Sirius and the Weasley's at Grimmauld Place. All the people were different now and Shell Cottage was the antithesis of Grimmauld Place; small, bright, and relaxing instead of big, dark, and a bit menacing. How could one event - two if he counted Snape's change of realities - cause such a chain of events for him to end up putting Christmas decorations on a tree with Dudley and Snape, McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey all enjoying the Christmas cheer.

Somewhere within their impromptu celebration, drawing away attention from his chemotherapy, Harry found himself missing the people who were missing: Sirius, Ron, Hermione, the Weasley's, Remus, even Draco if he was being completely honest with himself. For the last six years he'd been surrounded by friends, who were his substitute family, and now it seemed they'd all gone their separate ways. Harry didn't even know if Hermione was at the Burrow for Christmas this year - he had forgotten to ask either of them - and tonight was a full-moon spotlighting the reason why Harry could never fully depend on Remus no matter how much at one point he had wanted to.

They finished decorating the Christmas tree about a half hour before his chemotherapy was completed, and Harry spent the remainder of the time laying on the sofa admiring their work. The tree tips were covered in frost, giving the impression it had been freshly cut from somewhere near Hogwarts though Harry knew it was an enchantment that created the sparkling effect. Rather than the multi-colored fake stands of lights he would have seen Aunt Petunia cover the tree back at Privet Drive in, they used tiny candles that would safely stay lit - he had to reassure Dudley of this fact - and the young wizard couldn't wait to see their soft glow flickering across the walls and ceiling when night was finally upon them. Holly vines with small berries had been used in place of the gaudy plastic garland he'd too often seen on muggle Christmas trees in the past giving a nice contrasting red against the deep green of the tree. The ornaments were different too. Rather than the brightly colored spheres Dudley would have been accustomed to, there was a set of wooden shapes and animals that they hung by twine. Each figure was painted and Harry wasn't sure if it had been done by hand or magic. His favorite of them all were the big golden stars that reflected the lights from the candles and shimmered around the tree. It wasn't anywhere near as flashy as the muggle equivalent, but it was far more relaxing to sit and watch.

Between the tree, the candle filled wreaths that were brought from the castle and placed around the room, an enchanted gingerbread house sitting on the table in front of the sofa with a small gingerbread family walking around the frosting lawn, and the joyful Christmas music playing from the wireless, Harry had almost forgotten about his chemotherapy until he ended up sick and occupying their only lavatory. Snape assisted him throughout the day, as the professor always did, and while Harry had every reason to feel gloomy about abruptly excusing himself from the festivities, the pure happiness surrounding him made it impossible to be anything but happy.

Sometime after lunch - which Harry did not sit at the table for - the Gryffindor had decided to go out and sit on the back porch overlooking the beach with every intention of watching the sunset. He was taken by surprise when he managed to fall asleep in the deceivingly comfortable chair, wrapped in his red blanket, listening to the constant ebb and flow of the sea that had gently rocked him to sleep. He awoke to a fuzzy darkness surrounding him with the lanterns hanging along the railing casting an orange glow. Harry startled when there was movement from the chair next to his own.

"Hey, mate," he didn't need the light of the sun or his glasses to recognize the voice as Ron's.

"What're you doing here?" Harry asked sitting up and grabbing his glasses from the table between the two wizards.

"I asked Mum if we could come see you for Christmas and she brought us over." The red head explained. "I think 'Mione's inside baking with Ginny and Mum, and Dad's deep in conversation with Dudley. I have a feeling they're going to be at it for a while. I figured I'd come out and enjoy the quiet."

Harry gave his friend a warm smile. It had been far too long since just the two of them had any real time together. Ron had been spending a lot of his free time with Lavender and he'd guessed that was normal for a sixteen year old with his first girlfriend. Of course, he didn't have any experience - either of his own nor from any adults - Snape wasn't exactly the warm and fuzzy type to ask questions about girls or about a friend with his first girlfriend.

_I wonder if we talked about that kind of stuff in his old reality?_

It was a very logical question to ask. Each day their relationship was growing and changing, he found himself getting more curious about their other life together; especially after seeing the professor's memories during the Occlumency attack.

The two best friends continued to sit outside on the porch talking like none of their many challenges had happened between them this year. Ron filled Harry in on the ins and outs of life this year in the tower and about how Quidditch practices were going; apparently while Katie was a nicer captain than Oliver or Angelina, he thought she was a bit too nice and it would be a tougher year for all of them because of it. Ron asked if he'd be able to play next year and Harry had no clue. Theoretically, by maintenance phase he would technically only have chemotherapy once a month, except now that he and Snape were talking about how to handle his magic, if things went well, he probably wouldn't be at Hogwarts next year. Not wanting to ruin their great mood, he just told the other Gryffindor that given how new all this was, he was taking everything month-by-month. It wasn't a complete lie, at least that's what he justified to himself.

They had no idea how much time passed - it could have been fifteen minutes or an hour - before Hermione walked out with three plates of food floating in front of her. Being at school this whole time, Harry had forgotten that the witch was already seventeen and could do magic outside of school.

"Now you're just showing off," Ron complained, grabbing two of the plates - the largest and the smallest - handing the smaller one to Harry.

"Hey," Harry added while pushing the food around his plate, "I'm like the last one in our whole year to turn seventeen, and by then I won't even have any magic to use yet, so you have zero room to complain."

The three friends started laughing, at what Harry wasn't sure. He found that the more he talked about his choice to deplete his top core in an effort to preserve the block and the magic below it, the better he felt about the whole thing. It was temporary, so if the cancer or getting rid of the soul fragment didn't kill him, he would eventually be able to enter the magical world again and that was a comforting thought.

"I'm not showing off, Ronald," the bushy haired witch said. "You would have done it the same way."

Elbowing Harry's chair, Ron said, "I know who's gonna be doing us favors from now on."

Again, the three teens started laughing. What started out as a day of chemotherapy and tree decorating had quickly turned into a full-blown Christmas party. His plate had a very small serving of roasted turkey, boiled potatoes, and peas compared to his two friends' that not only had larger servings but added glazed carrots, buttered rolls, and cranberry sauce. It all smelled delicious and Harry could just imagine what Mrs. Weasley went through to make it - deciding it probably wasn't Snape that had made this huge meal - but his stomach was still cramping from the chemotherapy, so he just nibbled here and there.

The trio were interrupted by the sound of cannons coming from inside the cottage, followed shortly by Dudley running from the house wearing a neon-colored clown's hat.

"Have you guys seen these?!"

Harry shook his head at the sight of his cousin's full embrace on wizarding traditions, such as their Christmas Crackers. Uncle Vernon would have immediately turned his customary ugly puce color at just the thought of Dudley spending Christmas in a full wizarding house that was hidden from both muggles and wizards alike.

This time Harry wasn't so lucky, and after they all calmed down from laughing at Dudley's newest wardrobe additions, he got up from his chair - missing the concerned look from his friends - and ran into the house, straight to the lavatory. Having nothing in his stomach besides the measly bites of turkey and potatoes, most of what came up was bile followed by dry heaving, but that didn't make the episode any less unpleasant. The young wizard leaned back against the wall and drew his knees up to his chest, before resting his forehead on his knees. Lost in his thoughts, Harry didn't hear the knock on the door.

"Harry?"

Snape very carefully opened the door, then satisfied that he would not hit the Gryffindor in the tiny lavatory, opened it the rest of the way. Harry heard the sounds of the party coming through the door for however long it took the man to walk through before promptly closing it behind him.

"Are you alright?" The professor draped Harry's red blanket around his shoulders in the same way he always did, and then kneeled down to Harry's level on the floor.

"Delightful."

Furrowing his brows, Snape didn't have to say another word about it.

"I'll be fine," Harry eventually claimed, but they both knew he was lying. "Just give me a minute, ok?"

"Of course," Snape said, "take your time."

As efficiently as the former spy had entered the lavatory, he'd left. At this point, they both knew the drill. It took Harry ten minutes and another round of vomiting before he emerged from the lavatory into the bustling cottage. Given its small size, Harry could easily see or hear everyone from his vantage point. Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, and Mrs. Weasley were all around the sitting room talking about something Harry couldn't hear over the loud conversations from all different directions. Snape looked as if he were, at some point, part of their group, but instead was watching Harry, trying to decide where to go next. Mr. Weasley, the twins, and Ginny were in the tiny dining room and while Harry couldn't see them, he could hear the rambunctious laughter of Fred or George above anything else coming from that direction. The door to his right, that led back out to the back porch, opened and in walked Ron, Dudley, and Hermione. The Gryffindor witch wrapped her arm around Harry's shoulders and walked with him into the sitting room with a soft, "come on, Harry," while the other two teens brought their plates to the kitchen.

Upon seeing Harry awake for the first time that night, Mrs. Weasley gave him a big hug, the kind that reminded him of the time at the hospital wing after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, and gestured him to the sofa to lay down. He could feel her own grief over the first Christmas without one of her children and through the hug, she tried to relieve him of his own guilt from his role in that situation.

Never did he think that this many people would fit in the cottage, but he was filled with elation and gratitude to be surrounded by them all. For a kid that grew up as an orphan in a neglectful - at best - and abusive - at worst - family, he really was lucky to have so many different people there for him now.

He fell in and out of sleep throughout the rest of the night, completely oblivious to the noises around him, until Hermione woke him up to tell him that Mr. and Mrs Weasley, the twins, and Ginny were going back to the Burrow, leaving Ron and Hermione there with Harry that night. He hadn't quite thought about the sleeping arrangements until Snape offered for him to sleep on the sofa, allowing him to be closer to the lavatory, and leaving his room for Hermione. McGonagall transfigured a camp bed for Ron in the sitting room before going back to Hogwarts, promising to return with Madam Pomfrey in the morning. The trio of Gryffindors stayed up in the glow of the Christmas tree, but to Harry it had felt like an absolutely long day and he was ready for it to end. He didn't make it long after Ron's story of receiving a sweetheart necklace from Lavender, which ended up giving Harry a good laugh to end an overall good day.

~~~~SS~~~~

**_Wednesday 25, December 1996_ **

Severus hadn't expected yesterday to turn into a full Christmas Party when Molly asked if they could stop by to see Harry. At that point, the Gryffindor had been fast asleep on the back porch after spending most of the late morning and afternoon feeling ill from his treatment and he had thought they would maybe stay until he'd woken up. What he'd gotten instead was enough food to feed all the students who stayed at Hogwarts, and a cottage full of red-headed Weasleys. Since the cottage was technically theirs, he was proud of himself for not making too much of a fuss over it. At the end of the day, all that mattered to him was that Harry was happy. Even though he disagreed with Harry's idea to decorate the tree yesterday morning, he could admit that the act seemed to lift the young wizard's spirit from his holiday treatments and at least before the medications caught up to him, Harry seemed to have a good start to Christmas. While the day was far busier than he'd wanted, it ended up being everything he'd wanted for Harry and he was filled with warmth as he heard the three Gryffindors laughing long after he'd gone to bed.

Today, Christmas Day, he had nothing planned for them to do outside of the Christmas gifts he had and an extremely light Christmas dinner. Mrs. Weasley was coming over early to collect Ron and Hermione to celebrate back at the Burrow, and then Minerva and Poppy would be over again for Harry's treatment. In an effort to keep Harry's mood light for the day, he'd also invited Lupin and Tonks - who apparently had been helping the werewolf after his monthly transformations - but with the full-moon only last night, he wasn't sure how the man would feel today.

It was still dark when he went down the stairs on his way to start breakfast, being as quiet as possible, trying not to wake the two boys he still expected to be sleeping in the sitting room. He was surprised to find that while Ronald Weasley was completely passed out on the camp bed, loudly snoring and he was sure drooling, Harry was nowhere to be seen. A short walk to the lavatory yielded no success and neither did peeking his head out the back door to see if he were outside. The last place to check in the tiny downstairs, was the kitchen.

As a former spy, still honed in his unique observation skills, he should have been more aware of the noises coming from the kitchen, along with the smell of tea as he approached the doorway. Being as careful as possible, he opened the door, but it didn't stop the loud creak from the old wooden frame, startling the young wizard and causing him to drop the tea cup he'd been carrying.

"Shite," Harry whispered as the cup shattered to the floor at his bare feet.

With a wave of his wand, Severus had the cup cleaned up and back on the table, ready for more tea.

"You're up rather early," he said to the teen, "especially after being up so late last night."

Harry shuffled his feet, "Yeah… well, I slept a lot during the day yesterday… and I just woke up."

The way Harry said it, the professor questioned to himself if the young wizard had issues sleeping after chemotherapy. He'd certainly not mentioned anything previously, however knowing _this Harry_ as well as he did now, that probably meant he was having a more difficult time sleeping than he let on. Tabling the observation for later, he looked out one of the panoramic windows and caught sight of the sky's first changes into the dawn hour.

"Let's go sit outside and watch the sunrise," Severus suggested taking two cups of tea and gesturing for Harry to follow him.

While the sun wouldn't actually rise over the sea from their location, it was still a breathtaking sight to watch the sky change from indigo, to lavender, as the stars began to fade. It would be a perfect way for the two of them to start Christmas together.

They sat next to each other, with the small table between them holding their tea. Harry was wrapped in his red blanket, a heating charm non-verbally placed upon it, and his winter hat covering his head to help keep the cold air away from his fragile body. The last thing either of them needed was for the young wizard to get sick again. Severus knew it was bound to happen, but if they could get into the next phase, Harry would be using his magic again and they'd be able to use potions to combat anything that may try to bring him down. After that, he'd be in Maintenance Phase and most of their worries would be behind them; at least that's what they're told. In reality, it would be far too long before either of them could breathe easy knowing the cancer was far behind them.

"Did you go skiing?" Harry asked after swallowing a sip of his tea, "with my mum and her family?"

He knew the question was bound to come up - they hadn't talked about it after all - nevertheless, it caught him off guard.

"Yes I did," the professor answered, "I was absolutely awful at the sport, but we had a good time. It was one of my favorite Christmases until the adoption."

"I didn't realize you were that close to be invited to go with her on holiday."

He could hear the sorrow in the young Gryffindor's voice. It was no secret that they'd both grown up in too similar of households, but Harry was technically not allowed to leave his relatives' home; at least not until Severus had gotten involved. He couldn't just go to Borrow the minute Molly invited him, and even when he did go, in the back of his young mind he'd know he was putting the caring family in danger.

"You mother and I were best friends," Severus reiterated the fact he knew he'd told the child many times already, as if that explained everything. In reality, that's what he'd told himself when he didn't want to admit his own feelings about Lily.

The two of them sat out there in the cold, as a warm silence fell upon them.

"Happy Christmas, Severus," Harry pulled out an envelope and handed it to the man next to him, "I wanted to give you my gift before chemo or anyone else got here."

Holding the large muggle-like envelope in his hands, Severus turned it over several times. It was sealed in the back, so he slipped his finger under the seal and broke it open. His heart was racing as he pulled out the first of two thick papers within the envelope. It was white, and turning it over he was greeted by a sketch of Harry and himself standing at the edge of a beach. It was the picture he'd seen glimpses of periodically back home as Harry had been creating it. The scene was drawn from behind, Severus easily identified by his long black hair and Harry by his own mop of black hair sticking up in all directions. Both wizards had their trousers rolled up to their knees as they stood in the ankle deep water looking out at the sun setting on the horizon. Severus had his arm casually draped over Harry's shoulders. The entire picture was so detailed, it could have been a picture of the two of them there at Shell Cottage.

Placing the picture down in his lap, holding it so the wind dared not take it away from him, he let go of a shaky breath and pulled out the other paper. This one was a thick photograph material, but it was completely blank. Turning it over in his hands, the back was blank too. He gave Harry a look of confusion.

"Point your wand at it," Harry said, encouraging Snape to draw his ebony wand, "and say, 'Asphodel and Wormwood'."

The meaning of those two words wasn't lost on the professor no matter how distracted he was by the previous gift and this mysterious one in his hands. It didn't matter that he'd given himself plenty of time to prepare because he could not have prepared himself for this. Tapping his wand on the thick paper, he said the two words that would forever be ingrained in his mind. Slowly, a picture started to form across the page. At first it was hard to ascertain what it was since there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the pattern at which it appeared, but after about thirty seconds the nature of it was obvious and it both hurt and warmed him inside.

It was a picture - a true wizarding, moving picture - of himself and Harry from the memory they'd seen of decorating their Christmas tree. All the details were there, from the two steaming cups of hot chocolate, to the tall bookcases surrounding them in the sitting room at their home on Spinner's End that _this Harry_ wouldn't know anything about, and last, but definitely not least, the two of them, father and son. It was played in a loop where Severus tossing an ornament back into the box, then sat next to his son picking up his own cup of hot chocolate. He then reached over and started messing up Harry's already messy black hair before they settled next to each other and it started all over again.

"Thank you," he managed to choke out from his frozen voice. "How did you…"

Harry gave a small smile which was easily seen now that the golden rays of the sun had started to fill the sky.

"Colin Creevey owes me a dozen favors," he replied, "or more like he'd do a dozen favors for me. Either way, I asked if it was possible to develop a picture from a memory and he put me in touch with someone, who I made sure used the utmost discretion when creating it. Hermione helped with the charm. To hide it, you point your wand, and say 'Skiing'."

It was done exactly as James' map, but Severus didn't care one bit. Now, he had at least one piece of his old life that he could see, and while it didn't fill the aching gap in his soul, he didn't find himself looking over at the teen across from him and wishing he were _his Harry_. They were two very different boys and he loved them both in their own unique ways.

He was speechless, which was highly abnormal for him, so instead of words, he used his wand to summon his own gift to the Gryffindor.

He had a difficult time deciding what to get the young wizard, something he did not struggle with in his old reality. He'd finally settled on the one thing he could give to Harry that no one else could possibly give the child. It had been risky to go back to Spinner's End when so many Death Eaters in this reality knew of its location. None of them would be able to get past the highly advanced wards, however that only protected him once he entered the dilapidated structure. Figuring it had been long enough since his defection from the Dark Lord to no longer necessitate a constant watch in his old home, he took the risk and went there earlier this month.

He was filled with such an odd feeling when he walked into his counterpart's home, the same walls and structure that when he personally last left it, it was filled with the life he and Harry had built together. This house at Spinner's End had never seen the vibrant energy from the Gryffindor living there and its state of disrepair was evidence of the occupant's sad and lonely life. He lived in complete solitude after simply erasing all evidence of his mother and father's presence, and the rest of the home was left as it had been, with a notable exception to the converted Potion's laboratory - with an aura around it of the nefarious potions that had been created there for the Dark Lord - and the sitting room, which had been updated with texts more relevant to his current lifestyle.

In his old reality, what he was looking for would have been stored in his wardrobe in the bedroom he'd taken over from his parents, yet somehow he guessed the Severus here would not have moved them from their original location. Therefore, he'd gone straight to his old bedroom - Harry's bedroom where he was from - and pulled up the loose floorboard to reveal the box of all the things he'd treasured as a child. Most of them had to do with Lily, and what he was actually there to get, but there were other things that hurt just as much to remember; like the time his mother was actually proud of him for his perfect completion of the Draught of the Living Death back in his sixth year. He had been astonished to receive her letter of praise after she'd "heard through the floo" that he was the only student to ever have completed such a task. Pushing that aside, he collected what he'd come for and went back to Hogwarts trying not to wonder if he'd ever get to bring Harry back here and make it their home again.

Now, sitting back on the porch with Poppy and Minerva set to arrive in only a half hour, he handed the green - but not Slytherin green - wrapped box to the young wizard feeling more vulnerable than he had any other time since July. It was illogical, he knew, because there was no way Harry _wouldn't_ appreciate what he was about to receive, but vulnerability was never logical. As the lid was opened, the professor was watching those emerald eyes hoping to find some kind of indication that he had been on the right path when choosing what to get him, and he was rewarded with the pure look of hope, mixed with a touch of grief, within them.

Harry picked up the various muggle pictures of Lily throughout her childhood, from the age of nine decorating cookies at Christmas time, to the age of thirteen standing in front of the beach in Aberdaron with her parents - Harry's grandparents that he was sure the young wizard had never seen before. There were various pictures of her in her school robes taken in the corridors between classes or out by the black lake, and one of her at her on her wedding day he only had because Mrs. Evans had sent it to him. All of these lead up to the one at the bottom of the pile that he'd practically forgotten about until he, himself, had gotten to the bottom of his own box. It was the only picture that had been crumbled from his rage when he'd received it, and today he was embarrassed that the lines could still easily be seen in the duplicate he'd made for the young wizard. It was a picture of Lily, looking more radiant than ever, holding a small bundle wrapped in a blue blanket from the day of Harry's birth. He had been surprised when he received it along with a personalized handwritten note to him announcing the birth of her son, Harry James Potter. He'd never responded to her; the pain had still been too fresh in his mind, and he always assumed he would have plenty of time to make amends. That time ran out far too soon.

"Are these yours?" Harry asked, unsure of himself. "I can't…"

"They're all duplicates," he reassured the young wizard, "these are now yours."

The Gryffindor couldn't remove his eyes from the box of plentiful pictures, "Thank you, Severus."

"Happy Christmas, Harry," the professor said, reaching his hand over and placing it on the young wizard's forearm. They sat in a companionable silence between them as the light continued to grow across the beach. Neither wizard wanted to move, knowing that the other residents inside the cottage were likely already up and lively and that meant they would need to rejoin the rest of the world. If only they could stay there, on the porch at Shell Cottage, and completely forget about everything else they had going on; like the Dark Lord, Horcruxes, and starting the second day of this latest round of chemotherapy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Storm
> 
> I thought it was about time we had a bit of a fluffy chapter with all the angst going on, and before we start into the next section of the story.


	55. The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really considered waiting to post this one just to hold onto the fluffy Christmas chapter a little larger, but be it had to come at some point. Here's the official spring into the next section of the story. Thank you to all my reviewers, you all are awesome!

~~~~HP~~~~

**_Tuesday 31, December 1996_ **

Christmas had ended up being the absolute best one Harry had ever had in the life he could remember - having decided he couldn't count the single Christmas he had with his parents. Most of the day had been spent much in the same way as Christmas Eve had been, trying unsuccessfully to sleep off the effects of the chemotherapy, but there was something about the atmosphere that helped put him in a good mood regardless. The remainder of the week flew by as Harry, Snape, and Dudley fell into a routine of: breakfast by nine, school work while sitting out on the back porch listening to the waves, helping Snape prepare lunch, hanging out with Dudley on the beach until the sun set around dinner time when they'd head back and help Snape with dinner. Each night at the cottage had been filled with a different activity, chess tournament between the three residents which in hindsight didn't really seem all too fair, school lessons for Harry and planning for Dudley, and one night of Occlumency, which was thankfully much more successful than the last time. Snape had taught him how to store away the things he doesn't want the attacker to access and once they were back at school, they'd move onto what to do during an attack. The Gryffindor wasn't exactly looking forward to that, but he knew that it was ultimately necessary if he was ever going to be able to block out Voldemort for good.

With the Christmas holiday now behind them, Harry wasn't quite sure if he was ready to face the second half of the school year and whatever phase three would bring at the end of this month. He'd been taking this year and his cancer treatments in small sections so he wouldn't feel overwhelmed with the entire process, however he couldn't ignore the fact that each new milestone brought with it its own concerns. He'd yet to do one phase without anything going wrong - the Privet Drive attack from Intensive/Induction Phase, his bout with pneumonia and the visions in the first phase of Consolidation, the feeding tube along with his the mental battles he'd been facing for phase two of Consolidation - now the unknown of what could be coming up in phase three was plaguing his mind almost nightly. If only they could stay here at Shell Cottage, maybe things wouldn't seem so daunting. Snape had already hinted that phase three would be another difficult one, but what could that exactly entail and could it be any worse than what he'd already faced?

"Be careful with that knife," Snape interrupted the young wizard's thoughts as he was slicing the cucumbers for their salad to have with dinner that night. Harry thought the man seemed a little off overall today, and the random reminder not to cut his fingers off played right into that observation.

"I do know how to slice things, y'know," Harry answered over his shoulder to the professor, acting highly insulted.

"You seem to forget that I've watched you slice potion's ingredients for five whole years," the man replied, "technically eleven years if you count-" he looked over to Dudley setting the table, " -you know."

"Well that's not fair," Harry bellowed, "I was under duress during those classes."

He questioned, to himself, if that was really true given the fact that Snape alluded to his other self having a difficult time preparing his ingredients as well. It was definitely an interesting statement that he would ponder later, but the sentiment was not lost on him as he narrowed his eyes in jest at the professor.

"Are the Weasley's coming over?" Harry asked, more in an effort to change the subject than genuine curiosity as he already knew they would be there. As an investor of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, Fred and George had wanted to - no, they demanded to - demonstrate their latest set of fireworks to ring in the New Year out on the beach. All Harry knew about it was that it had something to do with sounds of some sort, which would prove to be an interesting way to start 1997.

"They'll be coming in around seven," Snape commented rather flatly, moving their roasted chicken to the table.

"I've heard they have these huge fireworks that explode in full pictures," Dudley added, sounding completely flabbergasted with the capability of the twins. Harry forgot that sometimes he took for granted the things the two of them could come up with. Combined with magic, anything was really possible to the Weasley twins. "Supposedly they have noises and smells to go with them."

 _This should be an awesome night,_ Harry thought to himself. The three residents took their seats at the dinner table and started plating their food.

"I don't doubt that for a second," Snape added without any animosity. "They have a decent future ahead of them as long as they can stay focused enough."

Harry dropped his fork with a loud _clang_ when it hit his plate. Now he knew something was seriously wrong with Snape. His eyes went wide as he asked astonishedly, "Was that a compliment? To Fred and George? Weasley? Are you feeling alright, sir?"

"Yes, that it was," Snape actually laughed at Harry's reaction to his blatant compliment. "Now that I no longer have to teach them, and I thank Merlin for that every single day, I can admit they have a real talent for their chosen profession. You'll do best to remember that in order to do what they do, they need to be extremely well-versed in potions, otherwise they most likely would have poisoned someone by now. Every-so-often they've reached out to ask my professional opinion in one of their formulations and so far they've had it all more or less correct."

"More or less?" Harry asked skeptically, squinting his eyes at that.

"Well," Snape smirked, "I may have a professional obligation not to knowingly let them kill someone, nonetheless, nowhere does it say I can't allow some less-than-pleasant side effects to pass."

Both Harry and Dudley started laughing uncontrollably. In Harry's head, he was remembering the uncomfortable boils from their testing of the Fever Fudge last year and the possibility that Snape may have known that would happen was just too much. It was like his whole mentality of even the _old Snape_ had shifted for just a moment. Harry had to know more.

"You mean, you give them advice now, or back when they were still at school?"

"Both," the professor casually answered, "the absolute last thing Hogwarts needed was two students selling something that could kill them or their fellow classmates. They asked, I answered under the unspoken rule that under no circumstances would their products unknowingly make their way into my possession."

"That's completely brilliant," Harry said, wanting to ask if any had knowingly made their way to the professor.

"From what I hear," Snape continued, preventing Harry from asking any other follow-up questions, "you're not so innocent to their endeavor either. In fact, dare I say they have you to thank for it?"

Harry's face started to flush. He didn't think anyone else would know about that.

"What?" Dudley chimed in confused and a bit excited that his cousin would have his hand in something so devious.

"Your cousin gave his winnings from the Triwizard Tournament to them," Snape had a hint of pride in his voice that Harry did not fail to notice.

The young wizard stopped laughing at the thought of the damn Tournament. The mourning from that event still sometimes caught him off guard, "How did you know about that?"

The professor considered the question and said, "One of their recipes had a rather expensive ingredient and I refused to weigh in on their rate of the formula's success until they told me how they'd be procuring it."

The Gryffindor closed his eyes, deep in thought over something he'd just considered. Had the twins been able to open their shop in Snape's old reality if he hadn't completed - in no way was claiming to have _won_ it - the Triwizard Tournament? With Dudley sitting at the table with them, he couldn't just ask the man about it. Determination happened to be something he was very good at, so it only took him a minute to come up with a solid way to get the information.

"Do you think Fred and George would have been able to get their shop up and running if I hadn't finished the tournament?" He asked nonchalantly, knowing the former spy would pick up what he was saying.

"They're smart and resourceful boys," Snape said, without missing a beat, "I'm positive they would have found an investor, it may have taken a little longer though."

Ha! He felt proud of himself for his mediocre stealthy plan and its success. He was also relieved to hear they had been, to a certain extent, the same Fred and George. It was hard, and more than a little sad, to think of a world without Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in it. Fred and George gave them all a reason to laugh during these hard times of war and the world needed people like them in it.

As Snape had said, the Weasley's - along with Hermione, Remus, Tonks, and Fleur - all showed up promptly at seven o'clock bringing with them a wide assortment of desserts, pastries, butterbeer, wine, and alcohol. Snape gave Harry a stern look, making it clear that the young wizard was not to partake in any of the drinks outside of regular old pumpkin juice.

"Happy New Year's, Harry," Remus said, entering the cottage. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to stop on Christmas, but thank you so much for the drawing. Did you do it yourself?"

Harry nodded. For Christmas, he had sketched a picture of Remus, Sirius, and his dad based on piecing together pictures he'd seen of the three of them, plus his own memory of Sirius. He had drawn the three friends, as they would have been today if his dad and Sirius were still alive, standing out by the black lake with Hogwarts in the background. He'd made them all look completely carefree, which couldn't be any further from the truth. It had been a difficult one to sketch because he would have loved to know what growing up would have been like with his dad and his two "uncles"; one of whom was his Godfather.

"You're very talented, much like your mother," Remus said with a smile, his brown kind eyes meeting Harry's emerald ones, "It was a lovely gift and it means a lot to me."

"You're welcome," Harry started to flush. "And I understand why you couldn't be here. Are you feeling alright now?"

"Oh yes," he said. Tonks came up behind him, her hair an odd purplish colour, and she wrapped her arm around Remus's, "by now I'm feeling much better. You're also looking well."

Again, Harry nodded wondering how someone who was his father and Godfather's best friend could sometimes feel like a total stranger. Maybe if Remus hadn't hid himself away so quickly after the events of his third year, it wouldn't feel so awkward between them. The young Gryffindor watched closely as his former professor continued into the cottage and greeted Snape with courtesy that the Snape he knew would never return. This Snape, though, sounded like he was asking Remus about his latest Wolfsbane dosage and the two men seemed to have a completely civil conversation. The young wizard thought it was amazing what a difference his presence had made in the professor's life; turning the dour man into someone more honorable and definitely more likable.

Once everyone was crammed into the cottage, Harry sought out Ron, Hermione, and Dudley. The four teens - all of them with a bottle of butterbeer in their hands except Harry - made their way back to the porch where they were watching the twins set up on the beach below them. It seemed like only yesterday they'd been in this same position on Christmas Eve and suddenly Harry thought the end of the holiday was approaching far too quickly for his liking.

"Have you heard from Draco at all?" Harry found himself asking Hermione when they'd made it through all the other topics of interest.

The Gryffindor witch blushed at her boyfriend's name. To Harry, they seemed like more of a normal couple than Ron and Lavender, and yet here she was almost too nervous to talk about it.

"Yes, I have actually," Hermione tentatively answered. "He didn't say much of anything really, but I think he's having a rough holiday."

That didn't shock Harry in the slightest. If he had Voldemort living in his house, it'd be a rough holiday for him too. He just hoped that being surrounded by Death Eaters and his father for about a fortnight wouldn't cause the Slytherin to sway back to the other side. Harry had already been thinking that Snape really shouldn't have let Draco return home, and that had more to do with Lucius's random return than Voldemort being there. As a spy, Harry understood that the blonde was expected to provide information - to both sides - however it wouldn't do them any good if Draco swapped sides on them midwar. He shivered thinking of all the things Draco could report on Harry and the Order that would be detrimental to their side. It would be worth mentioning again to Snape before they went back to school, but it couldn't be with Hermione at the cottage. He refused to put his friend in the position of having to choose between her friends and her boyfriend.

"Don't think about it, Harry," Hermione warned, her eyes giving away her impatience with him. "I know that look. He is not going to betray us. You'll have to trust me on this one."

She didn't exactly know that, plus Harry didn't think she could be impartial while dating the other teen, but he didn't comment. He wasn't going to get involved between the two of them and he had asked the question first after all.

"I'm not thinking that," was all he said. He could admit that based on where he was in life right now, he couldn't begin to even guess about what had transpired between the couple to cause her to so vehemently trust the Malfoy heir, but Harry trusted her… and he had learned to trust Draco, though he may still need to remind himself of that fact every now and then.

From their spot on the porch, Harry could see the others filing out of the cottage and down to the beach. It must be time for the twins spectacular firework display - almost Fred's exact words to him when they planned this whole thing.

Gesturing to the people walking away from them, Ron gently tapped Harry's arm and said, "Let's go down to the beach, mate."

It couldn't have come at a better time as he felt the dynamic change drastically between himself and Hermione. Harry really had no idea where this consternation was coming from within him, but it was as if he just knew something was coming and he was powerless to stop it. As he walked down to the beach dressed in his new warm jumper he'd gotten from Mrs. Weasley for Christmas, soft warm hat, and his red blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulder, he fell a full stride behind his friends and cousin, lost deep within his own thoughts. The more he continued down that path of thinking, it made sense. He was probably picking up on the fact that he was uncomfortable with the change in Hermione. She had really been the only one - besides Snape, but that was completely different - who had been by his side throughout all of this. What would happen if Draco's loyalties changed and she went with him? As if he didn't have enough to think about with cancer, an evil soul fragment within his own, his magic, he now had to think about Hermione being turned against him.

"Harry!"

He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the terrified voice of Snape calling out to him. He immediately brandished his wand when a hand - one he most definitely should have recognized by now - was placed on his shoulder and turned him around.

"Hold it," the professor said watching Harry's wand carefully, "are you alright?"

Why wouldn't he be alright? The concern he was able to see, even in the soft glow of the floating lanterns around them, from Snape's eyes put the young wizard in a state of alarm. Over the professor's shoulder, he saw the other twelve people watching them intently. Turning to his right, he was standing next to the ocean, proof that he had been walking parallel down the beach before Snape had stopped him. When had he passed them all? The last place he remembered being was walking towards the ocean.

"What happened?" The fear was evident in his voice no matter how hard he had tried to keep it at bay.

"You were about to leave the wards," Snape explained. Harry turned back around towards the direction he'd been walking and saw he was less than a meter away from the permanent red line Snape had drawn around the property to tell them where the wards ended. While he couldn't be one hundred percent sure, he had a feeling it would be extremely dangerous for him to cross that line. "Why don't you go and sit down?"

Something was definitely wrong. Harry didn't want to ruin the festivities by making a big deal about it, especially if it ended up that he was just being paranoid and it was only his lack of focus and bad memory lately. He walked through the cold sand and around the giant fire he had somehow managed to walk right past without any memory or knowledge of it. There were twelve chairs surrounding the fire that was dancing with streaks of blue, purple, and green alongside its normal orange and yellow flames. The only two open seats left - for him and Snape - were next to Mrs. Weasley on the closer end or by Ron, Hermione, and Dudley on the far end. He walked between the fire and the ocean, close to where Fred and George were setting up their firework show, in an effort to hide his mistake from the view of the group. In the long walk to his chair, he recognized just how far away he had been from where he was originally headed, signifying how much time he'd lost. Ignoring Hermione's always worried eyes, at least when something like this happened, he took his place between his cousin and the Gryffindor witch.

"Everything alright, Harry?" Dudley asked.

"I just wasn't paying attention," he claimed. It wasn't necessarily a lie because he really hadn't been paying attention. He'd been lost in his thoughts about what was going on with Malfoy - no, Draco. "It's nothing to worry about, sometimes I have a hard time focusing. It's the chemotherapy." He reassured the group, all of whom had no way of knowing exactly how toxic the medications he'd been taking were to his body.

The fire in front of him was mesmerizing and he could feel the warmth hitting him deep in his bones. There was no way that this was a muggle fire; the warmth was too engulfing not tohave some kind of enchantment upon it. The young wizard found himself moving closer to it, trying to push out that last bit of chill that always seemed to return to his bones, even when wrapped in his red blanket. The blanket had been a constant source of both warmth and comfort these last four months and yet now it did nothing to erase the sense of dread within him and the bitter cold - almost aching more than usual - he had throughout his body.

"-gave me the night off," he heard Tonks say to Ron with a nervous laugh, but he couldn't really focus enough to add anything to their conversation.

Overall, the boisterous group was clearly having a great time as Fred and George warmed up the show with their standard - for them at least - set of fireworks and other products from their shop. Harry watched almost through a fog as Ginny laughed hysterically, Bill and Fleur talked quietly to each other as if they were completely separate from the rest of the group, Mrs. Weasley had a look of pride within her that Harry never expected to see after her reaction to the twins' choice of career, especially after skipping their N.E.W.T.s last year, Tonks was so obviously flirting with Remus it was making the young Gryffindor uncomfortable yet Remus didn't seem to mind, and in his own group Hermione was trying to convince Ron of some intense study schedule he would never be able to commit to and that was before Lavender got involved. All the way across from Harry, almost as far away as he could get was Snape. By now, Harry knew it was so the former spy could keep watch over the entire group as if it were his sole responsibility as host to their no-so-small party.

With each passing minute, as the hours got closer to midnight and the group was getting louder and louder from the joyous atmosphere and the drink, Harry was feeling more withdrawn. His body was aching, not unlike back before he started the chemotherapy, his skin was clammy, and he could now admit to himself that overall he was not feeling well.

Without any warning, just as the real firework show started with a yellow duck waddling across the sky quacking a tune Harry recognized, but couldn't place, quickly followed up with a basket of fruit that emitted a smell for each one represented in the basket - oranges, grapes, pineapple, and bananas - Harry's head started burning. What started out as a dull throbbing quickly turned into a stabbing burning pain that radiated through his head starting from his scar. The young wizard gritted his teeth against the pain and tried to block out the images that came shooting across his eyes, completely unaware of his screams across the beach.

_Bright shimmering fireworks of each color in the rainbow shot into the sky over the flat field in front of him. The sounds of people saying "oh" and "ah" could be heard above the talking and laughing._

Sweat was beading up on Harry's forehead as he unsuccessfully tried to pull up his forest, recognizing that he was getting a vision. Snape hadn't even started to go over how to keep other memories out, just how to protect his own. In the end, his effort was futile, even in the dark wizard's supposedly weakened state, the Gryffindor was no match for Voldemort.

_Surrounding him were hundreds of muggles all gathered to celebrate the coming of the New Year in hopes that this new start would bring them more joy and happiness than the one they were saying goodbye to. They were unsuspecting of the dozen black-clad wizards walking among them, just waiting for his cue to tear through their jubilant celebration._

_Today, there would be bloodshed, he would guarantee it. His followers were told to spare no one less they face the consequences of their betrayal afterwards. Lately, he'd been far too distracted with his own frustratingly declining health. Not anymore. Knowing what was happening with his body did nothing to boost his spirits, but this… getting back at the worthless muggles would make things better._

Back on the beach at Shell Cottage, Harry was now kneeling in the sand clutching his scar that was bleeding into his hand and onto the ground in front of him. He could feel the combination of excitement, disgust, and rage pouring through him from Voldemort's every changing mood.

_On his cue, the screams started to penetrate right through the festive atmosphere as the loud music abruptly stopped and the fireworks ceased. It was as if their energy dying was fueling his own and he would walk away stronger. Four of his marks florescenced a bright green against the black sky proving even if the Aurors were to show up now, it was far too late. They'd been too complacent lately; assuming he'd slowed down for reasons unknown to them, but that was about to change. He quickly decided how to take care of the problem and when he returned, he would start the process of his next plan to heal himself from this miserable muggle disease. What he had planned would serve two purposes: to simultaneously heal his body and to punish those who had previously failed him._

_Fire blasted from their wands into the colorfully decorated food stands along the perimeter creating a ring of flames to trap in the muggles. Corban and Rastaban had done their due diligence on this one and it had paid off. None of the muggles could leave, and it would delay their inept authorities from gaining entry giving them the maximum amount of time to tear through the festival grounds. He didn't need to lift his wand to enjoy the death and destruction around him. Some muggles, specifically the ones who fought back the most, were killed instantly; not giving them the chance to defend themselves. But it was the slow, painful deaths that brought a sinister smile to his face. When he could hear the screams and know it was he who was in control that night. Here, he could target the muggles in the way he could not seem to target and kill their disease running through his veins._

_When it seemed no more movement was heard within the grounds around him, and the muggle firefighters had finally arrived, he and his followers simply left, as if they had not done a single thing wrong._

Every muscle in Harry's body was suddenly on fire, protesting his every movement as he writhed in pain on the sand, and his nerves sent waves of electrical shocks throughout him. He never thought he would forget the pain of the Cruciatus Curse and yet experiencing it again tonight - through his unique connection to Voldemort - it felt worse than he ever remembered it. If he were clear-minded enough, he would wonder if the pain he was feeling was better than the person on the receiving end of it.

_"They are not working!" He was tired of this man's lies and as such let him know with the use of his favorite curse._

_"I've explained it," the wizard in front of him claimed when he finally could sit upright again. "It's… a complicated..."_

_The man looked behind him for assistance. The snake-like wizard gave out a sinister laugh; no one would help the brewer in front of them, he was all alone._

_His most loyal, or at least his closest, followers were surrounding him in the barren dining room. For this purpose, he'd removed all of the furniture allowing them ample space to observe the cowardly wizard in front of them. There was a reason he'd only used Severus for the best of his potions and this miserable brewer was no replacement by far. Matthew had been given the time and resources he needed to make the formulation provided to him by the new healer and yet he was met with only failures._

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_The flash of green was so bright and sudden, he caught two of his followers flinching and almost turned away from the blast, and he had no doubt in his mind who those two were. They would get their comeuppance soon enough._

_"Leave. And dispose of him." He told his group of Death Eaters with a wave of his hand. The lifeless body was levitated out of the room as the rest of his followers shuffled out. As expected, two of them fell a step behind._

_"Not you," He was pointing to the last of two stragglers, who unsurprisingly were also the two who had reacted to the death of his former brewer. The first paused as if to request to stay, but in the end continued on his way without looking back._

_He could almost taste the fear radiating from the pores of the one he'd asked to stay and he was drinking in the energy from it. The Death Eater, still hidden behind his mask, kneeled down to kiss his robes._

_"You will bring me Severus."_

_As expected his servant did not rise at this demand, however the small intake of his breath confirmed he'd understood his latest task._

_"Yes, my Lord," came the reply with a voice that was strong and confident, but didn't completely hide the hint of fear beneath it._

Less than 200 miles away, Harry never saw the group on the beach gather around him. He never heard Snape's urgent voice call out to him. He only felt the sardonic elation and satisfaction fill him up just knowing he would either get the answers he was looking for or the revenge that was well deserved.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus knew something was going to happen long before he saw the blood seeping from Harry's scar. He'd woken the morning of New Year's Eve with his Dark Mark tingling and though he'd used his best salve on it, the pain continued to grow throughout the day. While Harry and Dudley spent the afternoon combing the beach, Severus had used his emergency communication method - a charmed coin courtesy of Hermione - to get in touch with Albus and request some extra security at the cottage, just in case. When Lupin and Tonks showed up with the Weasley's, he naturally assumed they were sent as his requested help; which was easily confirmed with a simple inquiry.

He felt the minute the Dark Mark burned sometime around nine o'clock that night. They'd been on their way to the beach, ready to watch some new fireworks the Weasley twins had managed to create, when it took him completely off guard. The Mark had been eerily silent since the night of the second Privet Drive attack and the rescue mission for the Smithe's, and its first use two and half months later had as much pent-up aggression in the burn as he expected the Dark Lord himself felt. It would be interesting to hear Draco's account of what happened leading up to the summons and he was saddened by the simple fact that he wouldn't be there for his protégé tonight. The new spy wouldn't be in a safe position to contact Severus after the fact, and should he get his first kill, instead of being able to discuss and rationalize with someone who understood the guilt he would be feeling, he would be surrounded by people who would be celebrating his newest achievement. Even before knowing the contents of Harry's vision, Severus knew they would have a lot to sit down and debrief once the holiday was over.

As with all the summons, dread filled his stomach when the burning on his left forearm ceased, signalling the start of whatever raid he was sure they'd be on. No one could understand the cyclic nature of what a summons entailed from that first burn - regardless if the person was in an appropriate position to answer it - to the split second before apparating to a mysterious location that could be either very familiar or terrifyingly new, to the time you finally leave to do whatever it is your Lord asks you to do wherever it is he sends you, and finally ending with the guilt over the lives you had to take or otherwise risk losing your own. With zero inside information this time, the casualties were sure to be high and severe. The Dark Lord could be anywhere in a second, miles from his headquarters in Wiltshire, and on a holiday like tonight he would have his pick of muggle communities to terrorize. Once the burn hit him, he nodded his confirmation to Tonks who excused herself momentarily before their walk down to the beach, hopefully to contact the Order to be ready.

At the current moment though, he couldn't think about the muggles that had likely been horrifyingly killed for reasons that had nothing to do with them and they'd never be able to comprehend. He couldn't think about how their families would never know what happened the night their mother, sister, father, or son died. He had to push the guilt he was sure Draco was feeling about his role in whatever happened that night and focus on Harry laying in front of him. It was obvious that something was wrong with the Gryffindor as he was walking down to the beach party with his friends and cousin, and it was confirmed when he almost walked out of the visibly marked wards.

Now, they had managed to get the unconscious young wizard back into the cottage and onto the sofa, but he was far from safe. Tonks had left to go back to Hogwarts and would be returning with Poppy any second, however Severus wasn't exactly sure what the matron would be able to accomplish. Harry technically wasn't physically injured, at least not in any way they could see. It had appeared like he was subjected to the Cruciatus Curse, yet going through what he knew about mind magic, Harry actually experiencing it should not have been possible. Though it certainly wouldn't be the first time something abnormal happened to the young wizard; his son was destined to be the exception to every single rule known to man - wizarding and muggle alike.

Madam Pomfrey came through the door in huff pushing her way through the guests, demanding privacy, space, and a little help from Molly. The professor knew she wouldn't ask his help; he was too close to Harry to be able to objectively work on him.

Albus entered the cottage shortly after the medi-witch and immediately went into a deep discussion with Remus. In that moment, Severus realized Tonks had not returned, confirming that whatever had happened, had been severe. It was only about five minutes later that the werewolf abruptly left, angering Severus that the other man had barely looked back at Harry before leaving.

"We're going to go," Arthur pulled Severus aside to say. "If it's alright, Ron and Hermione asked to stay, but I told them you have the final call."

"It's fine," he replied almost too quickly.

"We'll be by in the morning to check on him," the Weasley Patriarch explained before the Weasley's, less Ron and Molly, took their leave.

"Severus," the headmaster called, walking up to the younger professor. If the circumstances had been different, he would have questioned where the headmaster had been wearing bright purple robes with small fireworks blasting across them. "What happened, my boy?"

"A vision. I do not know the nature of it as of yet. My best guess is it had something to do with why Miss. Tonks and Lupin are no longer here," he replied, giving what he'd said sink in before adding solemnly, "How bad was it, Albus? Be honest."

It wasn't a question he really wanted to know the answer to, but he had to ask. He needed to know what Harry had seen and with the Gryffindor unconscious, his own anxiety was continuing to rise from the unknown.

"It was bad," Albus walked over to the dining room in a position that would allow them to speak privately, but still gave Severus a visual on Harry's progress. "Early estimates are at least a hundred injured, about three dozen confirmed dead so far, and they're still trying to determine if there are any missing."

Pushing back the panic, he asked, "And the Death Eaters?"

Albus's crystal blue eyes didn't have their usual sparkle; it was far too depressing of a conversation for that. Instead they were filled with an understanding of how a man could feel waiting to hear if the child he was mentoring had been killed by taking on the risks no one else had volunteered to do. He tried not to think about this being what Albus went through whenever Severus had gone to Dark Lord's side as recently as six months ago; as he waited not only to find out the information the Order was so desperate for, but to hear if he had made it out alive this time. At the time, Severus knew the risks he was taking and never thought twice about it. Being on the other side of things now, while he waited to hear if Draco's body had been found - but would not be part of the death count because terrorists, as muggles would choose to call them, don't deserve that kind of respect - it didn't seem worth it. The little bits of information Draco managed to bring to them wasn't worth the risk to the sixteen year old's life. And yet he knew that was the deal they'd struck. Draco was born into an impossible situation where he would be forced to take on his father's ideals and pay for his father's mistakes. No child deserved that; to be used as a pawn in a war that went so far beyond them. Again he found himself questioning, how Harry and Draco could find themselves in such similar circumstances after being raised so differently?

"There were no reports of any deaths from Voldemort's side," Albus said, to which Severus felt himself relax. Physically, Draco was safe. Though mentally, with at least three dozen dead, the odds were not favorable that none of them were Draco's.

Albus walked back to the sitting room, patting Severus's shoulder as he passed, the closest the dark-haired man would allow anyone else to comfort him. None of them knew what the night would bring, except that they had a long night ahead of them.

It took the medi-witch two more hours to deem Harry as stable as she could get him, without actually knowing what was wrong or what had happened. The diagnostic scan showed he had something similar to a seizure and unfortunately there was nothing to do but wait for him to wake up; hopefully then they could get some kind of answers.

Severus wouldn't get those answers until three in the morning, when he was still wide awake in the armchair beside the sofa Harry was laying on with Ron and Hermione fast asleep on the floor and Dudley asleep in his room upstairs. How had he become responsible for the group of teenagers? So far, he never thought his counterpart had a better life here, nevertheless occasionally the idea of turning inwardly away from others didn't seem like such a bad thing.

"Hey," he heard Harry's scratchy voice full of panic from the sofa. Getting up quickly, the professor assisted Harry in sitting up. "You..."

"You are safe," Severus reassured the teen.

Harry started shaking his head back and forth and Severus wasn't sure exactly why. Did he feel he was still in danger from the Dark Lord in his mind? Did he see something they needed to be aware of?

"Harry," the professor finally said loudly to get the teen's attention, taking a guess at what the problem was, "there was nothing you could do to save them. Do you hear me?"

The pain in Harry's eyes was almost more than he could bear and his heart clenched when Harry didn't hide his tears. How much more would this child need to endure? How could they finally get through to him that these deaths were not his responsibility? That was really the only way Harry would make it through the years, and the battle ahead; especially when he considered they couldn't touch that damn soul fragment until he was done with chemotherapy, leaving the Dark Lord to stay in power.

"No," Harry sniffled, holding his head in his hands, trying to catch his breath from the near panic attack he was in, "he wants..."

"Breathe, Harry. You need to breathe."

The pause was excruciating as he waited to hear any information he could get on the vision he'd seen, on whatever it was the Dark Lord now wanted.

"He wants..." Harry lifted his eyes to meet Severus's dark ones, and once Harry started talking, it was like a flood gate. "He wants you. He asked… no demanded… one of them to capture you. He killed… he killed Matthew and now he wants you. He needs you to cure him. They're going to get into the castle, Severus!"

"No," he kneeled in front of the distraught teen thinking through the information he'd just learned. "Listen to me, Death Eaters cannot get into the castle, Harry. It's impossible."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows with a dark frown, "And yet somehow Voldemort ended up in the castle my first year? And Sirius my third year? What about Crouch? It seems to me like he can walk straight through the bloody door if he wanted to!"

Of course all of those were valid points and could not be ignored. It seemed every year they were unable to protect the young wizard in front of him from the very real threat out there waiting for him. How could he possibly explain that if the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't safe in the castle, a former Death Eater could be? The answer was simple, he would never be able to convince Harry of that.

Partially by luck, and partially by the circumstances, Harry became distracted by his two friends that had awoken from his yelling. Every-so-often, he'd make eye contact with the Gryffindor and tried to convey how seriously he was going to take this threat over him. If Matthew had been killed - an event that did not surprise him in the slightest - the Dark Lord must be trying to create the potions to rid himself of the cancer since even a mediocre brewer like Matthew couldn't mess up extra-strength healing potions. The chemotherapy-alternative though required a skill that far surpassed that of most Potion's Masters and as long as Severus ensured he stayed safely in the wards of the school or headquarters, the Dark Lord would never be able to make them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Exit Strategy


	56. Exit Strategy

~~~~SS~~~~

After the vision on New Year's Eve, their time at Shell Cottage was unexpectedly cut short when Albus called an Order meeting on the night of the second to discuss the events of the raid as well as how to proceed with the information they now had about the task relating to Severus's safety. Personally, he thought it was a waste of time seeing as no one in the Order was more qualified to protect him than himself, but he wasn't really in the mood to argue.

So that evening, Harry, Dudley, and Severus said goodbye to the comfort Shell Cottage had previously provided them and they used a port key to return to Hogwarts. The professor was not normally a superstitious man, however just in case, he did not promise to return there soon as he had when he'd left Aberdaron with Harry in his old reality. The more he could separate the two end results from the two realities, the better.

"Why can't I come with you?" Harry complained, an event that did not take a seer to know would occur. What was unpredictable to the professor was the fact that they were having this conversation in his own bedroom; Harry having followed him in the moment they returned home.

"For one, you are not a member or the Order, regardless of what you happen to think," he started as he unpacked his belongings back into his wardrobe and lavatory. He paused when he pulled out the empty picture and ran his fingers over the white surface, imagining what was hidden beneath, before placing it neatly on his bedside table next to where he kept his wand while he slept. "Second, there is nothing we'll be discussing at the meeting which you do not already know-"

"Exactly!" The Gryffindor interrupted. "It's not like I don't already know what happened. I bloody saw the whole thing. Maybe I can help for once!"

The message was loud and clear - Harry wanted to get involved, he wanted to fight instead of sitting back and waiting to defend. It was a fine line between an offensive and a defensive strategy and if Severus were being completely honest, he didn't think Albus had either of those at the moment. They weren't exactly protecting anything - besides Harry, but he refused to think of the child as a weapon - and they definitely weren't out collecting Death Eaters. In fact, so far their grand strategy seemed to be waiting for Harry and whatever was supposed to happen with the prophesy to come to fruition. That made having Harry present counterproductive to his personal agenda of pushing Albus away from depending on a sixteen year old wizard.

"I promise you, Harry," he watched the young wizard sit defiantly on his bed, "I will tell you whatever I can upon my return."

"It's not fair," Harry replied, jumping off the bed and out the door, hopefully to finish his own unpacking and school assignments because with chemotherapy tomorrow he wouldn't get the chance to.

"When is it ever," the former spy mumbled, following Harry, but unfortunately his destination was to Headquarters.

Severus hated number 12 Grimmauld Place with a passion. It wasn't necessarily the fact that it belonged to the Black family and Sirius - technically Harry now, though the teen would likely never voluntarily step foot here again - it was the dark and dreary atmosphere reminding him too much of the Dark Arts they were fighting so hard against. He could feel it emanating from the walls; like they had been soaking up all the dark magic done within for centuries and was thrusting it back out upon them now that the only visitors were fighting against that very same magic. It was where Harry had so many bad memories in this reality which somehow took priority over the good memories he'd had in the same house from his old reality. Severus's own counterpart had a rough history with the place that he tried hard not to think too much about because it would lead him down a dark road that was better off left alone.

As usual for Order meetings, the room was loud with the members catching up on their holiday and small talking among each other. Severus stood in the back corner, attempting not to draw attention to himself as he saw no need to engage in any of those pleasantries. And yet, somehow it never seemed to work and Lupin approached him.

"How's Harry?" The werewolf asked, a bit sheepishly. Though it had been over a week since the full moon, Severus had taken notice of how rough Lupin looked from his latest transformation. On New Year's Eve he discussed with the other man some easy adjustments he could do in the Wolfsbane potion he was still providing monthly to hopefully make his recovery easier.

"Angry," Severus replied shortly, nevertheless it was an honest assessment of the young Gryffindor since the vision. "We'd just gotten past that phase of things and it seems to have returned in full force."

"I really do appreciate everything you're doing for him," Lupin skeptically replied. "I don't know if I've told you that previously. He's really not your responsibility, but you took him on anyway. I wish there was more I could do."

"Much to everyone's surprise, Harry is not some _thing_ that gets passed around," he replied, letting his anger fuel him. Later, he would blame it on the odd circumstances for not maintaining his control and he would start to question how often that was happening of late. He was losing his touch and losing some control over his own emotions; two things his counterpart relied heavily on. "I stepped up when no one cared to notice Harry falling through every single crack, yourself included. Do not thank me now as a way to appease your own guilty conscience."

Not waiting for a response from the other wizard, Severus took his normal seat as Albus walked into the room and commanded the attention to the front.

"There were a total of 42 muggles killed at the festival from Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters on the 31st," Albus gravely started out knowing it was the number they would all be waiting to hear, "another 112 were injured, half of which are listed as severe, and 25 are still missing.

"This was a planned event, which we can tell based on the pattern of the attack. They trapped the muggles inside the grounds with a ring fire from the surrounding stands, preventing anyone from leaving and slowing down the muggle authorities. It gave them the maximum amount of time to terrorize the patrons."

The group around the table sat eerily silent. Everyone was going through the same thoughts Severus had when he'd first heard the news of the attack.

"Why weren't we notified there was a raid planned?" Moody angrily called out, slamming his staff onto the ground. "Seems to me our insider knowledge was living with the bastard, how come we didn't know about it?"

Every single person turned to look towards Severus. He was trained to work under pressure, he'd had the Dark Lord tear through his mind more times than these people could even think possible, yet sitting under their scrutiny was almost too much to keep his rising temper under control. Draco had a way to get in touch with him at Shell Cottage; he had the same coin system that Severus used to contact Albus in preparation for that night. The fact that the teen did not use it meant either he hadn't known about it, his cover had been discovered, or he simply was not in a position to be able to contact him. None of the options bode well for the blonde, and it would be something he needed to quickly get to the bottom of.

"I have not been able to debrief our operative of his time at the Dark Lord's headquarters," he aggressively replied. "When I have an answer, I will be sure to share any _relevant information_ with you."

That was the best the former auror would get from him even if it weren't for their tainted history. Tonight was not the night to mess with him.

"Let's move on," Arthur said, "has the guard from Malfoy Manor uncovered anything?"

"As a matter of fact, we did," Moody gave a strained smirk as if it was causing him pain to rub this into the former Death Eater's face, however Severus knew he was fully enjoying it, "seems that our _operative_ had spent a lot of his time with Rabastan Lestrange."

_Dammit_ _._

This was not good and the implication of it wasn't lost on Moody who had obviously been told that in Harry's vision, Yaxley and this particular Lestrange brother were credited for planning the raid. Severus could feel his panic and anger rising. He'd put himself on the line defending Draco this entire time and he would continue to do so until he knew what the bloody hell was going on. It was what Albus had done for him when the tides had been turned against him, but that didn't mean he couldn't be angry about being caught so off guard.

"There is also a woman living there," Moody continued, "who we suspect is the missing healer from St. Mungo's. We've been able to see her coming and going from the main house, always under the constant guard of Lucius Malfoy."

At that announcement, the noise in the room increased ten-fold. Lost deep in his thoughts on how to handle Draco's lack of communication when all indications pointed towards him being in close contact with at least one of the two Death Eaters that planned the raid, he blocked out the commotion around him. He could only hope the teen had some decent information to share with the Order that would somehow excuse his guilty appearance. Otherwise, there wasn't much Severus could do to keep him out of the Auror's custody. Knowing Moody, while he wouldn't necessarily try to place all 42 deaths on the boy, he wouldn't let him get out scot-free either. No, he had to get some kind of information from Draco and then talk to Albus about a contingency or possibly even an exit plan.

The meeting droned on without much else that Severus could give his input on. Without being in the Dark Lord's inner circle nor having had time to debrief Draco, he didn't know why he was required to stay in the first place. The only thing really accomplished - which in itself was frustrating - by the end of the meeting, was that it was determined that the guard at Malfoy Manor was worth the risk and therefore would stay in place until further notice. As Severus had nothing to do with said guard, he couldn't care less who wanted to risk their lives to wait and watch for the peacocks to walk by.

"Severus," Albus called after the meeting had adjourned, "please stay behind."

Gritting his teeth, he cursed the headmaster to himself for the public message he'd just sent. While the former Death Eater could admit that Albus had no choice but to call out immediately after the meeting ended, before anyone had the chance to file out, simply because Severus was usually the first to leave and tonight would have been no exception. For the second time in as many hours, the entirety of the Order was looking at him as if he were some common criminal. He was getting reprimanded because his protégé broke protocol. Anger filled him at both the blonde Slytherin for letting him down and himself for not checking in more often. He'd been too distracted lately and had put his guard down prematurely.

"I suggest you sit down with young Mr. Malfoy and explain the severity of the situation he's facing," Albus explained once they were the only two members left in the menacing house. "I'm sure there is some kind of explanation as to why he could not contact you prior, however the fact that you've heard nothing since is alarming."

"I do agree," he conceded but for different reasons. His concern was more about Draco's safety, questioning if the teen had not been safe to contact and what that could mean. "I'll be sitting down with him after the welcoming dinner on Sunday. Unless of course you see reason to call him back to school early? I believe that will likely draw more attention to his position within the Order."

"Do you think he's been compromised?"

It was the million galleon question he probably wouldn't even know after he sat down with the teen. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts about how to answer the simple question, he met Albus's blue eyes, dulled with worry, and said with a straight face, "We'd never know it until it was too late."

~~~~HP~~~~

**_Sunday 5, January 1997_ **

Harry woke up on the last day of his Christmas holiday in an aggressive mood. He hadn't finished his assignments before he had chemotherapy two days ago, leaving him with one essay to write and two to rewrite per Snape's not so subtle instructions. It would have been fine, except for some reason that treatment hit him hard and he was sick most of yesterday too. It had been weeks since he'd been too sick or in so much pain he could hardly move after chemotherapy and it frustrated him not knowing why. Ultimately, it didn't really matter and with only one more round of phase two, on the 13th and 14th, he'd have a whole new set of side effects to get used to coming up. Luckily today he woke up feeling much better, but was now stuck with too many essays to write in a short amount of time.

Then there was the fact that Snape hadn't told him much from the Order meeting after his vision. He didn't need the details of what they'd found, having experienced it along with Voldemort's innermost thoughts and feelings of it, but it would be nice to know what the Order was planning to do about the whole thing. But of course, that was asking too much. He was only a pawn in Dumbledore's war. On second thought, he was probably more like bishop or knight, but the sentiment was all the same. As long as he did his duty, no one really cared what happened to him in the end.

It was with those aggressively negative thoughts that he found himself sitting on the sofa working on his Transfiguration essay, the one he hadn't even started yet since most of it was practical lessons he couldn't do. His quill was scratching far too hard on the parchment - threatening to break the tip - when Snape finally sat down in his normal armchair, leaning back to rest his head on the plush back. The professor had been frantically moving about their quarters all morning doing what, Harry would never be told, so he hadn't asked. He probably wouldn't have cared if it weren't for his current mood.

"What's going on?" He asked Snape, not really expecting any kind of answer, but he had too much built up anger to sit in silence.

"It's not really-"

"Any of my concern," Harry finished his predictable response. "I got that the first dozen times you've told me since we've been back home."

To the professor's credit, Harry saw him try to keep his own temper in check when dealing with Harry's own angry one. It wouldn't do either of them any good if they both had explosive attitudes.

"Tell me what's on your mind."

It wasn't a question and he somehow made it clear that he expected a response from the Gryffindor. Snape leaned forward so his elbows were resting on his knees. Harry supposed it made him look more relatable, but that didn't mean much to him at that moment.

"I don't want to go back to classes this term," Harry spat out quickly at the same time he stopped his quill dramatically. "It's completely pointless."

Again, he saw Snape put up the mask he always wore when he needed to hide his first reaction. It frustrated Harry, even when he wasn't feeling as confrontational as he was that day. Why was it so wrong to show any kind of emotion? It made much more sense to him to act surprised when you were taken off guard, sad after hearing bad news, and happy when something good happened. Who said indifference was the best way to react to someone or something? For once, he'd like to know what Snape was thinking to the request he'd just given, not thinking that perhaps the reaction the former Death Eater would have might terrify the young wizard.

"Can you tell me why you think I should allow you to quit school?"

"I didn't say quit school," Harry started. "I just…"

"Do not wish to return," the professor finished. "Just so we are both on the same page, that is, indeed, called quitting. Now I'll ask you again, why should I allow it?"

"First," Harry was gearing up for the fight that deep down he wanted, "I'm so far behind, there's no way I could have been graded for my classes last term."

"You would be correct," Snape confirmed, and Harry felt like he'd been hit with a stunning spell to his gut.

"So if I'm not getting graded, why go at all?"

They both sat across from each unsure of what to say. Harry knew it was petty of him - that he wanted to pick this fight - but he didn't care. It felt good to get some of that pent up frustration out even if it was directed at the wrong person

"Get up," Snape said standing with his arms crossed in front of him.

"Wait… what?" Harry couldn't be more confused and his emerald eyes with his furrowed brow gave way to that confusion.

"I said," Snape repeated sternly, "Get. Up. Now."

Audibly gulping, Harry rose and immediately felt uncomfortable under the professor's gaze. After being ill the last two days, the Gryffindor hadn't bothered with his jeans and jumper, instead choosing to stay comfortable in a pair of gray gym trousers and a long sleeved red shirt. Now though, he felt like he was being judged for wearing clothing a half a step above pyjamas after lunch.

"That will do," Snape responded and walked towards the door. With a wave of his wand, Harry's own Holly wand came flying from his bedroom into the professor's hand, "follow me."

Now, in addition to being confused, Harry was feeling a little scared. Where was the man taking him where he'd need his wand? He hadn't used the thing since before they confirmed the block and the need to protect it. Not wanting to get into any more trouble than he already was, the young wizard followed his mentor out their door and through the extremely quiet, deserted corridors. Harry was sure that in addition to their footsteps echoing across the walls, his drumming heart could be heard by each and every portrait they passed. They continued walking until Harry finally had a clue of their final destination. His suspicion was confirmed when the pair entered the corridor where the defense classroom was held.

He walked into the classroom slowly, watching as Snape pushed away the empty desks with wandless, nonverbal magic, until the middle of the classroom was completely empty. Harry's heart rate began to rise even more than during the mysterious walk up here, and all he could think was that there was no way this was going to end well. Had he finally pushed the man past his breaking point? It wouldn't take Merlin to know that going beyond the professor's breaking point wouldn't end well for him at all.

"Erm," Harry started nervously, "sir? I'm sorry for what I said, I'm frustrated with-"

"I know that, Harry," Snape interrupted him by holding the Holly wand out in his left hand. "Take your wand and I'd like you to attack me."

Harry's eyes went wide, but he didn't know if it was from the shock of hearing Snape asking to be attacked or the fact that he was being told to use his magic. Deciding to start with the latter, he asked, "You're allowing me to use my magic?"

"Sometimes we need to take risks for the overall greater good," he responded with a small cringe, which in reality didn't actually answer Harry's question.

Holding out his wand, he thought about what he should cast first. Just having his wand in his hand felt odd to him, but he focused on the magic coursing through his body. It was like seeing his friends again for the first time after the summer holiday; it was excited, a little nervous, but ready to go and be used.

" _Flipendo!"_ The Gryffindor called out and smiled as a yellow light came flying from the tip of the wand. The reaction time was no different than he remembered, although he couldn't really say he'd paid attention before learning all about magical cores.

Unsurprisingly, Snape blocked it, the man had known he was going to get attacked after all; had asked to be attacked really. It was like the dam inside of him broke after that first spell and when Snape said "again", Harry was ready. Before either of them knew it, they were dueling - albeit extremely slowly and completely one-sided - but to Harry it was enough to start to release the negative energy that had been building up inside of him since that awful vision. He lost complete track of time as the pair fell into a rhythm, with Harry throwing out spell after spell and Snape continuing to block with ease. The young wizard pictured himself fighting against everything he couldn't physically fight right now: the cancer, Voldemort, Draco's impact on Hermione, his school work, the chemotherapy, his relatives' treatment of him, and with each jinx or hex thrown, he felt himself feeling better; his head started to clear. It could have been five minutes or fifty minutes, he was so lost in the moment it was impossible to tell, before he was sweating like crazy and they were finally interrupted. He guessed it was only a matter of time until someone had to have heard the bangs and booms echoing off the empty classroom walls.

"What do you think you are doing?"

The screeching from Professor McGonagall distracted Snape just enough that he missed the block to Harry's stinging jinx which proceeded to hit him on his left upper arm. The professor fell to the ground, holding his injured arm with a grimace of pain across his face.

Panting, Harry leaned over and rested his hands on his knees, not sure what to tell his guardian about what had been going on in the classroom. Luckily, he didn't have to as Snape stepped in for him.

"Thank you for that Minerva," he approached the very angry Transfiguration professor. Harry randomly remembered he had been working on her essay - due tomorrow - before all of this started and now would need to hurry to finish it tonight. "I was actually in complete control of the situation before you showed up."

"Complete?" her head was turning rapidly between the two wizards, "complete control? Do you have any idea what could have happened?!"

"Harry needed to release some," Snape turned towards the Gryffindor wizard, "leftover aggression from what had happened over New Year's and I was helping him overcome it."

Harry felt himself flush. Had it been that obvious he was trying to pick a fight?

"Severus," McGonagall argued in such a huff she couldn't even put her words together. "There is so much wrong with this situation and as the adult here, I would expect better of you."

"Harry," Snape started, ignoring McGonagall's lecture in a move Harry was sure he would never attempt without risking death, and the young wizard felt a setup coming his way, "as Minerva is your guardian, and responsible for overseeing your academic curriculum, is there anything you'd like to discuss with her now?"

_That was so Slytherin._

He squinted his eyes at the man across from him, who appeared to be sweating more than Harry had ever seen him before. Maybe he hadn't been as awful as he'd thought? Focusing again at the question he'd been posed, the Gryffindor wizard could admit that he no longer had the urge to quit his classes. As usual, Snape had been right: it was merely a reaction to his overly angry mood.

"No," Harry said to McGonagall, but without moving his eyes from Snape, "there's nothing I need right now."

"Perfect," Snape replied and then rested his hand on Harry's shoulder almost gleefully - if the professor could ever be described like that. "In that case, you should go back home and get ready for the welcoming dinner. I'd suggest a shower, and I think you had an essay or two to finish up."

Harry's mouth hung open at the casual dismissal. Still not quite sure what had transpired between them and what Snape was going to explain to McGonagall, the young wizard made his way towards the door.

"And Harry," the defense professor called out. Instinctively, Harry cringed as he turned back around, "you will be in this classroom first thing tomorrow morning."

_Damn, how did he get so bloody good?!_

~~~~SS~~~~

The afternoon dueling, if one could even call it that as it was simply Harry firing off spells that Severus was blocking - at least until Minerva showed up - was probably one of his better ideas to help the Gryffindor deal with his frustration over the injustices of his life. When the young wizard assaulted him with the idea of not returning to classes tomorrow, Severus knew something drastic had to be done and it was worth the lecture he'd received from Minerva on Harry's safety. As if he, of all people, would forget.

Overall, it appeared to help, and Severus was pleasantly surprised when he saw the young wizard chatting away with his friends over dinner in the Great Hall once all the students returned. At his Slytherin table though, Draco was acting as arrogant as ever, a sign to the former spy that something was amiss with the teen. Draco had made very promising progress on his moral and character growth, and yet upon returning from holiday he appeared to lose most of that progress. Severus knew better though. No one, not even a Malfoy, could go backwards that drastically without a reason; it was likely a façade the blonde was putting in place to protect himself.

After dinner he was sitting in the quiet of his defense office, going through the lesson plans for the first week post-holiday, also known as one of the least productive weeks of the school year and therefore one of the most difficult; for both the students and himself. When he was overseeing the Potion's class, he always made sure there would be zero brewing in the post-holiday week, even for his N.E.W.T classes. It had only taken one horrific explosion in his second year teaching to know that the students simply couldn't focus on the tasks at hand after spending about a fortnight away and celebrating with their families. For his defense classes though, he had decided to take a completely different approach. What better way to get the students focused than their need to defend themselves against their fellow classmates? Therefore, the first day of each class would be spent reviewing the defensive spells they'd learned in practical lessons. It would get them up and moving instead of falling asleep to him droning on and on with a lecture.

"Professor?" His attention was brought up to his doorway where Draco stood. "You asked me to stop by?"

Demanded was more how it went, but he didn't correct him. Gesturing to the chair across from his desk, he mentally prepared for wherever this conversation could lead; it could go well and he'd have a long list of things to share with Albus, but he was realist by nature and therefore prepared for the worst.

When the door slammed close behind the blonde, he wasted no time in getting started, "Tell me what happened at the manor. I expect no detail left unturned."

Draco's grey eyes steeled as he thought about the pseudo-interrogation he was about to be subjected to.

"There's not much to say," the teenager told him with an air of defiance Severus did not appreciate.

"I happen to disagree," he challenged. "A raid that killed 42 muggles while you were living with the Dark Lord himself does not translate to 'not much happening'. I will understand if you were not in a position to alert me before the fact, but you will not lie to me about it afterwards."

His anger was growing with each passing second. Not allowing himself to show his hand prematurely, he waited in the uncomfortable silence.

"I couldn't notify you," Draco repeated the excuse that had been provided, and that fact did not go unnoticed by the former spy. "I found out about it a couple of days after Christmas, but I was never left alone after that."

"Why were you with Rabastan?" It was more pointed of a question than he had planned to ask, however it was also the most damning evidence against the teen as to where his loyalty fell. "We know he was one of the orchestrators of the raid and we also know you were seen often with him, specifically between Christmas and New Year's Eve. There are a lot of people asking a lot of questions I have no answers for."

"How did you know about who set it up?" Draco asked with a panic-filled voice that was so far from the training they've done. "And where I spent my time?"

"Potter saw it all in a vision that same night," he explained, since Draco and the Dark Lord already knew about the visions. He could not safely tell him about the guard though, not until he knew for sure he hadn't been compromised, and therefore ignored the second question.

Again, an awkward silence surrounded the mentor and his protégé. Draco was lost in his thoughts, his eyes shifting as if he were playing back the memories of that time frame.

"Of course he saw it all," the blonde Slytherin eventually said once the silence had gotten far too deafening for him. "Rabastan was training me. The fact that I hadn't… killed… anyone yet had drawn unwanted attention to me. To keep my cover, I allowed him to do what he felt was necessary so I was ready for the raid."

It had been foolish for him to think they'd get Draco out before his soul was forever tainted by causing the death of another human being. He hadn't focused their training on killing because he concentrated on making sure Draco would be able to keep his cover, and now the weight of his own failure covered him like a blanket. What had Draco been subjected to during this so-called training? Given no other choice, and already knowing the answer, he had to ask the question.

"And did you kill?"

The answer came in the eerie silence that followed those four heavy words. It was an unfortunate part of war and one that he wished he could keep both Draco and Harry far away from, but no matter how hard he tried, it seemed they were destined to be engulfed in the death and destruction of it all - Draco participating and Harry being forced to watch - both completely helpless in their own way. And so he did the only thing he could do at this point - he listened to Draco recount his "lessons" from the Lestrange brother and what happened during the raid, including the two people he had been forced to kill; the first of whom was not from using the killing curse, however he quickly found that the Unforgivable gave a faster, painless death.

Draco did not cry, though his eyes were red rimmed. He'd had it ingrained in him that crying was a weakness - another similarity between Harry and Draco, though in Harry's case it was because he learned early on that his cries would go unnoticed and in many cases punished - and that weaknesses could be exploited. Severus knew from experience that nothing he said to try to ease the blonde's guilty conscience would make any difference; this raid would forever be a part of the teen.

It took the better part of an hour to go over every detail from his "training" to what happened from his viewpoint - as opposed to the Dark Lord's through Harry - from the raid. Severus had no doubts that Draco was being honest with him about what had occurred over his holiday and his time with the Death Eaters. He'd talked about the summons he'd received when he first arrived home, about the Dark Lord's presence over their practically non-existent Christmas celebration, and about his feelings of being used as revenge for his father's own mistakes at the Department of Mysteries last June. He wasn't wrong; unfortunately, that was the only logical reason the Dark Lord would want him marked so soon to begin with - to torture Lucius and Narcissa.

In all of the information he'd learned, like the confirmation that Nadine Walker was living at the manor to help heal the Dark Lord, or that they should expect an increased number of raids as Voldemort was losing his patience with that healing process, and the details of Matthew's murder, including where to find his body, he listened patiently hoping to get to the piece of information he was desperate to hear unsolicited from the new spy. What he was waiting to hear was about the mission for his own capture and return to the Dark Lord's service. While he'd assured Harry that no Death Eaters could get into the castle, the fact remained that one was already planted here and if he were the Dark Lord - and wanted to obtain someone from inside these wards - he would use that single Death Eater to accomplish it. There was no doubt in his mind that the masked wizard that had been called to stay behind after the raid was Draco Malfoy. What he questioned - and was ultimately testing - was where the teen's loyalties lie after spending the holiday submerged in the dark arts of the Death Eaters. Would Draco provide that information to him freely?

"Is that all?" He prompted when Draco finished his explanation of what had occurred before and leading up to New Year's Eve.

The conflict was there, as obvious as ever, in the teen's grey eyes and his clenched pointed jaw.

"No," he replied to Severus's relief. "He's asked me to capture you and bring you back to the Manor."

"I know," he responded without any fanfare in his voice.

"You know?!" Draco angrily replied, standing up so quickly the chair he'd practically seeped into during his description of the raid crashed backwards to the floor. Severus did not even blink. "Oh I get it! I bet Potter saw that too? Why the bloody hell didn't you say something? Was this all a test?"

"One that you passed," the former spy confirmed, "though I'll admit I wasn't sure you would at the end."

"Shite, Severus." The teen ran his hands through his uncharacteristically messy blonde hair. "After everything we've been through, you seriously doubted me?"

"I did not doubt you," he reassured Draco, "however that does not mean I will not test that trust. Get used to it."

Draco scowled at him before up-righting his chair and aggressively sitting back down in it so hard, the professor was surprised it didn't break, "So what do we do? I think he expects you to brew whatever it was that Matthew botched up so badly that got him killed, but I can't actually deliver you to him."

It was a relief to not only hear Draco say those last seven words, but to feel the meaning behind them. No matter what had just transpired between them, Draco wouldn't betray him or the Order.

"I will work it out with the Headmaster," he had no real plans on how to get Draco out of this impossible task as of yet, but he wasn't about to admit to that. "We will find a way to keep you safe above all else."

He could tell Draco didn't believe him, which was more than evident with his mumbled, "Sure thing."

"I do need to see your memories from the holiday," Severus very matter-of-factly said, hoping to keep the issue of his invasion of the teen's privacy to a minimum. "I'm going to be honest, it's not only because that is what Moody expects me to do, given your lack of communication about the raid, but I'll also be able to ascertain if your cover has been compromised. If you'd like, I'll give you time to get your thoughts together before-"

"Just do it," Draco interrupted him, the scowl still firmly planted on his face, "That's the only way you'll satisfy _them_. After spending my holiday with those bastards, trust me, I'm not ever switching sides."

* * *

"I'm pulling him out," Severus hadn't even waited for Albus to offer him one of his blasted sweets before making his demand clear. He'd stormed from his office upon seeing the memories from Draco's encounters with the various Death Eaters, determined to get the blonde out no matter what the cost. "With this impossible task hanging over his head, they're going to kill him if he doesn't do it."

Only in this office would he speak honestly about his doubts and vulnerabilities and this fit the bill to a tee. He was filled with rage over what Rabastan put Draco through, guilt over his own lack of direction that put Draco in that position to begin with, and afraid because he had no idea how to fix it all besides finding anyway to get his Slytherin out of there.

"That isn't entirely your call to make, my boy," Albus challenged back, though it wasn't a completely unexpected answer, the headmaster's sincerity over the situation as a whole was.

"This a lose-lose situation for him," Severus explained, allowing his head to clear a little more about it, "either he delivers me to the Dark Lord and he's labeled a traitor to the Order and delivered to Azkaban, or he doesn't and he's killed for being a traitor to the Dark Lord. We need to hide him, there's no other choice anymore."

"And what do we say to Narcissa and Lucius when their child goes missing from the school grounds one day?"

It would be an absolute nightmare and there would be no way Albus would recover as headmaster from a missing Malfoy. It was one thing for the Greengrass girls not to return from the Christmas Holiday - secretly hidden away with their mother at Shell Cottage - but the Malfoy's were living with the dark wizard. It wouldn't go unnoticed, nor would it go unmentioned to the Board of Governors or the _Daily Prophet_. Nevertheless, it was the only choice left that didn't end with Draco in Azkaban or dead and he would have to convince the teen of that simple fact.

"We hide them too," his mask of control was placed back over his face as this was far too close to a conversation he had with the headmaster about sixteen years ago, when he begged the man to hide Lily and then her family. He tried hard not to think about how awful that turned out. "Narcissa will do anything to protect her son, and I believe Lucius would as well, however if we at least have Narcissa on Draco's side then there won't be much effort put into their search. The last thing Lucius would want is an investigation into his wife and son's disappearance, to draw unwanted attention to his current circumstances."

Albus paced across the floor likely trying to consider what each move would do to their chessboard down the road. Losing his patience, Severus retorted, "We cannot leave him to this task!"

"I trust you, Severus," Albus finally admitted, taking longer than the younger professor would have liked, "I'll start moving some things around and get an exit strategy in place for him and Narcissa. When would the next expectation be that he returned home?"

"Outside of a summons?" Severus asked rhetorically, "Easter holiday. Draco typically goes home for that one."

Nodding his head, the elderly wizard looked up and met Severus's eyes, "I will make it work within that time frame. Please make young Mr. Malfoy aware of our intentions and should he get summoned before then, he should answer it. It's imperative that everything is business as usual until the Easter holiday."

A wave of relief ran from his head to his toes. He refused to let Draco be imprisoned or killed and while it wasn't as immediate as he would have hoped, these types of things never were. They needed to make their moves slowly or face the consequences of Voldemort discovering what they were doing. It would be unlikely that Draco was summoned before Easter, and if he were, they would be facing a whole set of other issues to deal with.

"And Severus," the defense professor was almost out the door of the headmaster's office when Albus called to him, "I won't let Tom get to you."

Taken aback by the bold statement, he physically recoiled. Not once since learning of the task to capture him did it ever occur to the former spy that his life may be in danger.

"I know you won't," he answered genuinely, "the alternative never crossed my mind."

Later, while he was sitting in his office with a glass of firewhiskey, Harry having long gone off to bed ready to continue his education in the morning, Severus reflected on the mess he'd managed to find himself in. Between the Order meeting earlier in the week, navigating another one of Harry's challenging moods, and adding Draco's situation into the mix, he'd be lucky to get out of this with his mind still fully intact. For now, they had a plan for all of those situations: Harry was staying in classes even though he knew he was not getting graded, it being for the best that he had something to focus on. For Draco, he would sit down with the Slytherin later this week and lay down their idea of an exit plan, and until then he simply needed to go about his way as if nothing was happening. The most important part was that the blonde would not be expected to complete his task and he would be protected from his future failure in it. Whether they liked it or not, it was imperative above all else that they stayed focused and that they kept looking and moving forward. He downed the last half of his glass at once, then left for his bedroom, not at all ready for the start of term in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: A Birthday Surprise


	57. A Birthday Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, I hope you enjoy this one!

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_"Severus?"_

_There was a knock on his Potion's classroom office door that drew his attention up a split second before he heard her call his name. The look on Minerva's face was not one of amusement or relief; instead he could instantly tell she was nervous about the topic she needed to discuss with him at almost half past eleven on a Friday night._

_"Is everything alright, Minerva?" He asked already thinking through what could possibly be wrong. It could be one of his Slytherins, though she would likely take more enjoyment in lecturing him over whatever it was that they had done. This left Harry as the only other option, and if it fell from her to him - requiring a parent's involvement - it had to be something serious. "Please take a seat."_

_She sat down confidently, though a little nervously, in the chair across from him. Even with no windows in his dungeon office, somehow it always seemed darker and drearier at night. The fact that it was winter - Ron's sixteenth birthday to be exact - made the air feel colder than usual, which didn't help the atmosphere. Now if only he could ascertain what it was that his fifteen year old son had done, he might feel a little better._

_"It's Harry," Minerva said, sympathetically. "There's no good way to say this, so I'm just going to get straight to the point on it-"_

_"I wish you would," he interrupted her hoping to move this forward at a faster pace so he could find out exactly how much trouble his son was in._

_"He was found outside of the dorms after curfew," she paused and he knew there had to be more; being out after curfew was something his Head of House could handle. "He was in an empty classroom, with Miss Chang. They were-"_

_He held his hand up to stop her, "How bad?"_

_"It appeared innocent," his colleague pointedly said, "but I don't know where things would have ended up had it not been interrupted."_

_Living at a boarding school during a time when teenagers were doing their most hormonal growing, both professors - especially being a Head of House - had unfortunately needed to have plenty of these conversations with their students throughout the years. Typically it would involve a letter home to each students' parents and, depending on how "innocent" or not it was, a visit with Madam Pomfrey. So far, Severus had not had to get involved to the level which required the medi-witch with his own students, but he had a suspicion it was more because his Slytherins were too cunning to get caught than the fact that they weren't engaging in that activity. He had a feeling Minerva had not been so lucky throughout the years with her more daring lions; case in point, Harry._

_Thinking further of the situation, he had not been aware of Harry and the sixth year Ravenclaw restarting their relationship since they'd broken up - if one could even say that for the small amount of time they dated post Yule Ball - almost a year ago, and then Miss Chang started dating Cedric Diggory right after he'd won the Triwizard Tournament. Apparently, something had to have happened recently for the Gryffindor to end up in this position and he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know at this point. They'd had the "Wands and the Cauldrons" talk back when Harry was thirteen. It was as awkward as one would imagine and he did not look forward to some variation of the conversation now that things seemed a bit more relevant to the teen._

_"Where is he?" The Potion's Master asked._

_"I walked him down to your quarters," she explained, "I assumed you'd be down there given the hour, but when it was empty I told him to stay there while I came to find you."_

_"Thank you, Minerva," he collected the papers he was marking and stood. "Is there anything else you need from him? There's a high probability that he'll be grounded through the weekend."_

_"No, Severus. Gryffindor had Quidditch practice yesterday," she mirrored his stance and gave him a small smile. "Go easy on him though."_

_He gave an exhausted_ **_hmph_ ** _and left his office to go and find out what was going on with his son._

_The walk to his quarters was a short distance from the Potion's office, but he'd gone slowly to help give him time to collect his thoughts. How was he going to approach this?_

_Upon entering, the lanterns in the sitting room were dimmed, suggesting that Harry had already gone to his bedroom. He gave a half a knock and then opened the door, figuring an infraction like this did not yield the need to respect the young wizard's privacy._

_As expected, Harry was already dressed in a pair of his red pyjamas - making the correct assumption he'd be sleeping there that night - to which Severus noticed were now about an inch too short. They'd need replacing and he made a mental note to ask the Gryffindor if any of his other non-school clothing was getting too small._

_"Hi," Harry said and his face immediately turned bright red. "I'm guessing Professor McGonagall found you? And told you everything?"_

_"Yes," he confirmed taking a seat on the edge of the bed, "however she did not 'tell me everything'. I was hoping you could fill in the important blanks."_

_He waited for Harry to start talking, knowing from his previous spying days that if he could be patient the other person usually started talking as they tried to fill in the awkward silence. He was rewarded almost instantly._

_"It wasn't how it looked!" His son immediately started with._

_"Then do please explain to me how it should have looked when your Head of House finds you in an empty classroom with a female student?"_

_"Well, when you put it like that," the Gryffindor flushed some more. "We were all celebrating Ron's birthday and Seamus suggested we play Spin the Bottle, did you know that's a game in the wizarding world too?"_

_Not validating that with a response, he simply stared at his son letting the uncomfortable silence fall over them again._

_"And..." Harry continued, "at the end, Cho and I ended up… did you know her and Cedric broke up over the holiday?"_

_Again, Severus said nothing. This was not appearing any better than when he thought maybe he had missed the fact that Harry and Cho had gotten back into a relationship. Instead it appeared they were playing a teen aged game, which was so much worse._

_"So..." The Gryffindor nervously ran his hands over the top of his green bedspread, "after the party I was walking her back to the Ravenclaw dorms and well, we ended up in a classroom and…"_

_Harry trailed off and at this point, Severus knew the young wizard's embarrassment wouldn't allow him to continue._

_"Harry," he said calmly, much more calmly than he felt inside. Inside he was a stormy mess. "Above all else, I need you to be honest with me, had Professor McGonagall not found you, would things have gone much further than they had?"_

_Harry looked down at his hands with his fingers twisting around one another. He didn't lift his head when he mumbled "I don't think so, but I'm not really sure."_

_It was far more honest of an answer then he would expect from a fifteen year old; a fifteen year old far too young to be engaging in those types of activities. But he held his tongue against his rising disappointment and chose to focus on Harry's honesty and what that meant for them - that Harry trusted Severus enough to talk about things like this hopefully before anything got too far the next time._

_It was well after midnight and so he told Harry to go to sleep and that they'd discuss it in the morning. It was then that Severus had the very real conversation - one he'd never had with his own father and therefore had no idea if he'd done it correctly - about love and what it meant to be with a woman in "that way" and how Harry should wait until he was much older to make those kinds of decisions. That someday he would find a woman who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and if he waited until that time, it would be special. And then, because Severus was a realist and preferred to cover all the bases just in case, he went through all the ways Harry could stay safe - both the muggle and wizarding methods - much to the young wizard's complete embarrassment with the hope that his son wouldn't need to use them for a very long time._

~~~~HP~~~~

**_Monday 6, January 1997_ **

"Hey, Potter!" Harry was stopped by the sudden call of his name as he was leaving the Transfiguration classroom. It startled him, causing him to drop his heavy school bag from his bony shoulder.

Unlike Snape's thrilling start of the term in Defense class, where Harry got to watch his classmates tournament-style duel - which they would be finishing on Wednesday's class - McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson had been mostly review of the biggest errors from the end of term exams. Overall, it was a dreadfully boring lesson and he was happy his two classes were now completed for the day, still being on his alternative schedule, compared to his classmates who still had others to go to.

"What is it, Malfoy?" Harry took notice of the Slytherin's use of his surname which they'd unofficially stopped using after the potions accident last November. It made Harry even more suspicious over what happened while the blonde stayed behind enemy lines over the holiday to change his view of the Gryffindor, especially after the tone of Snape's voice when he asked the Slytherin to stay after class. It was obvious to Harry that something was going on; he just couldn't tell if it was with the Order or the Death Eater side of things. Deciding to test the waters between them, Harry added genuinely, "Great job in defense today."

It seemed to catch the blonde off guard as did Hermione's presence when she caught up with them after staying behind to ask Professor McGonagall a question; something only Hermione would do on the first day back from holiday. "Uh, thanks. I had easy opponents today, let's see how Wednesday's class goes."

Harry laughed, "The bigger question is if you'll be able to actually fight your girlfriend."

That definitely had its intended effect as both of the other teens started to flush and they all had a good chuckle over it. Harry had no doubt that without him participating in this dueling tournament it would end up being Draco versus Hermione in the end, mostly because Ron had been knocked out early on from a dirty attack by Nott. Harry found himself actually looking forward to Wednesday morning's class simply to see where the duels would end up. It could really go either way with Draco the better dueler if he weren't battling against his girlfriend.

The trio of sixth years - Ron having already been dragged off to who knew where by Lavender - continued to walk towards the Great Hall for lunch. Draco and Hermione were holding hands, making Harry uncomfortable as he was brought back to the conversation he overheard Snape have with the blonde at Slughorn's party. At the time, he'd been so focused on Snape leaving for the holiday without him, he'd forgotten until this moment that the former spy was worried - _did Snape ever get worried?_ \- about how dating Hermione would impact his Death Eater life. But what about Hermione? Wouldn't dating Death Eater Draco Malfoy put her in harm's way? If Draco really cared about her, why would he allow her to be put in danger? Was it really any different than being friends with the Boy-Who-Lived? Harry had put his friend's life in danger pretty much every year they'd known each other; the worst being less than a year ago at the Department of Mysteries.

"We'll have to see how things fall," Draco nervously said peering over at the witch next to him, "but, what I actually wanted to ask was if you had anything planned for Severus's birthday?"

Harry stopped walking. How come he had no clue when the professor's birthday was? Obviously, it was close enough that Draco was asking him about it.

"Erm," it was the Gryffindor wizard's turn to be nervous as he sheepishly asked, "when is his birthday?"

Draco stared at him with his grey eyes squinted, "It's Thursday, the 9th."

_Shite._

That really wasn't a lot of time to do much of anything, but he couldn't let the day go unnoticed. Snape had done so much for him over such a short amount of time, that he had to think of some way to acknowledge it.

"I didn't know his birthday was this week," Harry admitted as they were approaching the Great Hall. "Did you have anything in mind?"

"Oooh," came a high pitched squeak from behind him. He didn't need to turn around to know it was Lavender, apparently having finished whatever it was her and Ron rushed off to do before lunch, "Who's birthday is it?! We should have a party!"

Draco and Harry both looked at each other and started laughing. Ron, who apparently took it as an insult to his girlfriend, pulled her closer to him as if he were protecting her from the other two wizards.

"It's Professor Snape's birthday," Hermione said, with her own small chuckle.

Upon hearing this, Ron made a disgusted face, "Since when do we celebrate a professor's birthday? Especially that one."

Harry gave this best friend an exasperated sigh, surely he wasn't that daft to be going through this again.

"No one needs a _good_ reason to throw a party, Won-Won," Lavender said, jumping up and down like a toddler. "Oh! This will be so great! When is it?"

Harry shot a warning glance over to Draco, "I really don't think this is a good idea. Nothing about Severus screams the 'birthday party type'."

Images of students hanging from the ceiling went flying through Harry's head. This was an absolutely horrible idea.

"No, no, no," he called out to his fellow classmates who had continued walking into the Great Hall. Unfortunately - or fortunately depending on how one looked at it - Draco had to go to the Slytherin table and therefore he had no real support against Lavender and her preposterous plan to throw Snape a birthday party.

"We'll do it super small," she went on with Hermione, Ginny, and Ron, "he doesn't have any friends anyway, and I get the feeling that most of the other professors just tolerate him."

Taking a quick glance up at the head table, Snape was in what appeared to be a serious conversation with Dumbledore and McGonagall. The young wizard got the impression that it had to do with whatever kept Snape out so late last night. The professor was starting to look exhausted again, Harry noticed, similar to how he looked back at Privet Drive, when all of this started. Maybe an extremely small, definitely-not-called-a-party wouldn't be a bad idea after all; a way to acknowledge not only his birthday, but also everything he'd done to help out around the school and with the Order - though they couldn't exactly announce that last one.

"Ok. I'm in, as long as it's super small and quiet" Harry said, inserting himself back into the conversation, "What do we do first?"

* * *

That afternoon's tutoring lesson was Charms with Hermione. Harry thought it would be an easy lesson seeing as they hadn't had an official Charms class yet and wasn't exactly sure what they could honestly be covering. He should have known the Gryffindor witch would have discussed this exact scenario with the tiny professor, and therefore she came with her arms full of notes for them to go over in preparation for the term.

"You do know I'm not getting graded in any of my classes, right?" Harry asked after seeing it all laid out on the sitting room table.

His friend huffed at him, making him think she hadn't, in fact, known, "Regardless, that doesn't mean you shouldn't put the same effort in."

It was exactly what he thought that meant, but she wouldn't see it that way and so it wasn't worth arguing the point.

"If you put time and energy in now," she continued with a bit of arrogance around her, "think about the grade you could get when you retake the course for real."

_For real._

Those two words hit him hard by implying that the work he was doing wasn't worth anything. Then, they were followed by the proclamation that she wished she could essentially take a practice course before her actual courses because - and he was sure she had some big research to backup her claim - people absorb almost as much new information the second time they hear the material as the first. The young wizard didn't hear where her diatribe ended because he was so focused on the fact that she'd so casually slipped in the fact that she didn't think he was doing real work, either. Completely missing the point of her statement, he only half paid attention to whatever it was she was explaining as she continued talking about their Charms lesson.

"Hermione," he stopped her midway through the lesson, "I can't hold any more information on Charms. M'sorry, but sometimes it's been hard for me to concentrate and remember things."

It wasn't technically a lie as his friends had known about his struggles with the chemotherapy and his memory lately, but that wasn't the case now. The last thing he wanted to think about was his classes.

"What should I get Severus for his birthday?" He'd been questioning that since they started planning the get together; he refused to think of it as a party in an effort not to feel so guilty over it.

"Oh," Hermione looked over the notes on the table, disappointed, "I don't really know, Harry. You spend so much time with him, I'm sure you'll think of something."

That was the problem, he couldn't think of anything that wasn't too obvious. Did the professor really need any more books, especially on potions? Not likely. And Harry didn't know his favorite food or sport, or if he even liked sports. Based on the small snippets of the memories he saw, he could assume the man didn't play Quidditch, but did he enjoy watching it?

"Harry," Hermione touched his arm, causing him to jump at being suddenly brought back into the present.

"Sorry, 'Mione," he replied, "I was lost in my thoughts."

"You do that a lot," she responded with concern that hit Harry the wrong way.

"I've a lot on my mind lately. It's really that simple."

Harry felt his heart lurch at her brown sympathetic eyes watching him. Now that both of his friends were officially dating someone - thankfully not each other like he'd thought they were headed because that would make this whole situation so much harder - they didn't have as much in common anymore. It would only get worse as time went on and unless he said something to them, there was really no way they would know how he was feeling about it all.

"How can I help with that?" She asked it in such a way that he silently wondered if someone told her to ask him that. It was a valid question though; what could she do to help? "I can continue to look into the Horcrux situation. Maybe see if I can find a way to get rid of the soul piece without…"

She was saying all the wrong things that afternoon, but at least this time she had recognized it and stopped herself before finishing that sentence. Harry could give her that much credit at least.

"It's fine," he eventually said, "just because you don't say it, doesn't mean it's not there. I mean, I try not to think about the whole needing to die thing, but it being there is actually helping me right now… it's confusing, really."

It was too convoluted for him to think about given his current mind-space. He had other things to worry about, so having Hermione researching it would not necessarily be a bad thing.

"I'll do whatever I can, Harry," she said calmly.

"That'd be great, 'Mione," he finally said, "let me know if you find anything."

Unfortunately, giving Hermione the task to research more about how to rid a body of an unwanted, stowaway soul without killing the host didn't prevent his mind from thinking about it. Throughout the rest of the day, he found himself in a distant mood. Consciously, he forced himself to have dinner in the Great Hall, but mostly so he could continue planning the not-party for Snape. By the end, they'd decided Lavender, Ron, and Ginny would take care of the location and decorations, leaving Harry, Hermione, and Draco in charge of food and guests. Overall it was a productive planning session, yet it did little to change the Gryffindor's current outlook.

Back home that night, Harry was sitting on his bed in his room looking through all of the pictures of his Mum that Snape had given him for Christmas. After talking to Hermione about his classes and the Horcrux situation in the same afternoon, he thought it would help to push away his sullen mood. When he pulled out the box to look through it, he imagined what his mum would tell him about each picture. Would she tell him about the moments leading up to and just after each one was taken? Try to give him some kind of context of how she was feeling? Could she tell him who took the picture - one of her parents, maybe Aunt Petunia, Snape, or another friend?

He picked up one of the pictures ever so carefully, of Lily around 10 or 11, not exactly sure what about this picture caught his eye. She was sitting on a swing at a park not much different than one he'd go to often in Little Whinging, and for the first time since receiving the gift, he noticed a boy standing off to the side next to another swing on the set. Harry recognized the boy immediately as Snape. The Gryffindor felt the familiar shame as he looked to be unwashed and wearing clothing that was so big and mismatched, Harry would have thought it was deliberate if he didn't intimately understand what it was like when you lived with a family that did not provide your most basic needs; like clothes that fit you. The boy was stringy thin and had a pallid look to him that Harry recognized in himself currently. His anxiety rose thinking about how similar this boy was to the eleven year old wizard that had been living in the cupboard under the stairs in 4 Privet Drive, but at least the latter hadn't been living with his parents; the people who were supposed to care for you and love you. Harry had grown up with those things purposely withheld from him, but given freely to his cousin. Harry got the impression that Snape's family just didn't have them; he had likely grown up in a house where love did not exist at all. Harry wasn't sure which was worse: being denied love that was there or not having it to begin with.

He was brought out of his turbulent thinking by a knock on his door. Expecting Snape to enter after the knock, he waited and was surprised when a second knock came shortly after the first.

"Come in," he called out a little confused by the formality. The professor had seen the Gryffindor at his lowest point, coming in his room after knocking once wasn't out of the norm.

Of course, he was proven wrong again when it was Draco who opened his door, not Snape. The Gryffindor immediately started collecting his pictures - that had been scattered across his bed - as quickly as possible, somehow feeling embarrassed for having been staring at them. What was Draco Malfoy doing in the doorway to his bedroom? Especially at almost nine o'clock at night?

"This used to be Severus's potions storeroom," the Slytherin said, looking around the room at how comfortable Harry had become here. This at least confirmed that the blonde had not been in his bedroom while he wasn't there. "He moved everything to his laboratory and office so you could have this room."

"What are you doing here, Draco?" The Gryffindor flushed a bit from embarrassment over the fact that he was already in his navy blue pyjamas and Draco was still in his Slytherin uniform, drawing attention to the fact that Harry's day had ended long ago while his classmate's wasn't over yet.

"I had a meeting with Severus," he replied, as if that somehow explained to Harry why he was now walking into his bedroom. "This party's a bad idea, isn't it?

The way he'd said it made Harry chuckle, "Yeah, it probably is. Although he seemed to enjoy the Christmas and New Year's Party we had over holiday, so maybe it won't be so awful."

That had apparently been the wrong thing to say. Draco stiffened in the final three steps it took until he was standing over Harry's bed. A scowl flashed across his face so quickly, the Gryffindor wizard wasn't sure he'd actually seen it.

"Who's that?" Draco nodded his head to a picture that had fallen onto the ground when Harry had been trying to feverishly put them away. It was the one of his mum on the swing. "Is that Severus?"

"Erm..." Harry mumbled, hoping the curiosity of the Slytherin would pass, instead that curiosity changed to jealousy.

"Why do you have that?"

Harry picked up the picture in his hands and rubbed his thumb over his mother's small face. Lifting his eyes confidently, he replied, "She's my mum. Did you know her and Severus were friends growing up?"

Draco took a half a step towards the bed and peered at the picture in Harry's hand before asking rather bluntly, "Your mother was a ginger? She looks like she could be a Weasley."

The comment rolled right off Harry's back and he gave the picture a warm smile, "Not everyone with red hair is a Weasley, y'know."

The Slytherin gave a small _**hmph** , _"That's not exactly true in wizarding Britain. I'm pretty sure every red-headed witch or wizard can trace their lineage back to a Weasley."

"Well," Harry started without thinking about his current audience, "my mum was the first witch in her family."

His face fell thinking about what he'd just said and silently scolded himself. It wasn't like the Malfoy heir didn't already know his family's history, it was literally in their history books - Harry tried to avoid reading them - which was really an odd feeling. Hermione, a muggle born witch, knew more about him and his parents than he did when he started at Hogwarts. He was slowly getting the full story, but it wasn't nearly enough. As the last wizarding child in both of his family lines, and all of them dead, he would never know it all. It was a disheartening feeling to realize he'd never get to hear stories of his parents, or grandparents; to know that he was utterly alone. It was true he had Dudley now, in some strange turn of events, but it wasn't the same. Dudley couldn't tell him if his parents lived in Godric's Hollow before they went into hiding - since that was where they were buried, he assumed they did - his muggle cousin couldn't tell him where the name Harry came from and why _just Harry_ instead of Harold or if there were any other names they were considering for him. Did they want a boy or girl? As the last Potter heir, he guessed at least his dad was excited to have a boy, but maybe they'd wanted a girl instead. Were they excited to find out they were having him, even when they were so young and in the middle of a war? Would they have had any other kids? He could feel himself grieving over the two very different lives he could have had: the one with his parents had Voldemort not tried to kill him, and the one with Snape where he eventually died, but seemed to live a happy fulfilled last five years.

"-happened to them?"

Furrowing his brows, the Gryffindor shook his head to clear his head from his intrusive thoughts.

"What are you talking about? Everyone knows what happened to my parents," Harry replied, completely not amused by the question from the blonde.

"Not your parents, you prat!" Draco called out. "Severus and you mother. What happened to them?"

"Oh. It's the opposite of you and Hermione, actually," Harry felt his ears heat up over the comparison and then questioned if he should say anything at all. It wasn't his story to tell, so he simply left it at that; the Slytherin could interpret that how he'd like. "What did you meet with Severus about tonight?"

The air around them shifted yet again and it became obvious that neither boy really knew how to talk to one another about the things most important in their lives. Would they be able to form some kind of friendship - outside of dating his best friend - when it seemed they both had more in common then they ever thought possible?

"It's really none of your business, Potter."

Harry simply sighed. No, they definitely weren't at friendship level yet.

~~~~SS~~~~

"I'm pulling you out," Severus told the blonde across from him on Monday evening sitting in his office with Draco.

"What?!" His Slytherin student said indignantly and expectantly. "You can't do that! What the hell am I going to do? What about my mother?!"

Those were all questions he'd anticipated, though he didn't have all the answers. Draco stood and started pacing the office as he ran his hands through his platinum blonde hair. His eyes were fueled with anger and likely the feeling of failure; it's what Severus would feel in his position after all.

"Professor Dumbledore is working in your exit strategy," he calmly answered. "All I know at the moment is that you will go into hiding with Narcissa and preferably Lucius, however that's only if we can confirm he will not put your life at risk. This is not because you're not doing your job well. It's that you've been given a task you cannot complete without bringing harm to yourself. I refuse to let that happen."

A long silence followed his announcement of the basic framework to their plan. It wasn't nearly enough information to ease the teen's anxiety over his future, but it would have to do.

"When?"

"By Easter you'll be safe," he said. Without a full timeline in place yet, the former spy was hesitant to say anything at all, but there was something in the grey eyes staring back at him that made him proceed. "You need to know that should you be summoned prior to your departure from the school, you must go about business as usual."

"It's not fair," the Slytherin teen complained, not unlike how Harry had presented the same sentiment only four days ago.

"It never is," Severus repeated. "But Draco, I promise you that you will not have to do this task."

"You know? I didn't _ask_ for any of this," the blonde's pacing increased with each passing second and Severus didn't miss the flex in the child's left forearm. No, he didn't ask for this anymore than Harry asked to be targeted by the Dark Lord or the cancer. It wasn't fair, but knew that life rarely was. For the first time in several months, he questioned if he'd made the right choice in coming to this world. Who knew where they would have ended up back in his old reality, but from in his current position, this was definitely not where he expected any of them to be.

* * *

Severus could tell something was going on with Harry, but no matter which angle he tried to ask from, the Gryffindor wouldn't give him any information to go from. His school work seemed to be going well, despite the earlier proclamation that he didn't want to continue this term, he appeared healthy, even if he was a bit anxious for his last round of phase two chemotherapy on Monday and Tuesday, and he appeared to be sleeping and eating well, though that was Severus's observation as asking the young wizard would be futile. No, whatever was going on with the teen had him distracted, but not necessarily in a bad way. For the last two days, he'd been out at the library - far too often for the first week of term to be only studying - or Gryffindor tower most of the day and evening, not returning until long after dinner. Adding in the fact that he knew Draco stopped by his bedroom before leaving after their talk Monday night, left the professor with a very suspicious mind.

Wednesday morning's sixth year defense class was the perfect example of the young wizard's odd change of disposition, specifically in how it related to his magic and classwork. They would be finishing up their duels and he'd fully expected Harry to sit there sulking over the fact that he couldn't participate; especially given the fact that only three days ago they had their own pseudo-duel between them, he'd expected to hear something from the teen about it. Instead, Harry was seated at his desk along the side of the classroom cheering on the contender he hoped to win in each specific match: Nott versus Parkinson, Malfoy versus Finnegan, and Nott versus Granger, until finally as everyone had already expected, the final match was Malfoy versus Granger. Severus almost stepped in and cancelled the duel seeing as the two contenders were dating, however he didn't want to draw any unwanted attention to that fact, so he let it continue. He already disapproved of Draco's blatant flaunting of his relationship with the Gryffindor witch, who happened to be one of the best friends of the Dark Lord's mortal enemy. It was an extremely dangerous relationship, however given the new exit strategy in place he would let his Slytherin enjoy the time he had with his girlfriend before being forced into hiding.

Severus watched as both opponents prepared on their respective sides of the classroom, each with an aura that could not be any further from the other - the Gryffindor side encouraging and supportive compared to the Slytherin side that was scowling and threatening.

To her credit, Hermione didn't hold back one bit even though she was facing her boyfriend. He had no idea what the Gryffindor witch's plans were after Hogwarts, but she would make a fine Auror if that was the direction she wanted to go. Her movements were swift, she had a large repertoire of spells - both offensive and defensive - and she didn't stand down from a possibly imbalanced opponent. Severus, as well as the rest of the class, very much enjoyed watching their spell work staying on top of one other tic-for-tac. Draco did not disappoint even though he was fighting against his girlfriend, to Severus's approval. Part of Defense Against the Dark Arts meant staying focused no matter who it was you were fighting. The first war had torn apart families - the Black brothers for example - and you had to be able to stay just as focused when you found yourself fighting against a former friend as you would against a foe.

It took roughly twenty minutes of colorful blasts dancing around the room, papers and other materials flying across the desks from the displacement of the air around them, and constant booms between the two duelers before Draco finally got the upper hand. Whether it was an accident or planned to throw the witch's rhythm off, when Hermione instinctively blocked after sending a leg locker jinx - that was blocked, but not reflected back as he likely should have done - Draco did not attack back. That non-action caused not only confusion to cross the Gryffindor's face, but she dropped her shield two seconds earlier than she normally held it for, giving Draco the perfect opportunity to send a stinging hex her way.

"That's the match!" Severus called, moving to stand between the two. Hermione wasn't completely out, however it was the first real offensive spell to make it through to either of them and he feared how much worse it could get if he continued to let it go on.

There was an expected uproar from the Gryffindors over the technical-loss and the Slytherins gave a haughty cheer. It was by far his best first week of term class he'd ever conducted, made all the better by Harry's huge smile.

By Wednesday night, Severus was in the sitting room going over his lesson plans for the following week. Harry had chemotherapy on Monday and Tuesday, and with it being the last round before Phase Three started on the 25th, he needed to be home on Monday to meet with Dr. Swanson. That left him with finding someone - in this case Tonks as Minerva was unable to assist this time - to take over his classes, and the more detailed notes he could provide the Auror, the easier the next class would be for him to decipher. He was midway through his fourth year lesson plan when Harry finally returned home, still dressed in his Gryffindor uniform, but with his robe haphazardly thrown over his shoulder pinned down by his school bag.

"Hey, Severus," the young wizard called out as he passed by the sitting room, and headed towards his bedroom.

"Wait a minute," he replied before Harry could slink away too quickly, "take a seat."

The nervous energy surrounding the teenager was so thick, he was surprised Harry had been able to move. It only added to the theories running through his head. The young wizard unceremoniously dropped his bag and his robe onto the floor before dramatically throwing himself down onto the sofa across from Severus.

"Where were you?" He asked, deciding that getting straight to the point was probably the best option.

Harry's green eyes shifted back and forth, a telltale sign he was trying to think - likely of a lie - quickly, "I was at the library."

The professor squinted his eyes at the Gryffindor, wishing they hadn't spent so long going through his Occlumency lessons. While he could still read every emotion right from Harry's face, it was getting more difficult to do as he progressed in their lessons. In fact, Severus wasn't sure if he was actually reading the emotion that was sitting there or if he simply knew this child well enough now to know what he was feeling. Either way, right now he knew Harry was nervous and he was guilty; of what, he wanted to find out.

"And had I gotten your exceedingly helpful, and likely illegal, map out and checked it," he challenged, "would I have seen you in the library?"

The Gryffindor's mouth fell open, "You didn't?! How do you even..." Harry trailed off as he put the pieces together that Severus knew from his old reality how to work the Marauder's Map. "Seriously, did you look at it?"

"I did not," the former spy admitted, "but had I looked, would you have been in the library?"

Fumbling with the hem of his vest, Harry didn't respond. That in itself was telling. Where could he have been, and with whom, that would require this much secrecy. Deciding to take a guess at something to help move this along, he started with the worst.

"Were you elsewhere with Miss Lovegood, perhaps?"

Harry's entire face turned a bright, vibrant red as he yelled almost too emphatically, "No! It's nothing like that!"

Severus still was not completely convinced. Though he knew Harry and Luna attended Slughorn's Christmas Party as friends, Harry's disposition was too shifty for him to be wrong about something going on.

"Miss Weasley then?" He suggested

"I wasn't with a girl," Harry spat back, his eyes pleading for the conversation to quickly end.

"Then perhaps a boy?" He was brought back to a similar conversation from Yule Ball back in his old reality. The déjà vu had been happening more frequently and it was exceedingly concerning to him; no, it absolutely terrified him.

"Oh Merlin, I can't do this!" Harry threw his hands up on the air. "I was at the kitchens with Draco because we're planning a…" Harry furrowed his brows appearing to try to find the right word while still appearing uncomfortable with the conversation, "...small celebration… for your birthday tomorrow. I'm not out doing whatever it is you're thinking I'm doing… with either a girl or a boy."

To say Severus was shocked would be an understatement. In the back of his mind, he did know it was his 37th birthday tomorrow, but even in his old reality it had gone more or less unnoticed; a simple dinner in their quarters with Harry and that was it. Building on top of that was the fact that he'd never told Harry when his birthday was here, so that only meant-

"Draco told you about my birthday, didn't he?" The former spy asked.

Harry's sheepishly looked up and nodded. He appeared so innocent, just a child trying to plan a birthday… whatever it was - no matter how comfortable he'd gotten around others, he refused to call it a party; small children had birthday parties, not grown men who were once Death Eaters. Though the image of these two boys - both simultaneously lost in their own lives and thrust together into a pseudo-friendship - getting together to plan a celebration for him was both heartwarming and hilarious. In fact, he couldn't stop himself when he started to chuckle.

"It was Lavender's idea," Harry added with a tinge of fear in his voice.

"I'll be sure to remember that, whenever this not-party is," it was said as a question to which Harry instantly picked up.

"Down here tomorrow night, after dinner," the young wizard closed one of his eyes as if he were preparing to be yelled at.

"I'm not angry, Harry," the professor explained. "Quite relieved in fact that we don't have a different type of conversation I was not looking forward to having."

Again, Harry's face flushed, "I'm good there, sir. Really, that conversation has been taken care of."

Severus silently wondered who had that conversation with the young wizard - his guess was likely Arthur Weasley - but quickly determined it didn't make much difference. Neither of them wanted to go down that road. In fact, he didn't really want to know what this not-birthday-party entailed either, so he chose to change the subject to one that was more agreeable to the both of them.

"What are your thoughts on Draco's triumph in defense class?"

The tactic worked as expected and Harry's guard came down. "He won on a technicality," the Gryffindor said, giving a small, sarcastic laugh and then with a sense of confidence, bordering on arrogance, he added, "He's lucky I wasn't able to compete, otherwise he wouldn't have stood a chance when he hesitated that last spell."

* * *

He woke up on the morning of his 37th birthday pondering the question of if he were technically 37 or 38 years old. Since he'd gone back in time when he came over to this reality - something he also noted he thought about so casually now, as if it were normal for people to wake up in a whole new world - this would be the second time he's celebrating his 37th birthday. As he brushed his teeth that morning and prepared for his classes before going with Harry up to the Great Hall for breakfast, that thought was zigzagging throughout his brain. It was infinitely better than the thought of whatever it was Draco and Harry had planned for tonight, including who would be given entry to his intentionally kept secret quarters, so he continued to feed it. Ultimately, he'd decided that while he obviously remembered celebrating his last 37th birthday, since his body was from this reality he was still only 37, though it would be something he'd likely think about every birthday until he died. One does not simply forget that you time traveled, no matter how many years passed by.

Most of the day was a quiet affair, just as he preferred it, with only select staff wishing him well on the day. It was simply a day like any other, or at least it would have been if he didn't already know what was going on and have context for Lavender Brown's constant bouncing whenever he saw her in the corridors or in the Great Hall. Harry, though, genuinely looked happy and he had all week since this "event planning" started, giving Severus a real view of what the young wizard had been missing since all of his cancer treatments started. This would only make the upcoming phase so much harder on them, and the professor was both preparing and dreading when Harry fully understood what was coming up. Trying to live in the moment, he pushed the future hardships ahead of them aside in his mind to focus on the day; his birthday.

Severus lowered his guard around dinner, by which time it appeared that the only people involved in this "event" were Harry and his friends, plus Dudley, Draco, and Lavender. It would put one extra person - Miss Brown who had a difficult time keeping secrets to herself - in his quarters than he wanted, but he convinced himself he could quickly get out of it, thus leaving the teenagers to their "not-party". Unsurprisingly, all of the expected perpetrators left dinner from the Great Hall early. He'd purposefully delayed as long as possible hoping they'd give up and come back, however as the dinner hour came to an end, he had no choice but to go back to his dungeon quarters.

"Severus," he was saved by Minerva calling him as he was standing from the head table.

He turned towards her and was met with a concerning expression across her face. His stomach dropped in anticipation to what she had to tell him; whatever it was would not be good.

"I'm afraid there's been a development with the old crowd," she said rather gravely, "let's go talk in my office where I can ensure our privacy."

This wasn't good. He knew Harry was waiting for him in the dungeons and even if he didn't necessarily want the "non-party", he hated to let the Gryffindor down, especially after being as excited as he had been with it. But the only piece he was waiting on from the Order was information on Draco's exit strategy; specifically of Narcissa's role with it and he needed to be aware of any changes that may have come up. If she wasn't willing to go with her son, Severus would have a bloody difficult time convincing the blonde to go into hiding alone. If that were the case, he would have to find a way for himself and Harry to go with - a suggestion he would have made outright if it weren't for Harry's chemotherapy. Once he was in the Maintenance phase, he would spend the next three years having treatments monthly plus taking daily chemotherapy tablets that would need to get refilled regularly, therefore making it nearly impossible to go into full hiding with the blonde Slytherin. He was lost in his thoughts, trying to make contingency plans for his contingency plans as they rounded the corridor to Minerva's office.

The former spy should not have been taken by surprise, but he was. When the door to Minerva's office opened, he shook his head upon seeing the inside of her office filled with balloons that changed colors in a rapid-fire rhythm and others that had small fireworks inside of them; no doubt from the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes stock. Across the top of the room, where Minerva's desk usually sat, was a banner that was written hastily in green paint - a little too reminiscent of the Chamber of Secrets messages for his liking - that read _Happy Birthday Severus_. He could have sworn there was evidence of an exclamation point after his name, which someone had tried to remove with magic. On the side of the room, where Minerva's desk was now located was a cake shaped like a lopsided gold cauldron; likely Draco's contribution as any other person would have chosen the traditional black.

Then in front of him was Harry, standing there, proud of himself that he'd managed to pull this off without the professor going off in a fury of rage. Without even thinking of the group consisting of his colleagues and students surrounding them, forgetting the time and place they were in, he walked up to the young wizard, and gave him a hug.

"Harry birthday, Severus," the Gryffindor said. "You really do deserve to celebrate tonight."

And so they celebrated, with Harry and his friends, Draco, Dudley, Minerva, Albus, Lupin and Tonks, and Molly and Arthur. It was a small gathering, still more people than he usually preferred to be around, yet he was comfortable in the group. As the night went on there was music, a selection of food, drinks, and then cake. Harry had gotten him a set of his favorite specialty coffee, and he'd received a set of crystal tumblers from Draco that from any other student would be slightly inappropriate, however he'd known Draco since the blonde was born and somehow that made it alright. The gifts were completely unexpected and much appreciated, but it was the meaning behind those two gifts, and the entire party as a whole, which almost unraveled him. He watched Harry and Draco, the two boys he was mentoring - unofficially and officially respectively - and was overcome with the gratitude to have them in his life. While coming to this reality had created its own set of challenges, he ultimately was truly happy for probably the first time in this version of his life.

For that night, he committed to enjoying himself surrounded by the people he had fought for, fought beside, and people he would - at least in the case of the adults - call his friends. In the end, it didn't take much convincing and the non-party he had planned to quickly slip out of the first moment possible, turned into a party he thoroughly enjoyed that lasted until a quarter to curfew. It was a night where he was able to put aside the many burdens he was always carrying around with him, even if only temporarily. He wasn't working on a plan for Draco's escape from the Dark Lord's clutches, he wasn't thinking about how impossible it was going to be for him to manage his classes during Harry's next phase of chemotherapy, and he wasn't searching for a way to release the Dark Lord's soul fragment from within the Gryffindor. He was simply enjoying the company of those around him; something he was immensely appreciative of even if he hadn't recognized it until that moment.

"Do you feel a year older?" Harry asked, as the pair were on their way back home just after curfew.

"Actually," Severus analytically said, "I feel a year younger."

Harry stopped walking for a second as he pondered that statement, then started laughing for no reason apparent to the professor. It continued as he made the final short walk up to their door, his contagious laughter echoing off the stone walls and into their home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Back to Square One


	58. Back to Square One

~~~~HP~~~~

**_Monday 13, January 1997_ **

Harry had done his best to stay focused on his first week of term, but with Snape's birthday non-party planning, the fact that he knew he wasn't graded for his classes floating around in the back of his mind, and his last round of his Phase Two of consolidation starting, he failed miserably at it. So much so, that if he didn't try to get at least some of his essays done during his chemotherapy today and tomorrow, he would officially be considered behind on his already delayed work, and he didn't even want to think about what Snape would do then. Trying to conceal his work was also proving difficult because the professor had taken the morning off, drawing more attention to the fact that he was working on his assignments even before his doctor had arrived.

As he sat on the sofa in the sitting room, his right leg was bouncing from his fraying nerves in anticipation for this treatment, making his handwriting even harder than normal to read. At this point, he considered simply skipping the assignments he'd missed and giving it no further thought, but he couldn't do that and so now he had that worry on top of his anxiety over his latest round of chemo. For some reason, he was also thinking about Dr Swanson. This would be his first time seeing the doctor since his treatment on the 14th of December, a whole month ago, and now she'd be here not only to set his chemo up, but also to go over the next phase. While his feelings towards the muggle doctor hadn't changed drastically, he did find he wasn't feeling nearly as hostile towards her either. He'd prefer if she were magical, but now that he knew he would likely be left with some kind of magic when this was finished, it didn't bother him nearly as much as it used to. In fact, he'd found that without the animosity he'd held towards her before, she was actually very knowledgeable about what he was going through; so much so that he questioned if she had intimately known someone with cancer in her past.

"Why did you become an oncologist?" He asked her once she arrived and was setting up his first IV of chemo medication that morning. Snape was sitting in his armchair working on what looked like essay marking and lifted his head after Harry's question. "Sorry, what I mean is-"

"It's alright, Harry," she politely responded, "I get that a lot. Not many people want to work with kids that have potentially terminal illnesses, which is why I thought they needed as much help as possible. When it came time to choose my specialty, it was just something I was drawn to."

Harry nodded and decided that answer was good enough. If she didn't want to offer any other details, he didn't want to pry for them.

"Were you and your brother close before he started at Hogwarts?" He found himself asking. "My mum was muggleborn, like your brother, but I grew up with her sister, my aunt, after my parents died."

He flushed with embarrassment, unsure why he was asking her about her life growing up. Sure, he'd been curious if other siblings of muggleborns were as jealous as Aunt Petunia was, but this really wasn't the time or place for it. He blamed it purely on whatever was going on with his mind lately.

"We didn't really get on well before we found out he was a wizard," she started, giving him her full attention, which Harry found he very much appreciated, "but we grew closer as the years went on. I think some distance helped us greatly."

_So it was the opposite of Aunt Petunia._

Averting his eyes away from Snape's questioning stare, he looked down at his port and watched as Dr. Swanson flushed it before inserting the specialty needle used specifically for the port. It had been less than a year - only six and a half months actually - and he found he rarely noticed the button that stuck up from his collarbone anymore. It no longer stung when he rolled over onto it when sleeping, and even when he showered he didn't notice when his soapy hand that ran across it. Now it was just a part of him, no different than his nose or ears. No one else would know it was there or have seen it either with his uniform on, as well as with most of his pyjama tops, especially because most were so loose on him. It was just something that was there until this battle was behind him and he had started thinking about if he would get it removed when he had that option, once all of this was over. Healer Smithe said some patients choose to leave it so they didn't have to go through another procedure to get it removed. Back in July that seemed unlikely, however now he could see the merit of letting it continue to sit under his skin; when he would be removed from the last chemotherapy IV, it would be freeing to literally walk away from it all. That was the image he held on to when all of this became too overwhelming.

To discuss Phase Three, Dr. Swanson required that Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall be present. They had all been there for his other treatment schedules - like his own personal entourage because he had no other family - so it shouldn't have made him nervous, except the seriousness in her voice made his stomach jumble even before the chemo started. So by the time Madam Pomfrey returned with his guardian, the young wizard had worked himself almost into a panic attack questioning what would be coming up to require the other two witches present. Professor McGonagall sat directly next to Harry, giving his shoulder a squeeze of support, on the sofa with Madam Pomfrey on the far side, leaving Dr. Swanson the chair across from Snape.

"Starting on the 25th you'll enter the last phase of Consolidation chemotherapy," Dr. Swanson said matter-of-factly, jumping straight into the second purpose of her visit. Harry always loved hearing that he was entering a new phase. It made him feel like all that he'd gone through was actually doing something besides just making him sick, and that he was making some kind of progress. She handed out several pieces of paper to everyone around the sitting room as she continued her explanation of what to expect, "It's also known as Delayed Intensification and it is more or less another induction and first consolidation phase, but with a couple of new medications. All in total, this phase will last eight weeks."

"So I'm starting back at square one?" Harry asked, defeated, with an ache that settled deep within his chest when he read through the different medications and their intervals. Phase One of consolidation was by far his worst - having wanted, almost begged, to give up so many times during it - followed closely by induction, so to have eight weeks of both of those was something he was already dreading. How would he manage through all that pain again?

"This is the last push until Maintenance," she said to him, but her body was turned towards Snape, "you have eight weeks and then you'll be in the easiest part."

He didn't care if it were only two weeks, those weeks were going to be absolute hell.

"I've reviewed your file from induction and consolidation one," she continued when Harry didn't offer any further insight into what he was thinking, "I know you had a bad reaction physically, and magically to it, so knowing that, there's definitely some things we can do to try to help you out.

"For one, I'll be starting you back on the stronger morphine drip before and during each treatment. You'll have to do it through a normal IV, but hopefully that will alleviate much of the magical core pain you had experienced the last time. If not, we can always adjust the dosage or medication as often as you need. Being a direct pediatric oncologist, instead of an intermediary like Dr. Smithe was, I have access to a wider range of medications to help get you through this. You will get through this, Harry. Trust me."

He didn't trust her, even though he had no real reason not to. It wasn't like she'd lied to him in the past, if anything she'd been more honest with him than Healer Smithe ever was. It was simply because he'd been doing chemotherapy treatments for almost seven months now and none of them ever went as planned, and they had all been painful. Still, he chose not to say anything and only nodded his understanding.

"I'd also like to get you back on the nasogastric tube today," she said to him, "and restart the supplemental nutrients. Starting you out as strong as possible will also make dealing with the side effects more manageable for you."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence that enveloped the whole sitting room, and Harry could feel four pairs of eyes on him, as he hadn't actually responded since his declaration that this felt like he was starting back at the beginning. The doctor was obviously waiting for Harry's affirmation, and likely his consent, to place the feeding tube back in today.

"Ok," he mumbled, staring down at his fingers that were laced together. What else was he supposed to say to that? He'd try just about anything so he didn't feel as awful as he did last time and if this is what his doctor was suggesting, could he really argue about it? "What can I expect with the new schedule?"

Dr. Swanson drew everyone's attention to the schedule she'd handed out that listed the days, procedure - IT, IV, Tablets, or all of the above - as she entered into her doctor-lecture-mode and Harry was certain it was a skill every medical professional had, "This phase is really split into three weeks, a one week break, then two weeks, and two weeks to get to your eight total weeks.

"On the first three Saturdays, you'll have an IV treatment with two medications of an hour each. For the first week, you'll also have an IT on that Saturday, plus you'll have a new IV medication on Tuesday the 28th, that one will be three hours on its own. Then, in addition to the IV's you'll start a chemotherapy tablet regimen that consists of three tablets a day, everyday in the first and third week. You'll want to take these with food and before 6 o'clock in the evening otherwise they do tend to cause patients to have trouble sleeping. And of course you'll stay on all the prophylactic tablets you're already taking."

Harry was feeling absolutely overwhelmed by the way she rattled through it all and, luckily, Snape could tell. How was it possible that he'd just really gotten a good grip on the every ten days and now it was completely switching again? Plus, he'd be adding more tablets to his plethora of them to take each day. The only good part of it was that it appeared like most of his IV treatments would be on Saturdays, giving him time to recover before his classes started again, unlike the current phase where it rotated throughout the week.

"I'll handle the schedule and your tablets, Harry, and let you know each week what is coming up," Snape reassured him, then he turned back to the doctor, "What can he expect in terms of side effects in the first three weeks?"

"Much of the same," Dr. Swanson referenced the other sheet she handed out. It was a list of each medication and the side effects he could experience, "your white blood cell and platelet counts will likely drop again from two of the medications, so you'll be quarantining during this entire phase, then there's the normal nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, mouth sores, and nerve pain which are all things you've seen previously. Irritability, stomach ulcers, and difficulty sleeping are the new side effects you could see specifically from the tablet medication."

"Lovely," Harry mumbled. Sleeping had become difficult lately, but mostly because of everything on his mind. Now he could have another reason to be awake all hours of the night.

"After those three weeks, you'll get a full week off from the 15th of February to the 21st, if everything stays on schedule," Dr. Swanson gave Harry a smile, like this was some kind of prize to him. "That means no IVs, no IT, and no tablets outside of the prophylactics. I hope not to see you at all during that time."

Harry really hoped so too and he was about to get excited at the prospect of a full week off until he remembered a key detail about chemotherapy. Odds were that if he had a break, it was to help his blood counts either rebound from a bad round or build up in preparation for a future worse round. He feared it would be the latter of those.

"After that week, we'll start the repeat of consolidation starting on the 22nd," Dr. Swanson cautiously said. At this, Harry audibly groaned. "You'll do four days of IV chemotherapy starting with an IT and IV of two medications, a one-hour followed by a four hour, on Saturday for five total hours. Then on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday you'll have one four-hour IV. You get Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to recover before that same sequence repeats again on the next Saturday thru Tuesday. We'll also be swapping to a different chemotherapy tablet daily through that entire two week period. Since these are the same medications you had in phase one of consolidation, I have a feeling you're aware of those side effects?"

"Yeah," Harry gravely stated, ignoring Snape's overly concerned glare, "It's the hell weeks again. I could never forget those two weeks."

"Unfortunately, those do tend to be the hardest," Dr. Swanson validated his sentiment, making Harry feel a little bit better that it wasn't just him that hated that combination of medications, "unfortunately, all of those medications, including the tablet one, will negatively affect your white blood cell and platelet counts, so I am going to require you to be in hard quarantine for that time frame, given that you live in a boarding school. That means no tutoring, since you won't be in classes anyways, limited visitors and when you do have visitors they, and you, will need to be masked on top of the already implemented full hand washing and sanitizing procedures. I'll work with Professor Snape to make sure your quarters are up to the right standards before you even start those weeks. I saw that you had pneumonia early on in consolidation and I don't want a repeat of that."

He didn't either, however all of that sounded absolutely awful. Harry didn't want to complain out loud in the current company, so he kept that statement to himself. If it were just him and Snape, he probably would have said something; in fact, he still might tell the professor how much he didn't want to do this later, when they were alone.

"The last two weeks," Harry was happy to hear those words from his doctor, "will be relatively easy as you prepare to enter the Maintenance phase. It will be an IV of two medications on the first Saturday, the 8th of March, which is a one hour followed by a three hour, and then the following Saturday is only a one hour IV. That last one is the same medication you've had since the beginning, Vincristine, and the one that you will continue to do monthly in Maintenance."

She stopped and waited for someone to say something, most likely Harry, but after these seven months he really didn't have much to add about it. This was going to be bad, there literally was no way to sugar coat it, if he wanted to. He'd be quarantined for at least eight weeks not even being able to have his tutoring lessons for two of those weeks, which would be difficult.

"What about my magic?" He asked with a tremble to his voice that matched the one in his hands. It was a silly question with everything else going on, but one he felt was important and he preferred to think about instead of how much this felt like he was starting over.

"We'll discuss how to handle that another time," Snape replied, making it sound like the man didn't want to discuss it in the current company. "As for the rest of it, we'll do everything we can to make this as comfortable as possible for you."

The dread filled him up inside. Everyone knew all the words to say, yet no one could really understand how he felt. A muggle cancer patient going through chemotherapy didn't have to deal with the magical core pain, and a magical patient didn't have the soul fragment from Voldemort messing things up. It was like he didn't fit anywhere; his identity was completely independent and therefore no one could say for sure what would or would not help him. So he did what he always did and nodded, trying not to make eye contact with anyone else in the room, but feeling all of their eyes watching him intently.

~~~~SS~~~~

He was worried about Harry; every adult in that room was when everything was said and done. After hearing Dr. Swanson go over what Phase Three would entail - most of which Severus had known, though the fact that he could not attend tutoring during the two rougher weeks, was new to even him - the young Gryffindor was visibly shaken up and trying to hold himself together. Severus had only planned on missing his morning classes, eliciting the help from Lupin to come keep an eye on Harry since the werewolf was in the castle today, however after seeing Harry's reaction he quickly decided to take the rest of the day off.

Once the chemotherapy was completed, and Harry's feeding tube placed once again, the Gryffindor went off to this room with his sphere just in case he needed any help. The last round of treatment had hit Harry unexpectedly hard and the professor assumed this one would be much of the same and he wanted to be ready to help in any way he could.

"Do you need anything, Severus?" Minerva asked. "I can take over for a couple of your classes for tomorrow's treatment if you need me to."

"I'll be just fine, Minerva," he dismissed her worry, then feeling guilty over the cold reaction when she'd been so helpful, he added, "Can you help me keep a close eye on Harry? I have a feeling this will be a particularly bad phase for him."

"I picked up on that," she nodded as she'd said it, "and of course I'll keep a close eye on him. I'm going to see Albus to get his new tutoring ready, I'll keep you updated on what we decide."

"Thank you. I'd appreciate it if you could please ask Albus to floo in when you're done," he replied. "And might I suggest an easier schedule for Harry this time around. I'll leave the details to you, but he'll need something to engage his mind without completely overwhelming him."

"I completely agree," she stood and reached for the schedule of Harry's upcoming treatments. "I'll send Albus down when we're through."

The Defense Professor held his own sphere tightly in his left hand - his lifeline to how the young wizard in the other room was doing - on his way to the kitchen to grab lunch for himself and a smoothie for Harry. As he made the enriched meal supplement, he thought about how differently they were handling this phase, mostly due to the fact that as an Oncologist, Dr. Swanson paid slightly more attention to Harry's overall comfort. Between the stricter quarantine rules, extra pain medication, and the supplemental nutrients starting ten days before phase three, he hoped it would give Harry the extra boost he needed to make it through the next phase.

He lightly knocked on the Gryffindor's door and was surprised when no answer came. It hadn't exactly been long enough since chemotherapy ended for Harry to be asleep yet, but just in case he opened the door slowly, not wanting to wake him. The young wizard was not in his bed - although based on the textbooks lying open on the bedspread he had been working on his assignments - nor was he anywhere else in the moderately sized bedroom. That only left the attached lavatory, where he heard the start of retching coming from the other side of the door. How many rounds of treatment had he gone through already? And yet it didn't make this process any easier almost seven months in compared to the first day he'd found the teen on the floor of the lavatory in Privet Drive.

Carefully opening the door, so as not to accidentally hit Harry since he didn't know where the young wizard would end up after his vomiting, he peeked into the room and found him leaning over the loo breathing heavily. The professor kneeled beside the teen and rubbed small circles around his lower back, a move that he knew helped relax Harry even if they had never actually talked about it.

"I don't know how I'm going to make it through the next phase," Harry said, simultaneously closing his eyes and leaning back against Severus until they were sitting side by side against the back wall beside the door leading back to Harry's room. The Gryffindor rested his head against the professor's shoulder and the older wizard tried not to worry over the shaking in the body beside his own. Drawing his wand, he summoned Harry's red blanket and draped it on top of his frail body.

"There's nothing I can tell you that will make this any easier," he replied honestly, having decided that there was no way he would lie to Harry through this process. "What I ask is that you try to remember that this is temporary, no matter what's coming, you will get through it. Keep reminding yourself that once you finish the next phase it will get easier, far easier than even this phase was. Please try to keep that in the forefront of your mind going into the next eight or nine weeks."

He felt Harry's head nod in the crook of his arm, "What about my magic? I thought I'd be going back to class and able to use it again."

Things were starting to add up a little more now. Harry was not only dealing with the anxiety of the return of the difficult chemotherapy, but also the fact that since he'd learned of the block, he had envisioned a time when he could be back at classes and using his magic. Now he knew that wouldn't happen and he was mourning that loss. Deciding that the cold lavatory floor was not the best place to have this conversation, he helped Harry up off the floor and back into his bedroom, wandlessly moving the school work to the desk, so he could get comfortable in bed.

"You are sure you want to attempt to protect the block?" He asked. "There's no guarantee this will work, but by utilizing your magic you _will_ deplete your primary core at an expedited rate."

Severus needed to make sure Harry was fully aware of the risks involved before they continued down that path. He'd done everything possible to have as many answers as he could to make an informed decision, but there was always a chance that he had been wrong. If that were the case and Harry intentionally drained his magical core, ending up as a squid, he didn't even want to think about how that would alter their relationship.

"Yes," Harry replied as confidently as he had that night in the hospital wing after the potion accident. "I have to try something, otherwise I'll always question it. I pretty much signed up for this knowing I'd lose my magic anyway, so it's not too much of a risk in my mind."

"Very insightful," the professor replied. "Then my suggestion is that you utilize your magic around our quarters, sparingly, during the next phase. That's to say if you need something from another room, you may use your wand to summon it, boil water, light the fireplace, that level of magic, and of course you can use it during your tutoring with your professors only. I'll keep a close watch on how it's going, especially as you get closer to the two rough weeks. If things go as planned, you shouldn't see any accidental magic or the black substance this time around."

Harry looked nervous, "And if I do?"

"Then we'll handle it just as we always do."

* * *

Severus stayed in Harry's room until the teenager finally fell asleep sometime after four o'clock in the afternoon. In that time between taking breaks for Harry to sick up, they managed to play some chess, the teen tried to work on his assignments to which Severus told him to stop because he was having too hard of a time focusing, and Harry did some sketching, this time allowing Severus to see his art as he was making it. Eventually, Harry had fallen asleep, still clutching his notebook, and Severus laid him in the bed arranging the bed covers around him.

It had already felt like a long day when he walked out into his sitting room - his arms full of soiled linens he intended to send for cleaning because after all this time, he knew a cleaning charm was never enough to get the acidic smell of vomit out of them - when he saw Albus sitting in the armchair on the right, reading through the professor's lesson plans for next week. He had no one to blame but himself for this current intrusion of his privacy. He had asked Minerva to have Albus stop by, nevertheless that was before the day he'd just had.

"Looks like you have an exciting week planned," the headmaster announced placing the lesson plan back down on the sitting room table in front of him. "Minerva came to see me this afternoon regarding Harry's schedule over the next two months or so. It seems he'll need to go back to tutoring?"

Severus placed the soiled linens into the floo and sent them away to the laundry before settling into the armchair across from Albus.

"That is correct," he confirmed, "Harry will need to be quarantined again from the 25th until mid-March, possibly the beginning of April, depending on how his blood counts end up."

"As I told Minerva, we can keep the same course schedule as he previously had," Albus's blue eyes weren't sparkling; they rarely did these days and Severus wondered what was going on outside of Harry and the Order to cause that. What else was happening within the school to cause such a reaction?

"He needs a lighter schedule, Albus, just enough to keep his mind occupied." It wasn't stated as a request. This was the reality of the situation the young wizard was living in; he would not be able to withstand two tutoring sessions per day, plus evening classes again. Taking a calculated risk Severus then added, "I need a lighter schedule as well."

The older wizard didn't speak immediately, but could be seen thinking through the two requests that had been made to him. Although the headmaster knew all about how he'd come to be there - a conversation that felt like it was too long ago - it still had to be an odd sight to see him and Harry together. Given what he knew from his counterpart's memories, to everyone else it would seem impossible and if he were honest, he was surprised he hadn't been accused of making the child sick.

"How much more flexibility do you need, my boy?"

"As much as you can allow me," he figured he would ask for as much as he could and settle for whatever the headmaster would give him. At the end of the day, the older wizard would have to justify to the Board of Governors why he was staying at the castle without maintaining his teaching post. It was possible, he knew from last year's debacle, but it wouldn't be easy.

"Are there no others that can care for Harry?" Albus squinted his eyes knowingly behind his half-moon spectacles. "It's not healthy for the burden to fall solely on yourself. Perhaps Minerva could be of some assistance or Molly Weasley?"

"It's not the same," he answered honestly. "I'll do what you need me to do, but I would like to be with Harry as much as possible…"

The defense professor trailed off as the now common déjà vu hit him. This was too close to the conversation he'd had with the Albus from his old reality when Harry's cancer had become terminal. He'd requested as much time off as he could get, and ended up completely dropping all of his classes in the end. Refusing to make the obvious connection between the two situations, he found himself questioning if the Albus of this reality would be as generous.

"If you feel comfortable keeping the N.E.W.T courses, I could ask Tonks if she would continue to cover the lower years," his employer suggested. Outside of being excused from all of his courses, this was an ideal situation. He wouldn't have to coordinate days and lesson plans with Tonks, and marking only the older years' work would be easier due to the fact they were already students with a high aptitude for Defense and therefore he'd have less ridiculous mistakes to correct. The only parts he'd need to ask for extra time off would be for the two weeks for Harry's _hell weeks._ He refused to teach at all during that time, but he could cross the bridge when they got closer to it.

"That will suffice," he accepted the offer. "I'll meet Tonks to hand over the lessons for the classes."

The two wizards sat in a companionable silence with Albus peering around the room and Severus intertwining his fingers in the same fashion he'd noticed Draco and Harry doing as of late.

"Thank you, Albus," he eventually said when the silence overwhelmed him. He was definitely losing his previous spying touch, and it was probably at the worst possible time. How could he protect Harry and Draco if he'd lost his ability to stay ahead of his opponents? He used to pride himself on his awareness and critical thinking and yet somewhere between chemotherapy schedules, battling the Dark Lord, and training their next generation spy, he'd lost some of that skill.

The wizard sitting across from him smiled, a sight that few others truly saw from the man, "You're welcome, Severus. I wish there was more I could do."

That was what everyone said, himself included. They all wished there was more they could do to help Harry get through this, and yet here they were going into the final phase before the elusive Maintenance Phase where things for the Gryffindor would start to stabilize. In that phase, he'd need to learn to live without his magic - hopefully only temporarily - but somehow that seemed like an improvement to where they were currently headed.

~~~~HP~~~~

**_Friday 24, January 1997_ **

On Fridays, Harry had Transfiguration and Charms classes - one before lunch and the other right after - with Herbology tutoring with Neville in the open period before dinner. Obviously, all his professors had been told that today was his last day physically in class before he started his quarantining for at least the next eight weeks. Therefore, he ended up staying after each class this week to go over his schedule and what he'd be missing during his absence. McGonagall's meeting today was far too sentimental for his liking and Flitwick seemed to not really understand what was going on. It really was a depressing way to end his last week of in person lessons and they only accomplished highlighting how far behind he was already, and that he'd only get further behind as time went on; especially when he couldn't even do tutoring for two of the eight weeks. At some point, he'd have to discuss not finishing the rest of the year with Snape because while he understood the professor's idea to keep his mind busy, it was getting frustrating for him and his professors. Surely between the two of them, they could find some other way for Harry to fill in his idle time.

As far as his actual tutoring was concerned, he was nervous about how this would end up working because Snape had arranged it so he only had one tutoring lesson per day with an official class in the evenings - cutting his tutoring in half - plus the professor was dropping his non-N.E.W.T classes so he could be more available during this time. He also arranged a rotating set of Order members to stay with him during the times he would not be available, leaving zero time the young wizard would be left alone. Harry was grateful for everything the man had been doing and sacrificing for him, but at the same time he was already feeling suffocated by everyone and he hadn't even started yet. Not only that, Harry logically questioned what they would both be doing in their quarters during the day if neither of them had classes to work on.

In an attempt not to think about what tomorrow would bring, his friends had come down to hopefully take his mind off of things after his last dinner in the Great Hall, which went more or less unnoticed. It was now their normal group of Ron, Lavender, Hermione, Draco, and Dudley hanging out in Harry's bedroom. Each official couple was sitting side-by-side on the floor, although Lavender was sitting more in Ron's lap than out of it, leaving Harry on his bed and Dudley at the desk.

"We're totally going to leave you down here to rot, mate," Ron jokingly said, making Harry laugh. Hermione gave him a hard slap across his shoulder. "Ouch, 'Mione, that's my good Quidditch arm!"

"Don't tell him that," she reprimanded the red-head sharply, showing how different his two friends approached the situation. "Harry needs our support right now, and that's counterproductive to that endeavor."

"Seems to me that Harry didn't take nearly as much offense to it as you did," Ron scowled.

It was true. Harry knew it was all in good fun and Ron hadn't meant any harm by it, but that didn't make Hermione feel any better about the situation. Although their continued bickering was amusing to watch, it was the look in Draco's grey eyes that caught Harry's attention. The only Slytherin in their group - to which Harry found himself wondering what house Dudley would be placed in _-_ looked almost jealous at the conflicted interaction between Ron and Hermione. The whole thing made absolutely no sense because why would the other wizard be jealous of his girlfriend fighting with her friend?

Harry tabled that thought for later and turned his focus to the people sitting in his bedroom. They had all taken a part of their night to spend with him on the last night he would be able to have the group over. It filled him with gratitude to have them there and he realized if he could only keep reminding himself that he had all of these people there to support him, he could get through this last major phase without too many issues.

As the night went on, the six friends talked about trivial things: next weekend's Quidditch game which was Slytherin versus Hufflepuff and another one that Harry would miss, Dean and Ginny getting back together much to Ron's chagrin, and everyone's thoughts on Professor Trelawnley's latest row - or as much as the witch could in her almost permanent whimsical state - with Firenze that got so heated over lunch, Dumbledore had to step in and remove them both from the Great Hall. They were all laughing so hard - with the exception of Draco, who only gave a half-hearted chuckle here or there - that none of the teenagers heard the knock on the door causing them all to startle when Snape's head appeared in the doorway. Immediately, as if they were on opposing sides of a magnet, the two couples separated to put a more reasonable distance between the partners.

"Watch the time," Snape reminded the group, "It's almost curfew and you have a busy day tomorrow, Harry."

"That first part doesn't mean much for the prefects," Draco arrogantly replied, gesturing to himself and Hermione.

"It does if your Head of House hears of you abusing that privilege," the professor responded and Harry could have sworn the man was holding back a smirk.

"Fair point," the blonde mumbled as he stood and whipped the imaginary dust from his trousers. Snape left without another word, though he did leave the door opened more than a crack; a move Harry knew to be deliberate. Deeming himself safely from the former spy's earshot - if such a thing existed - Draco added, "He's turning into quite the _'Dad'_ , wouldn't you say?"

"Shove it, Malfoy," Harry joked without any animosity, secretly feeling the same sentiment.

His friends all stood, looking around not sure what to say in a situation where one of them was about to be essentially locked away for weeks on end. It was different when they all arrived at school and Harry was already quarantined. Now it felt awkward, even to him.

"Just go, guys," he waved them off, "I'll be fine and I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

Hermione made the first move, under Draco's watchful eye, by coming up to him and giving him a hug and a small kiss on his cheek before saying, "I'll see you Monday for Transfiguration tutoring."

"Thanks, 'Mione," he whispered in her ear, then watched her go back to Draco's side. His heart was heavy not because he was jealous of the blonde, but because of the normalcy in that simple move.

Dudley, Ron, and Lavender all gave him a wave with a collective and empty promise to "see you soon" before turning around and walking out the door. He likely wouldn't see those three at all during the next phase and that was a hard truth to swallow. Hermione followed the others out, but Draco oddly lingered around Harry's desk.

"I'll see you Tuesday, Potter," the Slytherin eventually said, "I think we start with Defense again."

"I think you're right," Harry replied with a half smile because that was the only time he'd ever admit that to the other wizard. But Draco didn't make a move to leave, instead he uncharacteristically shifted his weight between his feet, "You alright, Draco? You've seemed a little… off tonight."

"Been keeping track of me, have you?"

It was a typical Malfoy answer and one that didn't surprise the Gryffindor in the slightest. Harry thought it looked like Draco wanted to continue, but instead he hung his head and shook it gently - his long platinum blonde hair falling across either side of his face - and followed after Hermione.

Harry stayed up for another half an hour enjoying the calm before tomorrow's treatment started and thinking about his latest interactions with Draco. The other teen had seemed down lately, almost like Harry had when he started classes again back in November, and at this point the Gryffindor assumed it had to do with whatever happened over the Christmas holiday with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. As Harry finally got up and ready for bed - hanging his school robe in his wardrobe the last time for at least the next two months - he came to the conclusion that things were definitely not adding up with the Malfoy heir lately, and whatever it was, it wasn't good at all. He'd still see his Slytherin classmate every Tuesday and Thursday until his hard quarantine, for Defense and Potions tutoring, and he decided that finding out what was going on with the other wizard was the perfect distraction for his brain to focus on instead of the awful chemotherapy he would be doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next: Quidditch
> 
> Again, there was a lot of medical info here, so if you'd like to see the schedule remove the spaces on the text below:  
> flic . kr / p / 2jz2p1n


	59. Quiddich

~~~~HP~~~~

**_Wednesday 29, January 1997_ **

The start to Phase Three of consolidation came just as harsh and fierce as Harry had expected it would. The IV's and IT treatments were always the medicines that drew everyone's attention because of their abnormal delivery and caustic nature - even spilling a drop on his skin could cause burning - but the new tablet chemotherapy he was taking turned out to be just as difficult on his body. At first, taking the extra three tablets a day didn't seem so bad, but by Monday, day three, he noticed a definite difference in him that was far too similar to the steroid he took during Induction back in July. So far this phase was painful, exhausting, and even the thought of the easier Maintenance Phase couldn't shake his turbulent attitude around it. The only good part - and he had to keep reminding himself of this fact - was that he was allowed to use his magic, and even if it were only sparingly he was enjoying getting to hold his wand again.

"Harry?" The soft sound of Hermione's voice brought him out of his inner thoughts and back to their Charms lesson.

Both of the Gryffindors were sitting on the sofa out in the sitting room, Hermione still in her school uniform, as this lesson was directly after her Potion's class before dinner, and Harry was still dressed in his warmest set of pyjamas. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace - where his emerald eyes were currently focused instead of on the textbook laid out on his lap - but it didn't help to push the cold out of his core and bones. Harry turned his head quickly to his friend watching him inquisitively, not at all annoyed that the person she was taking the time to tutor was not paying attention to her lesson.

"Sorry, Hermione," he sheepishly replied, "I didn't hear what you said about… well, any of it."

"What's going on, Harry?"

He didn't want to tell her that the isolation was already getting to him only five days into his fifty days of quarantine. He didn't want to complain that the five separate medications he'd taken in that short time frame felt like they were tearing his body apart inside. Or that he didn't understand why this phase had to be so harsh when only six days ago he was almost perfectly healthy. How was it possible that he felt so normal then, and now the inside of his body literally felt like it was slowly dying? So instead of talking to her about any of that, he decided to ask her about his newest muse, which happened to be her boyfriend.

"Are you going to the game on Saturday?" He casually responded, sitting up straighter on the sofa with the plan to back into the information he was fishing for.

The Gryffindor witch narrowed her eyes at his too obvious deflection. He should have known better than to try to distract her from her inquiry; she was too smart for that. However, that also meant she was intelligent enough to know when not to push him to talk about something that he clearly didn't want to discuss. This was exactly one of those times.

"Yes, I am," she answered, a little guarded for his liking, and then went right back to their notes.

"Are you going to support Slytherin?" It was a natural second question, and he was proud of himself for keeping the malice from his voice when he named her boyfriend's team.

"Seeing as Gryffindor isn't playing," she started with, as if to remind Harry that she wasn't choosing Draco's side over his - or her - own, "I will be there supporting Draco."

"As if he's going to have any problems beating Hufflepuff," Harry half mumbled to himself. There was a long, not at all awkward pause when she'd gone back to reviewing their notes, before he continued to ask, "How's everything going with you and Draco?"

The bushy-haired witch lifted her eyes from her book in a move he'd seen her give Ron plenty of times before, usually when the redhead interrupted her reading. Sure, he hadn't asked a question on Charms, but as his tutor it was kind of expected he would interrupt when he had questions.

She hesitated, but then said, "Things are going really well."

"Have you told your parents about him?" The question was out of his mouth before he had time to consider what he was asking. "You don't have to answer that. I shouldn't have asked."

"It's fine, Harry," she smiled at him. "Of course I told my parents about him. If nothing else, it became pretty obvious when Apollo kept arriving every couple of days before I went to the Burrow."

Harry could pick up that she was talking about Draco's Eagle Owl, meaning the Slytherin had been in contact with her during the holiday. He wondered what they discussed in their letters to each other, and more importantly if they were read by Voldemort or any of his other Death Eaters before they left Malfoy Manor or arrived back. How much did they know about Hermione's, a muggleborn's, relationship with their youngest recruit? The more this continued, the more Harry was getting concerned for her friend.

"Do they know who he is?" Harry found himself asking. "That he's..."

"The last heir to one of the oldest pureblood wizarding families?" She snapped at him, "and one that preaches about blood purity any chance they can? That I'm the definition of everything they stand against? No, Harry, I didn't think they needed to know that information."

That had pushed her further than he wanted to and the guilt filled him from his toes upward. How was he supposed to know what you told your parents about the person you were dating? He'd never dated anyone, nor did he have parents to tell. Of course, as muggles, the name Malfoy wouldn't mean much and therefore he guessed she got away easy on that one. He picked up his Transfiguration book and continued to listen to her rattle on about _Aguamenti_ which he thought was a spell that would have been helpful to learn years ago. Being that this was his first Charms lesson with his wand, he picked it up from the table in front of him, fully intending on practicing only the movement, but was stopped when Hermione firmly placed her hand on top of his own.

"You can't use that," she reprimanded him, "Professor Snape said you could only use it during the lessons with your professors."

"But he's not here," Harry tried to explain. The professor still had his office hours in the period before dinner, which Harry assumed was planned so he wasn't home for his student tutoring. If he weren't so frustrated with Hermione for her slightly snide comment, he would have laughed at the thought of Neville sitting in the same quarters as Snape while going over his Herbology lesson. On second thought, he probably owed Neville _something_ after all of this; after all, the other teen had volunteered to tutor him in the home of his boggart.

Throwing his wand across the sofa, Harry turned to the second friend he'd ever made and asked, "Did Draco happen to say anything about what happened over the holiday? Or anything about the raid on New Year's?"

The moment the question left his lips, he knew he'd gone much too far; that it had been the last straw.

"I'm not doing… whatever this is… with you," she dramatically gestured her hand between the two of them, her face scrunched up in a look of both disappointment and sympathy, before she aggressively packed up her bag.

"Hermione," Harry started, his heart swelling with shame for putting his friend in this position. "I'm s-"

"He couldn't stop that attack!" She yelled, swiping the corners of her eyes with her left hand. Harry hated himself for making her cry after everything she'd done for him this year. "And if you need any more information on why, then you just have to ask him yourself!"

" 'Mione," he pleaded, and grabbed for her hand when she'd finished packing her school bag, but she pulled it away from him before he could grab a hold of it.

"I know what you're going through is hard, Harry," she said from behind the sofa, about halfway to the door, "and I'm sorry you have to do this, but that doesn't give you the right to ask things like that."

She was right, of course, and he knew it. His emotions had been so unpredictable lately that he didn't even know how he felt about it all. It wasn't like he really _needed_ to know what was going on with the Slytherin. He was just desperate for any information he could get; a silent Voldemort was definitely dangerous and he could feel something inside of him - probably the soul fragment next to his own - that was telling him something was going on. All he wanted was to find out what that was, except he went about it all the wrong ways.

Taking his silence as all the feedback she needed, Hermione slowly shook her head and added, "I'll see you Monday."

His body was in too much pain - originally physical, but now emotional too - to go after her, but it wouldn't have mattered anyways. She left too quickly; slamming the heavy door in her wake, before he even had time to register that she was leaving.

* * *

The second half of the week only continued to spiral down until Harry found himself waiting yet again for Dr Swanson to arrive for his next round of chemotherapy on Saturday. This round would only be two IV medications today and he would get the week off from his chemotherapy tablets. While he hadn't said anything, he was hoping that without any midweek medications, his body and mood would stabilize back to normal. Maybe then, he would be in a sound enough mind to fix things with Hermione. At his Herbology lesson the previous night, Neville said she'd been distracted since their row.

"She's late," Snape bellowed as he walked into the sitting room from the kitchen. The professor had been trying to navigate Harry's daily changing mood and in effect, had been in and out of his own foul one. He feared anyone who dared to step into their quarters at any given point from this last week.

"What's the big deal?"

The glare from across the room reminded the Gryffindor of the basilisk and the night of Slughorn's party; an event he was more than willing to forget.

"The 'big deal'," he used air quotes that made Harry feel like he was back in primary school, "is that as the Head of Slytherin, I'm required to be at the pitch this morning."

It sounded odd to Harry, but shouldn't have surprised him too much. Professor McGonagall was always at the pitch when they were warming up before a match. Suddenly, a thought - one that filled him with sadness and relief at the same time - came to his mind.

"You won't be here for my treatment?"

"Unfortunately, I will not be here," the professor rubbed his hand down his face, simultaneously sitting down in the armchair across from Harry, "given that we're playing Hufflepuff though, I cannot imagine it will be a lengthy game."

"You shouldn't say that," Harry jested, "they may surprise you one of these days."

"Somehow I doubt that," Snape replied with a single eyebrow raised, "and you will not be alone for your treatment. Lupin has requested to visit."

"He really requested that?" The Gryffindor asked with doubt laced in his voice, "Since when has he wanted to see me?"

He hadn't meant it as an insult to the last person with any real connection to his parents, but it wasn't like Remus had made any other attempts to see him, so what was he supposed to think about the man? He'd almost prefer to be alone then to have Remus breathing down his neck having no clue what to do. At least at this point, even Mrs Weasley and Professor McGonagall knew how to help him. It was sure to be an interesting treatment.

"All I know is he asked if he could stop by, since Tonks is now working in the castle," the professor explained in an almost uninterested manner.

"And you agreed?" Harry found himself asking, "To leave him here? In your quarters? Practically alone?"

He would have checked if the former spy were the one losing his mind because the Snape he knew - albeit he wasn't technically the same person - would never leave Remus alone in his home, but he just couldn't move from the sofa.

"There is nothing the werewolf can do in here that would go unnoticed," the former spy cryptically said and Harry shivered at the implication.

"You still should have asked me first," the Gryffindor mumbled.

Snape gave him the respect of his full attention before he said, "You have my sincerest apologies then. He stopped by my classroom and I assumed you would be satisfied with the arrangements, seeing as he's been away. If it is that big of an issue, I'm sure Minerva would not mind missing this game today."

There was something in his voice that said it would be a bad idea to make that request, but before he could say another word about it, the floo roared to life and Madam Pomfrey came out, followed shortly by Dr Swanson.

"How's my favorite patient?" Dr Swanson asked, pulling out all of the things she would need to set up his IV of morphine plus his chemotherapy from her bag.

"Let's be honest, you have to travel in a fireplace to get here," Harry replied sarcastically, "I doubt I'm your favorite patient."

Given his aggressive mood lately, relief filled Snape's eyes at his rather rude, but overall harmless comment.

"Any patient going through Delayed Intensification is my current favorite," she smiled at him.

Without missing a beat, Harry said, "You've obviously never apparated before. I guarantee you would never come back if you experienced that."

Knowing Snape was in a hurry, he leaned back against the sofa so they could get started.

"Your blood counts came back a little lower than I would have hoped to see," the doctor explained as she worked on his IVs, "Given that you won't have any other medications between now and next Saturday, I'm not going to delay this treatment, but I think it's best that anyone coming into the quarters should be masked today and tomorrow. It's best to be safe now then sorry later. It's also very important that if you feel at all sick you let Professor Snape know. That means feverish, abnormal stomach pain, chills, or coughing, understood?"

Harry nodded, but his thoughts were stuck on Remus's visit? What would the older wizard think of wearing the muggle medical mask? As if reading his mind, Snape got up to the desk that Harry rarely even noticed in the sitting room and pulled out a box of masks, placing them dramatically onto the table top.

Once the chemotherapy was set up in his port and the IV of morphine in his hand, Dr. Swanson sat in the armchair across from Snape and asked the million galleon question, "How else are you feeling, Harry? Outside of the usual Chemo side effects?"

"It's been a rough week," He found himself saying honestly. He took a deep breath and stared at his hands trying to ignore Snape's eyes on him, "It seems I'm tired all day, and at the same time I can't sleep at night. My body hurts… or aches really. I just always feel like I'm in pain somewhere inside of me and no position helps it. And I'm cold. It sounds stupid and petty to mention it on top of everything else, but I can't seem to get warm."

She wrote down the effects he'd been feeling, nodding her head as her pen scratched away. He wondered how normal all of this was, assuming it had to be very normal because she didn't look at all worried.

"I'm going to recommend adding melatonin before bedtime," she said to Snape - which Harry did not appreciate - while handing him a small slip of paper. "I'm also going to prescribe a stronger pain medication to take as needed.

"So today is only a one hour, followed by another one hour. If it's ok with you, Madam Pomfrey will change the medications. My son has an event this afternoon that I need to attend."

Harry smiled and was about to mention that Snape was in a similar predicament, however one look at Snape's onyx eyes told him that would be a very bad idea. It wouldn't have mattered anyways because the doctor was gone only a few moments later and a slip of parchment popped up in front of Snape that Harry knew had Remus's name on it. Harry groaned, the last thing he wanted to do today was entertain.

_Maybe I can pretend to be asleep?_

As the murmuring from the door got closer, Harry closed his eyes and started to breathe deeply. Madam Pomfrey fussed around his IV lines and the more Harry pretended he was sleeping, the more he felt himself starting to believe he would actually fall asleep.

"Go to sleep, Harry," he heard the medi-witch whisper to him and it sounded like the best idea in the world. It was odd because he normally didn't sleep this early into his treatment, but after being up most of the night, pacing his room in various forms of pain and discomfort, now he just wanted to be left alone to sleep.

The steps coming into the room were so unique, he could tell exactly who they belonged to and where each person was in the room based on them. Snape's heavy footsteps were confident and quick, so different from the stealthy, quiet steps Harry was used to not-hearing in previous years, whereas Remus's were lighter, slower, and became much more timid the further he walked into the sitting room. A strong hand - Snape's, which had a lingering smell of parchment and potions ingredients - rested on Harry's head, which he automatically leaned into as he was somewhere between being awake and asleep.

"Should he need anything," Snape said in a voice much too quiet to have come from the professor, "send me a message and I'll come right back. Should everything be alright, though, I need to stop by the muggle pharmacy after the match."

"Is that wise, Severus?" Remus questioned with a sense of urgency, "Given the price on your head right now?"

The air was thick as a silence enveloped the room between the three adults.

"I'll ask Minerva to go instead," Harry knew Snape had to swallow every gram of his pride to admit that the former defense professor was correct. It would be an awful idea for him to leave the protection of the school now.

"Is there anything I need to do for him?" Harry heard Remus ask, but he never heard Snape's answer because somehow he managed to fall asleep.

~~~~SS~~~~

He wasn't supposed to go to the Quidditch match today, during Harry's second round of Phase Three of consolidation, however when Albus reported that the guard over Malfoy Manor overheard talk about something at the Quidditch match, he knew he would have to be there. Harry would be safe, though uncomfortable, at home, whereas his Slytherins - specifically Draco - would be exposed on the pitch, even with the extra safety measures they were taking. He was intimately aware that it could be a way to lure him out of the castle's safety, nevertheless he's never shied away from potential danger, especially where one of his charges was concerned.

That was how Severus ended up Saturday afternoon leading Lupin through his quarters to stay with Harry today. He was startled, and slightly worried, to see the young wizard already asleep on the sofa when he returned to his sitting room with the werewolf.

"It's the morphine," Madam Pomfrey answered his unspoken question.

Lupin's stride had slowed as they approached the sleeping Gryffindor. Harry appeared so peaceful, yet Severus knew inside the teen was anything but.

"Is there anything I need to do for him?" Lupin asked, after sitting in the armchair to the right, somehow ascertaining that the other seat was Severus's.

"Nothing in particular," the professor responded as he gathered his traveling cloak. He was already late. "He'll probably sleep until the medications hit his system and then he'll let you know what he needs. The sphere on the table in front of you is yours and he has the other one. If he needs you, he'll squeeze it and yours will light up." Lupin picked up the sphere and held it, rolling it between his two hands, much in the way Severus himself had done when he thought about what that sphere implied. "Give him space though, one of the medications has made him a bit… confrontational as of late. He knows what he needs, so just trust him."

In the last seven months, Harry had run through a gamut of emotions as he faced his own mortality, pushed his body to its limits, and adjusted to the idea that life outside of these walls was continuing to move on without him. None of that compared to the current battle, with his latest aggressive mood, he was going through. At first he gave Harry space as he adjusted to the new medication - the tablets were almost worse than the IVs - however when Hermione approached him on Wednesday after dinner to explain the issue they had during his tutoring that afternoon, he started to pay closer attention to the teen. Harry absolutely should not be getting involved in Draco's business.

The walk down to the pitch gave the professor no reprieve from his racing thoughts; his dark eyes constantly shifting around to make sure everything was in order as it should be. Quidditch was a part of life at Hogwarts he could do without and part of the top three worst aspects of being a Head of House - whiny, homesick first years being at the top of the list - that he could do without. The only good part of the whole process was the rivalry it brought between himself and Minerva. Something about the sport managed to break down that awkward barrier when he came in as one of the youngest professors ever hired in Hogwarts history and made Head of Slytherin. It took him years to become comfortable with the idea of going from being a student to a colleague with the other professors. The hardest of all, or at least the one he anticipated to be the hardest, was Minerva due to their tempestuous history between him and her house; primarily James Potter and Sirius Black. When the week of the first Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch match started, Minerva showed a feisty camaraderie he never would have expected from his former professor. Even more amazing was her attitude and acceptance when Slytherin slaughtered the Gryffindor team. From then on, the two of them fell into this odd acquaintanceship, that grew into a friendship, and almost a mentorship throughout the years. He was grateful to have her as a colleague and friend, valuing her opinion almost as much as Albus - more as of late, if he were honest - regardless of what their outward appearance may look like to the rest of the school.

"Nice of you to show up," Draco called him out on his tardiness rather brashly; murmurs passed through the rest of the team at their Seeker's gall - and potentially suicidal - behavior.

Sending a warning glance to the blonde, he replied, "My schedule is not of any concern."

At that moment, Minerva walked up behind his team giving an extremely small nod of her head; enough to let him know that the area was checked and cleared. The plan for the match that afternoon was to have Moody placed on watch at Malfoy Manor, and was to report any movement from the Death Eaters' and Dark Lord's side. Theoretically, assuming everyone there was in line, there would be no surprises on the pitch. Of course, after years behind enemy lines, he knew to expect the unexpected and therefore it wouldn't surprise him if they moved out last night with no intentions of meeting at the Manor beforehand.

With only a quarter of an hour to go before the game, the team had already completed their warm ups and were ready to get out there. No matter what he told others, he would never discount the Hufflepuff team. In his old reality, Cedric was a talented seeker and while it often frustrated Harry to have such a competitor - more so when the Hufflepuff seeker started dating Cho - he enjoyed the challenge that his classmate provided him. Of course, Cedric wouldn't be playing today not because he would have left Hogwarts last year, like his old reality, but because he was murdered by the Dark Lord in an event that did not happen where he was originally from. It was a significant death that did not have to happen and one that he took to heart because by jumping to this reality, he essentially condemned the child to his death. Had the professor stayed where he was, there was only one death there - Harry's - and who knew if the Dark Lord would have ever regained power. To make himself feel a little less guilty, he told himself that it was possible that the evil wizard would have come back anyways, only then they wouldn't have the advantage of the Leukemia being passed from Harry to Voldemort and hopefully killing the bastard.

_As long as I find a way to get the soul fragment out of Harry first._

Using his Occlumency, he expertly pushed that thought aside, refusing to let it distract him from his ultimate goal of today: keeping the students safe.

With nothing else to provide on the field, he bid his team luck and went to take his place in the stands. He was sitting besides Minerva - who graciously agreed to stop by the muggle pharmacy for him after the game - with Pomona seated directly in front of him. The Hufflepuff Head of House wasn't nearly as competitive as Minerva or himself, but she acknowledged their current situation with a firm nod. At this point, he couldn't care less what the ending of the game looked like so long as they all left alive and stayed on the Hogwarts grounds.

The game started out as unimpressive as he would have expected. To the rest of the spectators, the game was exceedingly boring, nevertheless it made his job all the easier. Without too much underhanded play going on or head-on conflict, it was clearer for him to see where every player was and if anything was out of place. It also allowed him to keep his eyes off the game, keeping a lookout in the area surrounding the pitch and the stands for anyone who should not be there. In theory, no one with nefarious intentions should be allowed within the wards, however as Harry would quickly point out, that hasn't exactly stopped the Dark Lord in the past.

Based on the gameplay of Quidditch, that the game didn't end until one of the Seekers caught the Snitch, it was impossible to tell where they were in relation to the end. This meant that Severus had no reference as to if they were almost in the clear or not. The longer the game played on - half an hour, a quarter past an hour, hour and a half - the harder it was for Severus to keep his mind focused and alert. As they passed the two hour mark, instead of watching through the steaks of green and gold passing by the stands, he found himself thinking about Harry; wondering how the Gryffindor was handling this round and if Lupin was being helpful, yet not smothering the young wizard. The absolute last thing Harry needed was someone pitying him right now and that was the professor's only hesitation in letting the last Marauder stay there in his place this afternoon. There was a better chance than not that Severus would return home to a sullen, ill teenager and he really wasn't looking forward to it.

Focusing back on the match in front of him, he was surprised it had gone on as long as it had. At this point, unless the Hufflepuff Seeker caught the Snitch soon, not even that would give the Badgers a win. Normally, Summerby wouldn't stand a chance at catching the Snitch against Draco, but the Slytherin had been off his game lately. He'd seen it in classes, in his course work, and even in his attitude in the Great Hall or in the corridors with Hermione. He assumed it had to do with the fact he'd be going into hiding - attempting to distance himself, knowingly or not, from the other students and his studies - but he'd learned from Harry's experience with pneumonia not to overlook the small details. This current slum or distraction could be signs of something more serious.

Lost in his thoughts, and having fallen into a false sense of security by not a single thing appearing out of the usual, he didn't think twice as he saw the two Seekers race towards the Snitch that was hovering near the bottom of the staff stands. Slytherin was ahead 180 to 25 and therefore it really didn't matter which player caught it; his house would be victorious and he could go about his way back to castle: a literal win-win situation. Keeping his eyes always moving as he scanned the edges of the pitch, the door leading to the locker rooms, and the skies heading towards the Forbidden Forest, he focused everywhere except the two players that had converged right at the bottom of the very stand he was sitting in. He heard the Hufflepuff's roaring cheers - apparently the fact that they beat Draco to the Snitch overshadowed the fact that they'd just lost - a split second before a loud blast directly from where the two Seekers were located, and the stands around them shook.

~~~~HP~~~~

_"He's going to fail me!" He tried to keep his voice strong, but he knew the weakness could be heard through it._

_"No, my Lord, he will not," the strong Death Eater in front of him said, "I will see to it that he is well on his way."_

Harry jarred up from his restless sleep, his body protesting every movement he made - from his eyelids shooting opening to his back when he sat up - with his scar burning, yet having no recollection as to why. Just like all the other times he'd been woken up after chemo, he felt the need to sick up immediately. Unlike most of the other times though, he had his wand with him to summon the charmed bucket preventing any embarrassing accidents.

When the nausea finally passed, expelling the meager breakfast he'd managed to eat, he was startled by the soft, but deep voice he'd not expected to be there. He closed his eyes wishing the owner of that voice was anywhere but in the same room with him.

"You're alright," Remus said, and Harry felt the sofa dip down indicating that his father's best friend was now seated right next to him. In fact, the other wizard was so close that Harry could feel the heat radiating from his body onto Harry's freezing one.

"I'm… fine," Harry choked out, shaking his head back and forth, which only managed to make his head pound more than it already was.

He could tell Remus didn't know what to do or say. As someone who had been facing a debilitating disease every month, Harry would have assumed Remus would know how to act around someone in Harry's position, however it became clear that was not the case. Remus pulled back, like Harry had slapped him, and moved to the other side of the sofa.

"Do you need anything?" He softly asked the young Gryffindor, "some water perhaps?"

"I told you, I'm fine," he spat out, but then looked around the room confused. He had fallen asleep on the sofa, something that he didn't do as much anymore. He still had the IV of morphine in the top of his hand - based on how his body was feeling though, it was probably time for another set - but the chemo in his port was gone, as was Madam Pomfrey.

"You don't look fine, Harry," Remus replied. "In fact, nothing about this looks fine."

In another time and place, Harry would have been able to think rationally that the last time Remus had seen him - really seen him, not counting when he brought Snape back from the rescue mission, or when he'd been distracted by Tonk's constant flirting on New Year's Eve - it was when his port had been placed back in July after he'd woken up from surgery. That was before the chemotherapy took his hair, before he lost so much weight that he was almost all skin and bones - enough that starting last week, Dr Swanson had increased his tube feedings to the daytime as well - and before his feeding tube was in place, running from his right nostril across his cheek and behind his ear. It was a big change in a short amount of time, and at this point most people were used to it. His Slytherin classmates had even stopped harassing him, at least before he started quarantine. Who knew what they would say to him when, or if, he ever went back to classes. But he wasn't embarrassed anymore; he had too many more important things to think and worry about.

Remus's voice, which had increased in volume signaling that the young wizard probably missed part of what he'd said, startled him once again back to reality.

"Do you want help getting to bed?"

His light brown eyes broke Harry's resolve. No, he didn't want to go to bed; just because he was sick, didn't mean he wanted to be in bed. Nonetheless, he found himself nodding his head because he didn't want to hurt Remus's feelings.

"This is a nice room you have," the older wizard commented as Harry settled into his bed, bringing the green bedspread around his chest, and he was almost willing to give up the IV of morphine so he could cover up to his shoulders. Remembering the IV caused him to check that the pail was close by because having the IV also meant he wouldn't always be able to make it to loo in time.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled. "Did Madam Pomfrey say when she would be back?"

Remus furrowed his brows in confusion, "Is she supposed to be back? She didn't say before she left."

Harry was frustrated for the simple fact that the person entrusted to his care didn't even know about his medications. Working his way backwards, he knew he fell asleep when Remus arrived, meaning he could at least know how long he had been on this bag of morphine and then estimate when the medi-witch would return. "How long was I sleeping?"

"Since I've been here," the werewolf sat down on the edge of Harry's bed, a place usually reserved for Snape or Hermione. "It's been about an hour and a half."

 _Not nearly long enough,_ he thought grimly, he still had a long day ahead of him.

At the end of the day, no matter how it ended up, Harry would be proud of himself for withstanding Remus's hovering and - for lack of a better word - smothering. He was by far the worst offender of trying to be helpful, but only managing to get in the way. Snape, and most of the people who'd been around to stay with him, knew at this point that Harry didn't always need someone right next to him every time he sicked up or for every painful moan and groan he made. Snape instinctively knew when he needed help long before he squeezed the sphere, and somehow he was never too early. Remus was trying though, and given Harry's irritability he was proud he'd made it as long as he had without causing any conflicts.

That all changed at dinnertime though. Most of the day had been spent playing chess with Remus between rounds to the lavatory, doing some sketching, or simply talking to the man he never got to see anymore about whatever he was allowed to say from his travels for the Order, Tonks and her constant wooing over him to which Remus blushed and simply said he was far too old for her, and stories about his parents and Sirius. It had been nice to get to hear stories of his parents after they started dating, except Harry couldn't deny his small flicker of defensiveness for Snape. How could his mum not only throw away their friendship, but end up dating the boy that tormented her old best friend? It wasn't too unlike Hermione dating Draco, but by the time they got together the Slytherin had indeed changed and Harry didn't love Hermione like he knew Snape loved his mum. All of that explanation was his justification for feeling overly defensive of Snape. So when Madam Pomfrey stopped by for Harry's last bag of Morphine and to start his evening tube feeding - both processes that made Remus visibly uncomfortable - he was already feeling agitated with the other wizard.

"Is the match still going on?" Harry asked Madam Pomfrey while she worked in his lines. "Seems like Slytherin should have won pretty quickly."

The medi-witch froze mid turn in his IV tubing, a sign that Harry automatically didn't like.

"Oh my," the matron said, "no one's told you?"

Who did she think would be there to tell him something? His heart and stomach plummeted, "Told me what?"

"Slytherin won," she started cheerfully, "although Hufflepuff caught the Snitch. I'm afraid it was a dreadfully boring game until the end."

"What happened, Poppy?" Remus's voice was in high alert, which only caused Harry to worry more.

"I'm afraid there was an…" she paused to think of the right word, "explosion of sorts. Though that doesn't sound right… more of an implosion, really. Either way, it was right at the bottom of the staff stands." She looked at Harry's horrified face, and quickly added, "Everyone will be alright, deary. Nothing a couple potions and healing charms can't fix."

There was something in her voice that told the young Gryffindor she was hiding something. He couldn't help it. Between how sick he was feeling, the worry over Snape, the overall day he'd had, and his varying emotions overall, the tears started falling from the corner of his eyes before he could swipe them away. How could something like this happen? Were they expecting an attack? Was that why Snape needed to be at the match? Too many questions ran through his head that he wouldn't get any answers to. Unsurprisingly, he ended up back over the pail, vomiting bile, the only thing in his stomach at that time.

"I'm sure Severus will be down as soon as he sorts through some of the details," the matron said, somehow knowing that was what had caused his nausea this time. "Just try and rest, Harry. I'm needed back upstairs, but if you need anything have Remus send for me."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," he said quietly watching the elderly witch walk out, wondering who she had to stop healing to come down here to tend to his medicines and the supplemental nutrients.

A long uncomfortable silence fell over his room between the two Gryffindors left there.

"Whatever Dumbledore's paying her," Harry gave a small, painful laugh, "she deserves a raise."

"What has he done to you?" Remus asked, completely ignoring Harry's attempt at a joke.

"What'd you mean? Who do you mean?"

"Snape," the other wizard spoke quietly, "I've questioned for a while now what's going on… first he was with you at Privet Drive, then you move in here, though Professor McGonagall is technically your guardian now, he took you and your cousin to Shell Cottage for Christmas, and now he's given up his teaching post to do what? Stay here with you?"

Simultaneously, Harry felt an extreme sense of sorrow and anger build up in him. Had it not been for the chemotherapy tablets he'd been taking causing him to be irritable, it would have been a toss up as to which emotion would be amplified out at the absolute last person who had the right to question the current relationship between him and Snape. Remus wasn't there for any of it; he couldn't be with the Order and his transformations. Harry fully understood that and until now, hadn't held it against the other Gryffindor.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," the young wizard growled in warning. "So just… don't."

"All I know, Harry," he moved closer up the bed and instinctively Harry moved backwards and pulled his knees to his chest. He knew Remus wouldn't hurt him, but that didn't mean he had to like him now, "is that a year ago, you probably would have celebrated Severus's premature death. Now, I look at you and have to question if he's had some hand in your current predicament."

"You have no right to say that!" Harry yelled, and then clenched his jaw to try to calm himself down; the last thing he wanted was to be sick during this conversation. "He's the only one who was there for me when I needed help this summer. You have no idea what you're talking about, so stay out of it!"

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Harry," the werewolf's voice was filled with regret, nevertheless Harry didn't care one bit. No matter what he said, the fact was he wasn't there. "It's such a big change, and I know I'm not the only person who's questioned if your staying here has been healthy."

"Nothing about me is healthy, Remus!" As if on cue, getting himself all worked up caused him to be back over the pail once again. This time he felt his former professor lean in and place his hand on the young wizard's lower back, right in the spot that Snape does and helps ground him during the vomiting. When all the dry heaving was done, he stayed leaning over the pail and whispered, "Get out."

"Harry-"

"Get. Out!"

Harry didn't lift his head again until he heard the heavy oak door close. He resisted the urge to cry, but failed miserably. No one would understand what Snape had done for him, and not just helping with his medicine and schedule; no one could understand because there was no one else in the world who was a wizard fighting against a muggle cancer, while holding a piece of an evil wizard's soul next to his own, and living with someone who he loved like his own father; who had literally traveled across the universe - _is that what he did?_ \- to save him.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus had, unfortunately, been in the hospital wing far too many times this year; both as a patient himself once and waiting with Harry the other half a dozen times. Unlike every other time though, the normally quiet infirmary was both loud and bustling with activity. He was sitting sideways across the bed -having been threatened to stay in until Madam Pomfrey released him, though he was sure if he wanted to, he could take down the tiny medi-witch without any trouble - trying not to listen to the sounds around him as he waited for the matron to take care of the more injured patients. His bed was tucked away in the back corner of the room, not because he was gravely hurt, like the other two beds near his own, but so that way no one would be able to wander over when Albus finally came by to discuss the incident.

He didn't see it coming. As the two Seekers reached for the golden Snitch, which in hindsight had been more evasive than usual throughout most of the game, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. It wasn't until Summerby got his hand wrapped around its small center that the blast of air discharged from the ball through the entire area around them. The stands had been broken in the blast, causing minor injuries - mostly cuts and bruises - to himself and the rest of the staff, but the panic that came from the other stands around the stadium, as students tried to get back to the safety of Hogwarts, was what brought most of the patients there that afternoon. There ended up being fifty students, most of whom were tiny first and second years, injured in the mass panic, fifteen professors harmed from the damage the stands sustained, and two players severely injured - Draco and Chester Summerby. Draco's distracted mind had ultimately saved him that day. Though he wasn't close enough to be in the fatal range of the blast, his injuries were still far from minor. The Slytherin had suffered massive internal hemorrhaging that even after extensive healing charms and extra strength bruise salve, his torso and arms were covered in yellow healing bruises all around. When Severus had seen the purple bruising before he'd been healed, he'd immediately panicked with thoughts about platelet counts before he reminded himself that this was Draco, not Harry, and that their healing spells would close up any of the internal damage done to the teen. That was the damage caused by the blast. In addition to the hemorrhaging, the implosion had unseated the Slytherin Seeker from his broom causing a whole set of secondary injuries when he fell from the moderate height such as a broken wrist, two broken ribs, and a concussion. His wrist and ribs were healed easily, however neither the wizarding nor muggle world could heal a concussion and therefore it earned him an automatic overnight stay in the hospital wing.

All of those were minor compared to the person laying in the bed to Severus's right. There had been one fatality in the attack that afternoon, and it would weigh on his soul for the rest of his life. Chester Summerby had succumbed to his injuries almost immediately after the attack. Healers from St. Mungo's and Aurors from the Ministry - both of whom were quickly called shortly after the attack - had determined that the Hufflepuff fifth year had died before his body even hit the ground from being thrown off his broom. In a tragic turn of events, what should have been a joyous occasion for the teen - since the odds were heavily in Draco's favor to catch the Snitch - had ultimately cost him his life.

Severus had been there that day to protect the students and staff; to prevent this exact thing from happening and yet he had failed, costing one of his student's his life. Albus and Moody had checked the stands last night and again early this morning, Madam Hooch had required all brooms be handed over yesterday for him to personally check - along with the the Bludgers and Quaffle - for any enchantments, and this morning he and Minerva - which turned out to be only Minerva as he'd been late - examined the field. Nothing came back showing any foul play. Of course the one thing they didn't check was the Snitch and that was simply because the Snitch was supposed to be brand new - never touched, never used, not even available - until right before the start of the game.

"It was meant for young Mr Malfoy," Albus said, approaching his bed from around the curtain. It was not a question, they both knew it to be true.

Raising his wand, he cast a nonverbal _Muffliato_ around them and replied, "I agree that the circumstances are not in his favor. It was not a secret that Slytherin would be playing against Hufflepuff today and it was more likely than not that Draco would catch the Snitch."

"Why would Tom want to kill one of his own? Especially one that has been given a very particular task?"

"Why does everyone think I know why he does what he does?" He frustratedly yelled at the headmaster and stood to start pacing his small curtained off area. "I want to know how they got to the damn Snitch."

"The Aurors and the Order are looking into it, my boy, I can assure you of that."

Time ticked between the two wizards, neither sure what to say. Severus had so many thoughts and feelings going through him, it was nearly impossible to separate them. He could use Occlumency to help compartmentalize them all and provide some relief, but he didn't. He deserved to feel the guilt over a student's death that he should have been able to prevent.

"I failed today," he said out loud only because there were privacy wards around them. It was the only way he would allow himself to show any weakness. "I was late getting to the pitch this morning and left Minerva-"

"This is not your fault," Albus interrupted him, his blue eyes shining fiercely in an attempt to make his protégé know he was not to blame. It was such an odd feeling to be on the receiving side for once; usually it was him telling Harry that exact phrase. "This is the work of the Death Eaters. Your tardiness would not have prevented Mr Summerby's unfortunate death. It seemed they knew exactly the measures we'd go to, and the ones we wouldn't, to keep the match safe."

"We're always one step behind," another wave of guilt passed through him. If he were still undercover in the Dark Lord's inner circle, he could have known about this. Unable to admit that his cover had been compromised by Alton anyway, he lingered on the fact that had he not been protecting Harry the night of the Privet Drive attack, he would still be in the Death Eater ranks. But protecting Harry, even before the child became his son, was his first priority; it had always been his first priority, since the day Lily died. No one questioned his judgment when he made the decision to duel the Death Eaters that night, besides Moody, but that man wouldn't be satisfied with anything Severus did unless it was walking into Azkaban.

"We've made contact with Narcissa," Albus changed the topic, though it may have been because the former spy hadn't been listening to anything he may have said. "I think she'll agree in the end."

If the Snitch attack was an attempt on the Slytherin's life, going into hiding was becoming more important by the day. There was a chance that his cover had been compromised, though if that were the case, the Dark Lord would have most likely summoned Draco and simply killed him when he arrived. There would be no need for the theatrics.

"We need to move this forward," he told the elderly wizard, "and get Draco out as soon as possible. In fact, I'd like him moved into my quarters upon his release from the hospital wing. There are too many children of Death Eaters in Slytherin house."

It wouldn't be ideal. Harry was in quarantine now, but the blonde was already in their quarters twice a week anyways. Harry would have a week off coming up where his blood counts would rebound back up, and as long as Draco was in hiding before his hard quarantine time - the two _hell weeks_ \- it wouldn't do any physical harm to the Gryffindor. Mentally might be another story, nevertheless he'd have to deal with it. For whatever reason, Draco had a target on his back and he couldn't be allowed out until they figured out why and how far it went.

"I'll make the appropriate arrangements, Severus," the headmaster nodded sullenly. The former spy didn't envy Albus. He would have to talk to Summerby's parents and explain why their son was killed on the school grounds. He'd have to face the Board of Governor's and walk them through the procedures they did to ensure the students' safety, and then explain how they failed at it. He'd have to make extra inconspicuous arrangements to try to keep another student safe. If anything, this was turning into one of the hardest years they've had since Harry started school here. No, the professor didn't envy the headmaster at all; he simply had two teenage boys that would be living with him full time starting tomorrow, what's the worst that can happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next: Housemates
> 
> A/N: This is one of those instances where the story kind of took its own turn because when I started this chapter, I had no intentions on Draco moving in with Harry and Snape. While it felt right for the story line, both where this chapter went as well what's to come, I stand by my previous statement when I brought Draco into this fic: he will not become Harry's brother in any way. Friends? Snape sure hopes so, but they won't be brotherly. While Snape does feel responsible for Draco given their history as double agents, it's strictly in a mentor sense and not paternal, like with Harry. I will give some insight that Draco moving in provides two benefits to the story, 1) it gives another perspective as we go into the lonely quarantine weeks that would be a bit boring with only Harry and Snape, and 2) well, I don't want to give any spoilers, so just trust that it is needed for what's to come.


	60. Chapter 60: Housemates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this is the second part to a back-to-back update, so if you didn't read last night's chapter, you'll end to go back one first.

~~~~HP~~~~

"What exactly do you mean when you say he'll be 'staying here until other arrangements can be made'?" Harry asked indignantly.

He had been asleep when Snape finally made it home last night. While the sleep was desperately needed, having had such a hard time with it lately, he had really wished he'd been able to ask what Madam Pomfrey had alluded to earlier. Instead, at around one o'clock in the morning, the young wizard had woken up in so much pain that he used the sphere for the first time since the chemotherapy after New Year's. At that point, he had no idea who would come - specifically if Remus was still there - so he was pleasantly surprised when Snape walked through his bedroom door, dressed in his black flannel pyjamas and feet bare, already dispensing out the new higher dosage of pain tablets in his strong hands for the young wizard to take. The gratitude he felt for the man at that time, for the simple fact that he knew exactly what was needed, could not be quantified.

That wasn't the time when the professor explained what had happened to keep him away; already knowing that Harry wouldn't be able to go back to sleep if he'd known. The former spy waited until the next morning over breakfast - which for Harry was a couple of bites of scrambled eggs mixed with cheese this time - to tell the Gryffindor everything that had happened at the match, with the attack, and the aftereffects of it; primarily Chester Summerby's death. It was as disheartening as Harry had imagined. Summerby was the second Hufflepuff to have died at the hands of Voldemort during a school sanctioned event and while this one wasn't completely attributed to Harry, he still felt the guilt blanket around him.

The rest of the morning, Harry focused on his inward feelings. Between Hermione, Remus, and now Chester, he had more than enough to think through. Which was why at lunch, when Snape first mentioned the blonde Slytherin moving in, he was sure he was about to explode any second. How did they know the attack was targeted to Draco anyway? Why would Voldemort try to kill his newest recruit? It made no sense, and he almost started with that last question, but one look into Snape's dark eyes stopped that thought before it left his mouth.

"You mean like he did over the summer?" Harry continued, hoping, almost begging it to be like that arrangement. "He'll have his own space that just so happens to be connected to ours."

"Not exactly," Snape said, preparing the young wizard's afternoon set of nutrients. "His room will be located in the same space, you can see the door there now, however unlike last time his room will not have an entrance into the outside corridor. Nor will it have any other means of entry."

So he was basically getting a bedroom on the other side of the sitting room. Suddenly, Harry was feeling significantly more suffocated than when it was only him and Snape. His viewpoint of Draco may have changed, but that didn't mean he wanted to live with the Slytherin. Who did they really think was going to get to him inside of the castle? And if they were worried about him, would that mean Snape actually was in danger of getting taken to Voldemort? The professor had assured Harry that it wasn't possible, but now-

"Harry," he was brought out of his panicked stupor by Snape sitting down at the table, calling his name. "It's only for a week or so, he'll definitely be gone before you start the hard quarantine. "

"Where's he going to go then?" It was the next logical question to ask mostly because he didn't want to sound too heartless towards Draco, especially because he was dating Hermione. "What about his classes and meals?"

"He'll be in classes, however he'll be taking his meals with us down here," Harry averted his eyes at this fact, but could feel the professor waiting for a reaction. He wanted to have a fit - he was certainly angry enough for it - except he didn't want to give Snape the satisfaction of it, so he sat there defiantly staring at the man, not missing the fact that the professor ignored his first question. "Outside of mealtime, I do not see any real reason for you two to cross paths if that is what you want."

"You could have told me this earlier," he unfairly accused. This wasn't Snape's fault, and the young wizard did understand that, it was difficult not to place the blame there though. "When's he moving in?"

There was a pregnant pause that told Harry he was not going to like the answer, "He should be released from the hospital wing by dinner time and then he'll be coming here straight away."

Harry couldn't help it. He let out a groan that showed just how much he was unhappy with the situation in front of him. Snape's face didn't look all that convinced that this was a good idea either. In fact, the Gryffindor had to assume that the man was looking forward to it just as little as Harry was.

_It'll only be a week or so until they can find a better way to protect him… how will the Order do that?_

* * *

Living with Draco, at least the start of that first week, turned out to be far better than Harry would have thought possible. The blonde Slytherin arrived just before dinner, as promised, but Harry was still not feeling well - from the leftover effects of chemotherapy or as a reaction to his new living arrangements, he couldn't say for sure - and spent that time in bed trying to sleep. Unfortunately, as always sleep evaded him and he ended up mostly tossing and turning through the evening, until Snape finally walked in, slowly just in case Harry was asleep and that notion warmed his heart. Harry closed his eyes as he heard the professor approach his bed.

"Are you intentionally hiding away from Draco?"

Apparently his pretending wasn't good enough this time. Opening his eyes, he pushed himself up in his bed until his back was being supported by the wooden headboard.

"I really am tired, y'know," he said sheepishly. "But I can't sleep. How's that for irony?"

"That's probably because it's only half past seven in the evening and therefore not your usual time to go to sleep," Snape said. "Dr Swanson had recommended only laying in bed when you are ready to go to sleep. It will help your brain associate your bed with sleeping, therefore help in the endeavor of falling asleep."

Harry was sure there was some medical research behind that, though it sounded a little loony to him. How could his brain be convinced of something just because he sleeps in it? Snape was probably just trying to get him to go out and mingle - that sounded like a word Snape would use - with his new roommate.

_Ha! At least he's not making us share a room!_

Suddenly the situation could seem a whole lot worse than it was, and he felt a little silly in hiding away.

"Besides," the professor continued, "you need to eat something in order to take your medications tonight and I think you'll find Draco's not at all wanting to sit around and sing campfire songs either."

Harry couldn't help it, the image of the three of them - probably the oddest trio on the planet, or at least wizarding Britain - sitting around the fireplace singing was enough to make him smirk. _Damn him!_ Harry thought. He didn't want to be so sullen, but it felt good; it felt right to him inside even if in the back of that mind, he knew it was his chemotherapy tablets messing with his brain.

Making his way to the kitchen, Harry took a peek around the corridor into the sitting room. Sitting in the armchair facing towards the kitchen was Draco. He was dressed in a pair of black silk-like pyjama bottoms with a matching solid black long sleeved pyjama shirt that made Harry look twice because he never thought of the fact that Draco Malfoy didn't wear his normal dressy clothes or robes to bed. His right leg was crossed over his left knee creating the perfect alcove on his lap for the stack of parchment he was working on. In that position, Harry could easily see that his feet were bare; something the Gryffindor himself could never do because the cold would run deep down to his bones and never leave. Draco's blonde head was turned to the side, as if he were contemplating something serious on the parchment in front of him, and every so often his quill would scratch across the parchment. Oddly, he was completely oblivious to Harry watching him from right outside the kitchen doorway, a sign that the new spy was not completely there.

Even from this distance, Harry could see that Draco's face was covered in small healing bruises and the Gryffindor immediately thought about his platelets. If that had been him, based on the amount of bruising present on just the parts he could see, combined with that being the state of them _after_ the use of healing spells and bruise salve, Harry knew he would have been dead long before anyone could have gotten to him. He shivered at the thought. The Snitch was supposed to be the one thing that couldn't be tampered with, and yet somehow - just like he always did - Voldemort managed to get to it. Between the attack and his thoughts on what normal Quidditch injuries would do to his body, Harry admitted, for the first time ever, that he was thankful he wasn't allowed to participate this year.

It wasn't just the physical remnants of the attack that struck Harry's sympathy for his Slytherin classmate. He'd been watching Draco for about a minute when the other wizard lifted his head and his dull grey met Harry's pain filled emerald ones and something about him seemed different. The week before Phase Three, and his quarantine, started and the two days at tutoring, he'd noticed Draco seemed off somehow, but now this went far beyond even those times. Draco seemed changed; he looked afraid. Harry had been used to a life where people were always trying to kill him either unintentionally, like his aunt and uncle, or intentionally, like Voldemort. It seemed the idea that he may have been the target of the attack yesterday was definitely getting to the Malfoy heir.

Before either teen could react, Snape came up behind Harry and gestured him into the kitchen where he proceeded to make the Gryffindor a bowl of soup and placed his evening medication beside the bowl.

"What happened to Draco?" Harry found himself asking. "How close was he to the Snitch when it exploded?"

"You'll have to ask him for the details," Snape professionally replied; Harry knew he wouldn't. "I would not divulge your medical history to him, however I will say he was close enough to be severely injured and that was before he fell off his broom to the ground."

Harry winced at the thought of falling from his broom at any height. Having had plenty of severe Quidditch accidents - a jinxed broom, a cursed bludger, and a dementor attack, to name a few - he knew how much damage could be caused from falling from one's broom. Quidditch really was a savage game, yet he would give anything to be back on his Firebolt racing across the pitch.

Draco mostly kept to himself that first night, to which Harry was grateful, but suspicious. The Gryffindor spent the night working on his school assignments out on the sofa per Snape's rather pointed suggestion that he not hang out in his bed unless he were sleeping. The task was one that he still questioned the relevancy given his situation, but he hadn't gotten the courage to ask Snape again about no longer attending classes after his quarantine was completed. The professor looked physically exhausted lately, more so every single day, and he wondered what else the wizard had going on that would cause the dark circles under his eyes that - in just the right light - mirrored Harry's own. It couldn't just be the Leukemia, because the Gryffindor had been trying really hard to handle as much of it himself now that he'd gone this long in chemotherapy and knew what to expect. He no longer needed someone right by his side anymore. Assuming it had something to do with Draco's previous and current situation, he was going through the conversations they'd all had to see if he could find any clues to what was going on.

"What happened with Lupin yesterday?" Snape asked, just as Harry was about to excuse himself to his bedroom, deciding sitting out with the two Slytherins wouldn't help him think. The timing was particular enough that it couldn't be a coincidence, to which Harry narrowed his eyes. The previous constant scratching of Draco's quill stopped at the question which echoed across the stone walls and floor, and a deafening silence filled the air between them.

"Why do you think something happened?" Harry tried to keep his voice even, so he didn't show how nervous he was by the question.

The professor laid his reading across his lap, much in the same way Draco had when Harry saw him from the corridor. "For one, you haven't said a word as to how the visit went, but mostly because the werewolf was… disturbed when I arrived back. I have my assumptions, but would like to hear your reaction."

Draco gave scowl when Snape had called Remus a werewolf, fueling Harry's anger once again. Yes, that is what the other Gryffindor _technically_ was, but it was a very derogatory way of going about giving him a title.

"It was nothing," Harry growled out, his teeth clenched. "I'm going to bed."

"Harry," Snape sternly called.

"No! Just leave it alright?"

There was no way he could tell Snape what Remus had accused him of yesterday. Given a couple of days Harry knew he would forgive his former professor, but he needed that time to cool down. Maybe then he could explain what had happened.

He'd made it almost out of view before turning around to the sight of two sets of eyes - one of steeled grey and the other onyx black - watching him practically hobble away from them.

"I'll be there in a moment to set up your nutrients for the night," Snape commented, to which Harry sadly nodded. In his mind he was protecting both Snape and Remus from each other; the two people he deeply cared about and absolutely didn't want fighting with him stuck in the middle.

~~~~SS~~~~

**_Friday 7, February 1997_ **

Severus knew he shouldn't have asked what happened between Harry and Lupin on Saturday after his chemotherapy. All the werewolf had to do was make sure Harry stayed comfortable and the professor had no doubt in his mind that Lupin was practically on top of him the whole day. It was hard to watch someone you cared about - he used that term loosely because it wasn't like Lupin had tried to be there for Harry previously - go through what Harry was and not try to help every small way possible. But he knew the young Gryffindor well enough to know he needed to maintain as much independence as he could through this, and by over helping, it would yield the opposite effect.

Going back to his own actions of that night, he had absolutely no idea what had gotten into him to ask. Something about the dead quiet space, interrupted only by the sound of Draco's quill scratching as he wrote up his account of what had happened at the Quidditch match, had gotten to him. The Order and the Aurors - in that priority - would review his detailed description for any clues of what could have happened that afternoon. Given the odd reaction of the Snitch, it was believed that somehow mid-game, the real Snitch had been replaced with the attack version, however there was no sign of any intruder on the grounds that day. That simple fact kept him alert throughout the week. If Albus came through, Draco would be safely hidden somewhere with protection from the Order this weekend and he could then breathe a little easier.

By the middle of the week, the three residents of the dungeon quarters had fallen into some sort of routine, if that was what one would call it. Draco was able to leave for classes, so long as he was there for meals; the thought being that mealtime with the other Slytherins was tempting fate a little too much compared to a classroom where the professor would be able to keep a closer watch over the students. In his own class, he'd taken the liberty of assigning permanent dueling partners until Easter break where he was able to not-so-randomly pair Draco with Dean Thomas, who was a surprisingly competent dueling partner for the Slytherin, but wouldn't take a fatal shot; at least not in class. It also gave him the appearance of it being a fully random selection and being able to keep his agenda at least partially hidden. The Slytherins had to know about the Malfoy heir's departure from the common room and for that he thought a bit of the truth would do them well in their subterfuge. So on Sunday night he stood in the common room, with his students surrounding him making him feel like a piece of meat dangling in front of a pack of wolves, and he articulated that the Malfoys immediately insisted Draco be held separate from the student body outside of his classes until a full investigation could be completed. With a look of disgust upon his face to help sell the partial lie, he made sure to emphasize that the headmaster had to comply, though only grudgingly so. They didn't buy it, he knew that the instant he left, nevertheless what's done was done and he vowed he'd do whatever it took to keep the blonde safe.

Harry had not taken to the new living arrangements well. He really had hoped that by having the week off of the chemotherapy tablets - which he suspected had been causing much of Harry's emotional strain - the Gryffindor would ease back into his usual self, except that had not happened right away. To help him feel a little less smothered by the arrangements, Severus had taken to doing his marking or any other classroom activities in his home or classroom office. So far, his heavy wards had not shown any issues between the two classmates.

That was how he ended up using his classroom office on Friday evening in an attempt to give Harry and Draco their space. Should they decide to actually speak to one another - a surprising revelation from this week as it seemed neither teenager was particularly keen on starting a conversation - he thought they could learn a few things; each with his own unique viewpoint on the other's situation. This was an idea he'd had way back when Draco first started on his path to redemption in July and it'd only gotten stronger as time went on. Deep inside, his instincts were telling him that their mutual alliance would be vital to winning this war. While his instincts hadn't been the best as of late, it was still a feeling he was unwilling to let go.

The knock on his door drew his attention up from the seventh year exams he'd been marking. Minerva was in the doorway wringing her aged hands, but not in the nervous way he'd so often seen Harry and Draco do. Resisting the urge to jump to conclusions, he motioned to the chair across from his desk in hopes his colleague would take a seat, thus confirming that there was no emergency. Fortunately, she accepted his offer.

"How are you doing, Severus?" She got straight to the point.

Clenching his jaw, he answered, "I'm currently marking seventh year exams and finding errors I'd expect out of Longbottom-" he ignored her pointed glare at the insult to her lion, "-how do you think I'm doing, Minerva?"

"Then let me specify that a little more you," she gave a small smile as he conjured two glasses and filled them both from the firewhiskey he'd brought from his quarters specifically for tonight. "How are Harry and Mr Malfoy taking to their new living situation?"

"Would it be more troublesome if I told you that this week has been quite quiet in my quarters?"

"I'd certainly question why that is," she responded. "Given the situation both boys have found themselves in, I would expect them to be anything but calm."

"Agreed," he said, although just because he agreed with that statement did not make it true. "We're surviving, Minerva, no need to worry yourself over our account."

A still silence came over the unlikely of friends. He could see a question or request in her eyes, but he refused to give into the need to break the quiet. If she had something to tell him, she could approach him herself with it.

"I think it's best if Harry doesn't come back to class," she eventually said once both of their glasses were sitting empty on his desk between them. "The Board of Governors have come back with the notion that once his quarantine is completed in March, there's no way he'll be able to end term with completed marks and therefore should not be utilizing already strained classroom resources."

The last part was said in a way that he knew she was almost repeating verbatim; likely from an official letter or an in-person meeting she attended. As his guardian, she would be responsible for overseeing this aspect of his care, and ultimately Severus would trust her judgement. It wasn't news to him, they all knew he'd have to repeat his sixth year and he wouldn't really be able to do that until his magic was back. But with his coursework in the theory coming back with acceptable marks, he'd hoped it wouldn't draw unwanted attention to him. As the Boy-Who-Lived, he wasn't granted that privilege; any other child would simply be allowed to participate without the grade or the expectation that he would be moving on.

"They're targeting him," he said angrily to the witch across from him. But she knew that already; that the child they'd both chosen to protect - for him far longer than the Ministry knew about - would never get a fair take on life.

Before either of them could say anything, a piece of parchment appeared on his desk with writing he recognized as Albus's before he'd picked it up.

"I'm needed in the headmaster's office," he explained, and highly considered pouring another glass of firewhiskey, but decided against it. "Hopefully it has to do with Draco's next arrangements."

The headmaster was cutting it a little close, nevertheless it was better than nothing. With any luck, he would have some news on where at least Draco and Narcissa, with or without the Malfoy patriarch, would be heading next.

The all too familiar walk to the headmaster's office was far too quiet. At this time on a Friday night, most students were already back in their common rooms or the Great Hall ready to start their weekend and he found himself envious of their naivety of the war around them. The sound of his quick footsteps rang across the empty corridor as he was both anxious and dreading to know what would come of his student.

So when he walked into the office he'd spent more time in this year than any previous year, in either reality, he didn't expect to hear the elderly wizard declare, "Young Mr Malfoy will need to stay put a little longer in your care."

It took every skill he had ever honed as a spy not to react to this news. The headmaster was seated behind his desk, writing a missive and had barely lifted his head when delivering the statement in a move he knew was supposed to make it appear as if it were not as big of an issue as it was.

"May I inquire as to why?"

"As I've previously mentioned," Albus placed his quill down carefully and folded his hands in an overly patronizing way, "I've managed to make contact with Narcissa Malfoy and she will help us, however she's requested time to get their affairs in order. She needs time to make her own arrangements."

This was absolutely ridiculous. Upon hearing that her son was essentially given a guaranteed ticket to Azkaban by the Dark Lord's task, and then possibly being targeted for death, her first reaction was to 'make her own arrangements?'

"And in the meantime?" He asked incredulously, "We just let her live with the Dark Lord knowing that we're trying to get involved? You've officially lost your mind."

"Severus," the other wizard said in a way that the former spy knew he wasn't going to like the next sentence. "You of all people could never forget what a mother would do for her son. You personally know what a parent would do for his son."

His heart ached at the reminder he never needed on both of those accounts.

"Narcissa is hardly Lily."

"While that may be true," Albus stood to greet his defense professor, "she is not a marked Death Eater, and she would do anything to save Draco from his current fate."

"Being a mother does not immediately measure one's ability to sacrifice for her child."

It was a bitter statement marked for his own mother and not Narcissa. He knew the latter would do whatever it took to save her child; she was brave in a way that was more like a Gryffindor than a Slytherin, but she would accomplish it using all the cunning and self-preservation that his snakes were known for. If anyone could pull it off, Narcissa would and they - at least her and Draco - would be better off for it. So until that moment came, the blonde would have to sit tight.

_This is going to be a great way to start the weekend._

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry woke up Saturday morning in a strange mood. On the one hand, today would be the last round of IV chemotherapy for the next fortnight; a whole four days longer than his longest stretch yet. But on the other hand he was starting another seven days of the tablet chemotherapy medication - three per day - and he had just started feeling more normal from the previous round of it. To add insult to injury, as of last night Draco was still living there, and while technically Snape had assured him the blonde would be gone by his hard quarantine, Harry had hoped he wouldn't be sticking around for today's chemotherapy.

Luck was not on his side when he entered the kitchen and Draco was sitting at the table shuffling his breakfast of a poached egg, fried tomato, and toast, appearing more agitated today with a firm scowl on in his face, than he had any of the previous days he'd been here. Harry took his own seat at his customary bowl of porridge that had zero chance of staying down today and his morning medications, which Snape must have set out for him as the professor was nowhere to be seen. Harry took the tablets three at a time ignoring Draco's stare he could feel upon him.

"Muggle medicine is so inefficient," the Slytherin said in disgust, "how are those… things supposed to do anything?"

Harry wanted to laugh at the pettiness of the statement, and he probably would have had he not been surprised by Draco's acknowledgment of their cohabitation for almost the first time since he moved in last week. They had been taking their meals together, but until now the other teen had been more or less silent.

"Well," Harry resisted the urge to respond with full sarcasm, "since wizards don't actually have a treatment for Leukemia, it's really the best option I have."

"But they do," Draco challenged him, "there are potions out there that they use."

Harry squinted his eyes. There were many ways the other teen could have found out that information, the first - and most logical - being as part of his healer lessons, but the most probable was because of Voldemort. Harry didn't want to think about what that meant. He knew that brewing potions to combat the chemotherapy was the most likely reason for the dark wizard wanting Snape's capture, but he didn't know if Draco knew that.

"I must just enjoy torturing myself, I guess," Harry said sadly.

"What do they even do?"

Harry gave a hard sigh, "Well, three of them this week are specific to my chemo, but the rest are mostly to prevent things, like pain, or nausea… or infections."

"Like the pneumonia?"

The question was one that wouldn't have surprised him from anyone else. That event must have had a big impact on the Malfoy heir for him to remember it now and Harry wondered why that was.

"Exactly like that," Harry replied carefully, but his attention was pulled to the doorway where Snape had just walked in.

"Madam Pomfrey is here," Snape promptly said. Harry went to stand, but the professor gestured for him to stay seated. "We need to talk this morning before your treatment."

No part of that statement filled Harry with confidence that it would be a topic he would like. He looked over at Draco pretty sure that he didn't want the Slytherin there if they were discussing anything about his health.

"He can stay. He's been notified of this last night," Snape said, very calculated, "Unfortunately, there's been a change of plans and Draco will need to stay with us until further notice."

It was said so formally that the only thing running through Harry's mind was that he hoped the other wizard hadn't been told the news in that manner. Knowing Snape, it could go either way, but now Harry knew the cause of Draco's foul mood.

"Why?" Harry bluntly asked.

"It's none of your business," Draco spoke up and then pushing his chair back so fast it would have toppled over had Harry not caught it, he practically ran from the room.

"He's clearly taking the news well," Harry replied, but he couldn't blame Draco. If the young wizard were in his position he would probably be just as angry.

"Please, don't cause problems," Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, "that's all I ask of you."

"Me?" Harry asked almost insulted, "he hasn't said more than two words to me since he's gotten here and when he does it's to say that I'm using inefficient medication. I'm not going to go out of my way to say anything to him."

Of course, that all sounded good and fine talking to Snape that morning, but about an hour or two before dinnertime - when his chemotherapy had already taken its toll on his body - he was desperate for something to distract him from his own misery. Through process of elimination, the Gryffindor assumed Snape was in his office because he never spent time in his bedroom besides to sleep, and the sitting room and kitchen were empty when Harry slowly emerged from his bedroom. He walked carefully - pulling his IV of morphine with him, though it wasn't nearly enough to alleviate his pain - across the sitting room, making sure not to trip on his shaking legs until he was standing in front of the newest addition to their home. The dark wooden door was cracked open and Harry could hear the scratching of a quill on the other side. Lifting a hand and saying a small wish to come out alive after this, he knocked on the door, pushing it open a little further in the process.

"Yeah?" Came Draco's reply on the other side.

Audibly gulping and trying to slow the beating of his heart, Harry pushed the door open. Draco's room looked so much different than his own that he was literally taken aback. The walls matched the rest of the quarters with light grey painted stones and the four poster bed was in the same location as in Harry's room, but in contrast to the dark wood of his own, Draco's was made of a very light colored wood. He had a green bedspread, but not nearly as comfortable looking as Harry's favorite green one. The Gryffindor wondered where he'd gotten it from because it wasn't the same Slytherin green he'd expect from the Slytherin dorms and he doubted the blonde had been able to get anything from his home to stay here. Next to the bed was a very basic looking desk that was so full of parchment, the ink pot was barely visible, and on the wall flushed with the door he'd just entered from was a tall wardrobe. Finally, directly across the room from him was a door that he assumed led to the lavatory since he'd not run into Draco once in the lavatory his own room was connected to; he'd spent most of the day in there and would have known if they'd been sharing it. Out of all of that though, the biggest difference was the overall atmosphere of the room. While Harry's was light and airy, Draco's room was dark and sullen, not unlike the teen that lived there. It took Harry a minute of looking around the room to find that the source of at least the darkness was due to the enchanted window being turned off.

"What's the view?" He asked taking a calculated step into the room. His body was weak from the chemotherapy and it ached just standing there from the small walk from his own bedroom to his new housemate's room. It was a risk coming. Draco could easily throw him out - verbally, physically, magically - but it felt like the right thing to do given the circumstances and it was infinitely better than waiting for his own circumstances to improve.

Instead of saying a single word, the Slytherin - who was arranging something in his wardrobe - waved his hand and a view of under the black lake appeared before him. While it did nothing to help brighten up the room, as his own window did, it was relaxing to watch the sea creatures swimming across the window. The view went black just as the giant squid was crossing.

"Why'd you turn it off?" He asked, hoping to get something for all his work in getting over here.

"I'm guessing Severus wanted me to feel a little more comfortable-" he spat out that last word, "- but I don't want to want to be reminded of where I can't be."

It made sense to Harry, though he wouldn't say so. When he was in quarantine the first time, he didn't like being reminded of where he couldn't go, but he did love the comfort his enchanted window gave him. It reminded him that there was something out there waiting for him when his life could go back to normal.

"What are you doing here, Potter?"

"So we're back to Potter now, are we?" Harry boldly asked. He was dying to sit down. Now in addition to the pain, it was getting hard to breathe from the effort of standing.

"I don't know," Draco narrowed his eyes distractedly, "for Merlin's sake, _Harry_ , would you just sit down before you pass out."

The Gryffindor gave a small relieved chuckle and made his way with his IV stand to the chair at the desk. Immediately, it became easier to breathe by just sitting.

"So what's going on?" Harry asked out loud, but in the back of his mind he told himself this was a bad idea. He felt self-conscious in his navy flannel pyjamas next to Draco's pristine black long-sleeved button-up and matching black trousers. His eyes lingered on the other teen's left forearm for an extra second. "I know something's been going on, and I'm guessing it has to do with why you're staying here, but you were off even before the Quidditch attack."

"You think you know everything, do you?" Draco responded. "Of course, because you're Harry bloody Potter, the only one that's _not_ disposable in this war."

"I wouldn't say that-" Harry started, but was immediately interrupted.

"You don't have to say it! Everyone else says it for you."

The Gryffindor shook his head. This was not going well. Why did he think it would be a good idea to subject himself to this?

Standing to leave, deciding to cut his losses early, he told the blonde, "I just thought you could use someone to talk to, is all. Guess I was wrong."

It wasn't a far distance between where he was at the desk and the door leading back to the sitting room, but it seemed to take him forever to cross it.

"I'm going into hiding."

It was said so quietly that had the room not been so silent, he probably wouldn't have heard Draco say it. He turned, and was now facing the other wizard who was sitting on his bed.

"Why?"

"Because I failed the Dark Lord," Draco said honestly, "or at least I'm going to. It's either that or end up in Azkaban.

"And here I am going to classes like nothing's going to change. Or talking to Hermione like I'm not just going to disappear someday on her. And I can't tell her because it'd put her in danger… more danger than I already put her in for my own desires."

Harry shivered at the last statement. He didn't want to think about Draco's desires with his best friend, except he had the Slytherin talking and that was a good sign.

"You might as well sit back down," the Slytherin called out pointing to the desk chair again in a very un-Malfoy-like manner. "Now all of that has gotten pushed back because my _mother_ needs to get her affairs in order, whatever that means. Not that you could understand, it's not like your mother told the Dark Lord she needed time to think before standing in front of the killing curse for you."

There was something in Draco's voice - envy, Harry thought - that made him ache inside and not because of the chemotherapy. How bad did someone's life have to be to envy the orphan with cancer? That's not even mentioning how he was raised; as far as he knew, the Slytherin didn't know anything about that. What was going on with the other boy that he'd be envious of Harry's situation? Ironically, Harry would give up his parents' honor of dying for him if it meant he could have them back with him. Snape was doing everything he could, but some days he wanted to feel his mum hold him when he was at his lowest.

"You should tell Hermione," Harry confidently said. "I know you want to keep her safe, but you'd be surprised what she can handle. I'm probably not the best person to talk to about this kind of stuff, but I get the feeling you're supposed to be able to talk about these things with your girlfriend."

"There's something we can agree on," Draco gave a small chuckle, "you're not the best person to talk about with this sort of stuff. Hell, your cousin would be better at this point."

It was an odd statement that struck Harry the wrong way, "What are you talking about?"

"I think he's dating or… whatever the Hufflepuff girl, Bones."

"You're kidding me?!" He felt bad that he hadn't thought about Dudley since starting this phase of chemotherapy, but apparently his muggle cousin had truly found comfort within the castle. Again, Harry found himself happy for the teen and a little jealous that he would now be the only one without a pair in their group; at least until Draco left.

"Want to play some chess or something?" Draco eventually asked when neither knew where to go with the conversation. A chess board came flying over from underneath the wardrobe and settled on the bed between them. Then, Harry moved slowly onto the other side of the bed to be closer to the board, leaning against the wall to help support himself.

The two wizards didn't speak much during the game, which had to be paused twice for Harry to be sick - confirming that the extra door in Draco's bedroom did indeed lead to a lavatory - but somehow the conflict that had been lingering between them was gone. When they did talk, it wasn't about Death Eaters or cancer, the closest they got to either of those taboo topics was their equal feelings that it was pointless to continue in their respective classes. They joked that at some point, maybe they'd return to Hogwarts together to finish out the education they'd be missing. Harry was losing the game miserably pretty early on, not at all surprising given that he had a hard time focusing in general when his body wasn't fighting against constant nausea and pain, nonetheless he was enjoying the company and new perspective that Draco provided. Unfortunately, the game was far from over when Snape walked in the room to call the two teenagers for dinner. It didn't matter, because by that point, Draco had already put the game away as Harry had somehow fallen asleep mid-game and was now laying across the bed with Draco at his desk continuing to work on his statement for the Aurors due that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Pushing the Limits


	61. Pushing the Limits

~~~~HP~~~~

The conversation between Harry and Draco - and embarrassingly falling asleep during their chess game - on Saturday changed the dynamic between the young wizards and the atmosphere of the dungeon quarters as a whole. Draco seemed much more content with the situation than when he first arrived and Harry was relishing in the fact that he was finally starting his two weeks of no IV chemotherapy. The first week he still had the tablets, which caused his stomach to ache at times, but with no actual vomiting, it felt like a vacation to him and if this was what life in Maintenance would be like then he was ready to finish off Phase Three. Those two simple facts made the tension that was previously in the air almost disappear.

What he didn't like to think about, something both Snape and Draco had been cognizant of and therefore hadn't mentioned it, was that after these two weeks of IV chemotherapy free, he would go into hard quarantine. At his last treatment on Saturday, Dr Swanson promised - though it sounded more like a threat to him - to be back mid-week before his _hell weeks_ started and help walk him and the other two residents through what that entailed. Going over it in his head about it now made him nervous and his palms became clammy, so he tried his hardest not to think about it at all. _Ignorance is bliss_ , is what he told himself and that was fine by him. When Saturday the 22nd got here, if he was told he'd need to stay in his bedroom for the two weeks, he didn't want to ruminate on it now. After all, he might not even feel up for moving outside of his bedroom and lavatory, meaning it would be wasted energy anyways.

The wizards all fell into a routine early in the week. Each morning, they started the day at the small kitchen table and had breakfast together. For Harry that mostly consisted of scrambled eggs - a food he was already starting to hate - with peanut butter toast and yoghurt with fruit mixed in. It gave him a good balance if he ended up not eating it all, so he wasn't feeling as stressed out about counting his nutrients. It also helped that Dr Swanson had added the midday tube feeding, which also took some of the pressure off the actual food he was consuming. To Harry, it appeared like Draco ate less than he did on any given morning even though unlike Harry's very calculated meals, the two Slytherins were provided the same options that were being served in the Great Hall. Since Harry never paid attention to Draco's - or Snape's for that matter - eating habits before, for all he knew the blonde didn't usually eat a big breakfast anyway. Most mornings the Malfoy heir had a hard boiled egg, or a bowl of cold cereal before he went running off to class. What he did notice almost immediately that first calm day of breakfast was that much to his surprise, the Slytherin teen was definitely not a morning person.

During the day, Harry spent most of it in the sitting room sketching or working through his assignments while Draco and Snape went to their classes, or in Snape's case mostly worked feverishly in his office doing something Harry had no idea what. With the break from chemotherapy, the young wizard intended to catch up on his missing school work, but found himself daydreaming of what he'd do once all of this was over. He still had Voldemort to kill, but if the evil dark wizard had Leukemia too, then maybe he'd just die from it, leaving the Gryffindor without any need to actually battle him. Each day, that idea filled his head as he started to put his own pieces together. Voldemort couldn't die with the soul fragment inside Harry. So what if he just lived with the horrifying symptoms of the cancer - being unable to die from them - for the next three years until the soul piece could be removed. At that point, maybe Harry would finally get lucky for once and Voldemort would simply slip off into sleep and die from the Leukemia. Something about the irony that the megalomaniac was dying from a muggle disease was fitting and Harry chose that as his next sketching design to help get him through his two hard weeks of treatments.

Every afternoon, the two Slytherins and Harry would get back together for lunch. This meal for Harry was kind of moot because he had his new afternoon nutrient feeding that Snape prepared and set up for him every day, but he still nibbled at the table mostly to stay social; per Snape's and Dr Swanson's instructions. Usually, he had almonds, avocados, or yoghurt with granola if he didn't already have it at breakfast. Draco would tell him about what classes had been like that morning, especially Mondays and Wednesdays when he had defense and could fill Snape in on the things the professor might not have seen with the other students; which Harry was pretty sure never happened. Overall, it appeared like Draco was safe in his classes, with Slughorn's Potion's class being the only place he'd run into any issues and that had more to do with Slughorn's negligence than the fact that the class was a better place to stage an attack.

The period before dinner, Snape would leave for his open office hours, giving Harry and his student tutor for the day the privacy to go through his lessons without one of the harshest professors in the school present. Now that Draco was feeling better overall, the Gryffindor noticed that his sessions had gotten less tense with both the Slytherin and Hermione and since those two students accounted for 80% of his tutoring lessons, it was a significant improvement overall.

Finally, he had an official lesson with one of his professors for an hour and half after dinner. During these lessons, Snape was usually in his office - clearly not caring if he intimidated Professors Flitwick, Slughorn, or Sprout - and Draco was working on his own assignments in his bedroom. Occasionally, the blonde would come out and sit in on a lesson, especially if it were a particularly difficult one he had struggled with in class, but most of the time the other teen stayed away. It was these lessons that gave Harry something to look forward to during the horrible Phase Three side effect because he was allowed to use more than elementary-level spells under the supervision of a professor. This meant for the first time since last year, he could actually practice the spells he had been learning theory on for months. Yes, he'd been a bit depressed when he found out his "magic time" was not overlapping with his classroom time, allowing him to feel that much more normal, but it would have to do. Outside of his lessons, he could still use a little magic when a professor wasn't present, but it had to be limited to things like: _lumos_ , _accio, wingardium leviosa,_ or _incendio;_ the last one being strictly to light the fireplace because Harry found himself constantly cold in this phase no matter how many layers he wore underneath his red blanket as a cover.

By Wednesday in Harry's first week of his chemotherapy break, when his tablet medication brought back his foul, aggressive mood, it was far easier for everyone to handle it. Draco was told, using healer level language, what was going on within the Gryffindor's body with the specific chemotherapy tablet to cause his change in behavior and though it frustrated Harry to be spoken about like a diagram in one of Snape's muggle medical books, he noticed Draco's patience level increased dramatically. That wasn't to say that Harry got away with his irritable mood. No, there had been plenty of times where Snape needed to step in and more-or-less give Harry a "teenager time out" for his attitude. This had been one of those nights after his Potion's tutoring with Slughorn.

"I don't see why I need Potion's to be an Auror," Harry complained to no one in particular. He was in the sitting room with Snape and Draco, frustratingly working on the essay Slughorn had just assigned him, but even with Snape's old book, he was struggling to stay focused enough to get a good start. "It's not like I'll need to be brewing anything while I'm about to catch a dark wizard."

Snape gave a very exhausted sigh and again Harry wondered what else the professor was dealing with besides Harry, Draco, and his N.E.W.T. classes. Thinking through it all, it had seemed almost too quiet on the Voldemort front. Harry hadn't gotten even a twinge in his scar outside of that random time with Lupin, but he couldn't remember any of the details. He'd been practicing his Occlumency, with quarantine there wasn't any good reason _not_ to since he had plenty of time, nevertheless he doubted he'd gotten that good at it to keep Voldemort completely out.

"What would you do," Snape asked with his right hand rubbing small circles around his dark eyebrows, "if you walked into a scene where a person had taken a mysterious potion and you were required to find the antidote, which all Aurors would have readily available with them. Or should you need to identify and use specific healing potions in the field for either yourself, your partners, or a victim of a crime. I would hope the person responsible for my safety could tell the difference between a blood-replenishing potion, antidote to common poisons, or an anti-paralysis potion and the Draught of the Living Dead or Moonseed Poison."

Of course, Harry hadn't thought of those specific scenarios. In his mind, an Auror was responsible for hunting down and catching the next Voldemort before he gained this much power. Or he'd be called where raids were taking place and he'd be using a myriad of spells to help protect the innocent victims; like what he imagined happened at the second Privet Drive attack.

"I hadn't thought about that," Harry conceded.

"No one ever does," Snape replied, "if I had a knut every time I had to explain to a student why potions are required for occupations outside Potion's Master and Healer, I'd be a very rich man."

Harry tried his best to ignore the snickering coming from Draco at the other armchair, but after being frustrated from his classes that day and his medication having started to hit him, he stood no chance in ignoring the blonde Slytherin.

"What are you laughing at?" Harry called out, his face turned red and his hands started shaking. Misery loved company. That was his only excuse - and not a good one at that - for the words that came out of his month next, "You're completely mental if you think you'll live to see your Healer days."

At the blatant insult, Draco stood, his large arithmancy book tumbling off his lap with a crash as it hit the stone floor. Harry didn't even flinch at the loud noise or the intended threat that came with it. His thin, cracked lips were set in a line as he waited to hear whatever retort the Slytherin would come up with. What he didn't expect was the blonde to lose complete control over the situation and what went from a quiet evening working on their assignments became an arena to air their injustices.

"Says the person who can't take two steps out of this room without catching his death. Are you really that much of an ungrateful git?!" The blonde yelled back as he charged towards the sofa. For a split second, Harry thought he saw a tear forming in the corner of his grey eyes. "You really have absolutely no idea what all the people around you are sacrificing as you sit here not being able to lift a finger for the cause. Are you even keeping track of all the people whose lives have been flipped upside down for you? Or the people who've died for you? Because it's a fucking lot at this point!"

Time seemed to slow almost to a stop as Harry prepared for the punch that was most definitely coming his way. When nothing came though, he cracked open his eyes to the sight of Snape physically holding Draco's pressed collar of his shirt before pulling the blonde back into the armchair and standing between his two charges.

"That's enough!" Snape yelled in a booming voice that sent vibrations down Harry's spine, "Both of you, to your rooms!"

At first neither teenager made a move, both looking at the other with disdain for the situation they found themselves in. Somehow by spitting out the evil, ugly truth to each other released an unknown anxiety. Harry might not survive until he could become an Auror, just like Draco. It was something they had in common; a parasitic thought that sat in the back of their minds that neither wanted to feed. And yet that simple phrase yelled across their sitting room, bringing attention to its presence, helped to heal that parasite better than ignoring it had ever done.

"NOW!" Came Snape's angry voice vibrating against the stone walls.

Harry's bright green eyes went wide as he was reminded of what Snape wanted him to do. He'd let the man, his mentor, down and he was ashamed of himself for that. Living with the professor for eight months now, having gone through the ups and downs they had, he knew to obey. Snape gave him a lot of leniency when he was having a reaction to his chemotherapy, however the young wizard knew the limits and he was quickly approaching them, if he hadn't crossed them already.

Abandoning his books on the sofa, he took off running to his bedroom not caring that it was a juvenile reaction to do so. The heavy door slammed in his wake, vibrating across the walls and floor, and for good measure - to try to release some of his built up aggression - he kicked the edge of his bed and immediately regretted that action when his right toes started to ache. Snape wouldn't come in to see him; the professor would know by now that the young wizard needed time to cool off first. Tomorrow, he could apologize to both Slytherins for that immature comment that started it all because he didn't know why he needed to take Potion's for his Auror career. It was stupid; it was petty and he needed to do better.

The Gryffindor tossed and turned with the sound of Draco's accusations ringing in his ear. Of course he knew all the people sacrificing their lives, be it literally - like Charlie Weasley - or figuratively, like Snape. It was a thought that haunted him every single day, and yet one night of losing control and it had been thrown back in his face. He didn't want these people to sacrifice for him, he never asked them to. Hell, he didn't even know about his role in the wizarding world until he was eleven. He would never know how exactly they got to this situation - he was far too close to it right now - but he would need to be careful about what he said going forward.

Somehow he managed to fall in and out of a light sleep until sometime around half past two in the morning, when he finally gave up his quest for any decent rest and decided to try some sketching to keep his mind occupied. Hopefully the amount of focus required combined with the mundane strokes of his pencil would be enough to lull him into the much desired sleep his body needed. As he got out of bed, he looked through the contents of his desk and started to panic when he found no sign of his notebook. Trying to think clearly, he finally remembered that he'd left it in the sitting room with the intention of working on his Tom Riddle picture - he made the decision to use the bastard's regular name for this piece as he was drawing the evil wizard succumbing to a muggle disease - before he'd stormed from the room to his bedroom.

So, he opened his bedroom door as quietly as he could, for some reason thinking back to the times at Privet Drive, sneaking downstairs when he wasn't locked in his room over night, and made his way down the short corridor. When he saw lights flickering from the sitting room against the opposite wall in the corridor, he instantly knew that he wasn't the only one awake at this early hour.

Carefully, and quietly, he made his way into the sitting room. Snape was sitting in the same position he had been in before banishing Harry and Draco to their respective bedrooms earlier that night - or technically the previous night - but instead of the journal he'd been reading, the man was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his head cradled in his left hand. But it was the man's expression that caught Harry off guard; he was staring emptily off at the wall across from him that was filled to the brim with books. It was the same bookcase that Harry had replaced the notebook he'd read way back before his first magical test, where he found the word _Horcrux_. That single event felt forever long ago, and yet was still so relevant in his life. The professor was still dressed in his long sleeved, black Oxford shirt and black trousers from earlier that day, suggesting he had not been to bed yet. Walking further into the room, Harry saw his left sleeve was rolled up to his elbow and a bandage was tightly wrapped around where the Gryffindor knew his dark mark was permanently located. A wave of guilt passed through him. He'd noticed the former Death Eater had been looking tired lately, but he hadn't given it much thought beyond that simple observation and questioning why. The man in front of him now appeared in pain and Harry knew there was nothing that could really be done for him. He was no stranger to pain, even more so now, but he also had an entire team of people working to make sure he was as comfortable as possible, whereas Snape was literally alone in his battle.

"You're supposed to be sleeping, Harry," the professor said, startling the young wizard.

"Sorry, sir," he uncomfortably replied, "I was just coming out for my sketch pad."

As Harry approached the professor, he could feel the pain, stress, and worry filtering from his body into the air around them.

"That will not aid you in sleeping," Snape's baritone voice explained, "therefore my statement remains, that you should be asleep."

"Well," Harry logically thought, "just because I should be sleeping doesn't mean I can. Why aren't you sleeping?"

The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He very well knew why Snape was awake, it was obvious his mark had started burning.

"I am not the child here."

Every fiber in the Gryffindor wanted to disagree and state that he was hardly a child anymore, but having spent too much time being overly confrontational that day, he managed not to say it. A feat he was immensely proud of himself for.

"My scar hasn't been hurting," he said, taking it upon himself to sit unsolicited onto the sofa. "Does that mean Tom hasn't been out… you know?"

"Killing muggles?" Snape offered and Harry gave a small nod, "Not necessarily... you could be improving at Occlumency-" Harry gave a small chuckle; they both knew he hadn't gotten that good, "- however, it's believed that the Dark Lord has not been taking part in any of the recent raids. Our watch hasn't seen him leave since New Year's Eve."

Oh. The young wizard had truly hoped that there simply hadn't been any at all and that was the reason for the silence.

"So have there been killings?" He didn't know why he asked a question that he already knew the answer to. If there hadn't been killings, Snape wouldn't look so distraught, especially now.

"Is that what's going on tonight?" Harry asked when Snape didn't answer the previous question. The Gryffindor gestured to Snape's mark just so he knew they'd be on the same page; so Snape knew Harry understood what was going on.

"I hope not," the former spy eventually said, "Draco's there now."

"What?!" Harry couldn't contain his astonishment, "Are you all mental? Why the bloody hell would you send him back after he was the target of an attack?"

"Supposed target," Snape corrected.

"That's bollocks and you know it," Harry continued on, feeling the injustice for his latest housemate, "if he's suspected as enough of a target to live here, then he shouldn't be going back to Voldemort's side."

In his fury, he'd completely forgotten about using the name in front of Snape. And now that he was thinking about it, he would need to be more conscious about it in front of Draco too.

"He has all the proper precautionary measures in place and the information he can bring us is exceedingly valuable," Harry heard the words the professor was saying, but his mind went back to the conversation he'd had with the blonde Slytherin - _because you're Harry bloody Potter, the only one that's not disposable in this war_ \- was that the way everyone thought about him? All these people were putting their lives in danger and he was sitting hiding away trying to live when deep down he knew he had to die for Voldemort to die.

"I don't care what information he brings back," Harry found himself saying. "He shouldn't be going. He's only sixteen!"

"Trust me, Harry," Snape leaned over and took Harry's right hand in his own, "I know this situation is bad all around, but this was the best option. If his cover hasn't been compromised, which we likely would have heard about by now and, to help prevent that from happening Professor Dumbledore has given him some very valuable information to take back. We need to make it appear as business as usual."

It really made no sense to Harry. How could his cover still be intact if Voldemort wanted to kill him? Unless of course the attack wasn't on the megalomaniac's command, but what did that say about what was going on in the world of the Death Eaters? If one of his followers set up the Quidditch attack independently, that might mean Voldemort wasn't able to make that decision - maybe because of the Leukemia - or there's trouble in Death Eater paradise and that would mean there's a rogue set of them going… against, for lack of a better word… Voldemort? The latter thought was terrifying, so he decided to focus on the idea that Voldemort could be too sickly to run his own missions.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, his fingers intertwined tightly together. "For what I said earlier."

"I am hardly the one you need to be apologizing to," Snape replied. Harry obviously knew that, but since Draco wasn't here to apologize to, it seemed like the next best option. "I understand that this medication is pushing you past your limits, but what you said was insensitive to those around you risking their lives against the Dark Lord. Do what you have to do in order to find a way to get through this next week. If that means sitting in your room when Draco's here and vice versa, I will help make it happen."

"I'll do better," Harry said quickly. He'd said those words before, to prevent the feeding tube he had to get anyways. Lately it seemed there was always something he needed to work on. "I only have two doses left, I can keep things together through them."

"Thank you, Harry," Snape genuinely responded. "Go back to bed now."

Harry nodded, hating to feel like he'd let Snape down yet again. Without another word, he stood to go back to his room and was almost to the corridor where his room was located when he heard the floo roar to life. He gave a quick glance into the sitting room - catching the sight of Draco's disheveled blonde hair, a stark contrast to his black Death Eater robes - before making his way into his bedroom. He'd caused enough problems today and didn't need to cause anymore this morning.

~~~SS~~~~

_Earlier that night_

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" Severus yelled at Draco, following him into the blonde's bedroom after separating the potential fight between the two teenagers residing with him. It really was a good thing he'd been used to raising a moody teenager, though he had to admit this was much more complicated than he ever had in his old reality. Ultimately, Harry was lucky that Draco didn't take the swing at him before Severus managed to get there and stop him. The last thing he needed was an emergency visit from Dr Swanson because Harry's platelet counts had plummeted from the high dosage of chemotherapy in this phase. That would have been a difficult situation to explain.

"Oh c'mon, Severus," Draco said from his bed, "you can't tell me you've never wanted to say it out loud? He's completely delusional!"

"Like everyone else in this war, he's in an impossible situation, Draco," the professor explained. "All I ask is that you try to keep your own temper under control instead of adding fuel to his fire. You can get your point across just as effectively without the theatrics of throwing a muggle punch."

"So I should hex him next time? Seemed wrong since he can't defend himself with-"

"That is not what I said," Severus rubbed the back of his neck feeling the stress return. After all of this was over - when Harry's cancer was gone and the Dark Lord dead - he was taking a vacation; somewhere far away and completely alone. "Keep your temper under control. What should happen if you had that reaction in front of the Dark Lord?"

His protégé was silent. It was a hard position to be in, and Severus knew it all too well. The irony wasn't lost on him that the interaction he'd just seen was too similar to his own counterpart's goading to Sirius last winter; when he'd more or less told the elder Gryffindor that he was worthlessly sitting on the sidelines while everyone else was out risking their lives - himself most of all. Draco was now in Severus's old position and Harry was in Sirius's. He couldn't let history repeat itself; he flat out refused to let that happen.

The summons hit at half past eleven o'clock that night, and the burning in his mark took him completely by surprise. They'd been planning for this moment, made sure Draco had his emergency port key on hand, given him the information he could feed the Dark Lord, and the charmed galleon that Draco could use should he find himself in danger, but unable to port key out. They would have Order members ready to infiltrate should the young spy find himself in danger and Severus received his distress call. None of that made the professor feel any better about letting the sixteen year old in his care walk out the door to the apparition point and disapparate to the Dark Lord's side. He was tempted to go himself. It would be as simple as taking the same familiar walk Draco would be taking tonight and pressing onto his own mark that burned so fiercely. He wouldn't need his robes or mask, because he wouldn't be welcomed to the inner circle, at least not in that same way. If it weren't for Harry, he would give himself up in a second to save Draco from having to go back there, especially empty handed.

But that wasn't the plan. He knew the Dark Lord couldn't die because of the soul fragment in Harry. So rather than do what he wanted to do tonight, after Draco left he conjured a bandage and charmed it cool to wrap across his burning arm. If Draco was putting his life in danger, he would not use his modified burn salve, standing the burning until his Slytherin charge was back safely. As long as he could still think clearly, it was a plan he was committed to upholding.

The professor wasn't at all surprised to find out that Harry hadn't been able to sleep. What did surprise him was that his scar hadn't been burning. Unlike Severus's mark, he knew Harry's scar didn't always react when the evil wizard called his followers, however some of the raids the Order had been called to had significant damage done. Therefore knowing that Harry had been none-the-wiser to the events meant that Voldemort likely hadn't been present for them; thus confirming Moody's theory that the Dark Lord was not in attendance.

Around three that morning - directly after sending Harry back to bed - Draco returned. He did not appear to be in any pain, at least not physically, however Severus saw the familiar fear and anger sitting in his grey eyes. Without saying a word to each other, Severus gestured for the new spy to follow him into his office, where he would debrief the blonde and help him accept whatever had occurred at the meeting. While he'd sent Harry to bed, he still didn't trust the child not to wander out and therefore this was the best place to speak; where he could set some heavy privacy wards and alarms.

"It wasn't a raid," Draco announced once he was seated across from Severus in his office. "He had me go with Rabastan and _discuss_ my plan to capture you."

This was not good. Given that Draco had been alone - per Harry's vision - the night he'd been tasked with Severus's capture, he assumed no other Death Eaters were to know about the task. If Rabastan knew, it would only be a matter of time before their hands were tied and either Draco had to come through or he had to go into hiding. They had options, none of which were good, but with a modified Polyjuice potion, for example, he might be able to get a convincing replica of himself long enough to get Draco out and hidden. Whoever was the decoy would be guaranteed death, nevertheless, it was one plan he'd had in his head should a contingency to their contingency plan be necessary.

"Luckily," Draco continued arrogantly, but the former spy could see right through his fasçade; he was terrified, "Rabastan likes me a bit after our training over the holidays and just went right into what he would do if it were up to him. Completely skipping the part of making sure I had a solid plan myself."

"Dare I ask what Rabastan would do?"

"They know you go to a muggle pharmacy every two weeks, as well as yours and Potter's aliases," Draco explained, his tone turning serious. "It caused some talk in the Manor when you didn't go last time. You sent Professor McGonagall instead?"

"I did," he confirmed, now feeling like he was the one in the spotlight. "However, I can safely make arrangements to be seen there next time to help ease any suspicion from you."

"Well, they definitely noticed you weren't there," he continued, "but I told them that sometimes you hand things related to Potter over to McGonagall. I don't think they fully bought it, so maybe just don't always send her. Why can't his muggle doctor bring his medicine?"

"She does have a life outside of her work," Severus flatly replied. "Besides, there's other things I need to get outside of his prescriptions, however that may need to change as well."

"That was pretty much what type of 'lessons' Rabastan went over with me," Draco claimed as he held up his wrist to show a platinum bracelet, "like how to find a weakness in your schedule and how to get you there when I did. This is a port key that supposedly will allow me to transport you directly to a cell in the Manor. It won't work in the school wards, showing just how useless these guys are because it won't be suspicious at all for me to go with you outside of the wards, but just in case, I'm going to write down the activation word."

This was getting more serious by the second. Draco grabbed a piece of parchment, Seamus Finnegan's latest exam, and wrote down the word _Mort._ The irony wasn't lost on him as he'd be taken to his death should the word be used.

"I told them about Potter's quarantine, like you'd said I should," the blonde continued, "I'm going to be honest, I didn't think he'd care, but you were right."

Of course he was right. For whatever asinine reason, the Dark Lord thought _he_ had to be the one to kill Harry. He wasn't about to give the wizard any ideas, but had he used muggle methods to kill Harry as an infant instead of using the killing curse, he wouldn't have lost to begin with. Same with in the graveyard two years ago and last year at the Department of Mysteries; had he allowed any of his Death Eaters to kill the young wizard, this would all be over. In the end, the Dark Lord's pride would kill him, but for now it was protecting Harry - and by extension Draco, because Severus was now expected to be quarantined with the Gryffindor - and that was what he'd been planning on when he fed that piece of information for Draco.

"Tell me about the Dark Lord," he moved on to the next topic he had to cover before it got far too late.

Draco went into the long explanation on how the dark wizard did appear to be quite ill and the Healer - to whom Draco still did not know her name - was trying everything she could think of. With Matthew having been killed and no new brewer being brought in while holding out for Severus, the symptoms of the Leukemia would slowly deteriorate his body. He was becoming irrational and unpredictable, two things that were dangerous to both the wizarding and muggle world alike.

"Anything else of significance happen?" Severus asked and to Draco's credit he thought hard about the question before nodding.

"Yeah," the Malfoy heir sat up taller, as if to give himself confidence in whatever he was about to say. "I asked Rabastan who the fuck was trying to kill me on the Quidditch pitch."

Given the subject, he didn't correct the foul language, but he would eventually need to discuss it with the teen.

"And what did you discover?"

"Apparently the Dark Lord had no idea about it," there was a fire in his eyes that Severus hadn't seen before in the teen. "I don't know if he's even aware of it now, but I sure as hell wasn't going to say anything. According to Rabastan, Nott is the most likely culprit."

If that were true, it had been a good call to remove Draco from the dormitories, as Theodore Nott had likely been involved some way. Being one of his own students, it put them in a difficult position. Arresting Nott on Draco's information alone would draw unwanted attention to the spy, so they'd need to target their investigation in a way that they could be led to the answer as if they hadn't been given inside information. There was also the possibility that Rabastan was testing Draco's loyalty and focusing on Theodore Nott would also draw attention to the blonde. Again, he didn't envy Dumbledore's position, but he did trust the man to use the information in the correct way.

"Remember, you cannot take the word of your opposition at face value," Severus commented, treading lightly over the sensitive topic, "However, as Rabastan is the best source of intel on the subject, does he have any guesses as to why Nott wants you dead?"

A firm scowl crossed Draco's face, "If he had any ideas, he didn't share them with me."

"Great work, Draco. I'll take all of this to the headmaster in the morning," he said, nodding sadly. "Try to get some sleep. I'll be excusing you from your classes tomorrow."

"From Potter's tutoring too?"

"Yes," he answered, though on second thought the two of them here in their quarters together could prove to be a very bad idea. Unfortunately, it was just past four in the morning and there was no way he was putting Draco through a day of classes after the night he'd just had.

* * *

As expected, Draco was not at breakfast the next morning, an observation that did not go unnoticed by Harry.

"Why isn't Draco having breakfast with us?" The Gryffindor asked.

"Because he had a rough night," Severus replied, placing Harry's second to last dose of the chemotherapy tablets by his breakfast plate, "you will let him sleep and please if you can't keep your negative thoughts to yourself, stay in your bedroom."

"I was going to apologize to him," Harry screwed his eyes defiantly for being called out on yesterday's occurrence. "What about my Potion's tutoring today?"

"It's cancelled," he didn't add any other information to the statement. "I have a meeting with Professor Dumbledore this morning and then my seventh year class. I'll be back around lunchtime."

"Fine," Harry replied, "I'll just be sitting in my room all day."

"Don't be so dramatic, Harry, there is no reason to stay sulking in your room," Severus sat down, giving the young wizard a sympathetic look he rarely gave, knowing how much the teen hated it. "All I ask is that our home be in one piece when I return."

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry hadn't appreciated Snape's sarcasm that morning, however his mind was currently clear enough to be able to understand that he deserved at least some of it. If Snape had been up most of the nights like Harry saw him last night, then it would explain why the man looked so tired almost all of the time.

The young wizard had chosen not only to not sit in his room for the day to do his schoolwork, but not to work on his essays at all. So all morning he sat across the sofa working on his Tom Riddle sketch - which was going to be the evil wizard laying in a muggle hospital bed dying from the Leukemia - in hopes of crossing paths with Draco. It was about ten o'clock in the morning, and only a little over an hour after he'd gotten settled on the sofa, when Draco finally emerged from his bedroom. His hair was still more of a mess than Harry was used to seeing him, but he was dressed in his usual neat clothes - a white Oxford shirt, completely buttoned and a pair of black trousers - making Harry feel like a second class citizen in his jeans and green jumper.

"Trying to bring out your inner Slytherin, are you now?" Draco asked, crossing the room to the kitchen.

Harry closed his sketchbook and immediately took off to follow his housemate. When he entered the kitchen, the other wizard was already seated at the table with a small bowl of yogurt with granola, an appropriate breakfast given that it was almost lunchtime. When he noticed Harry enter after him, he had a look of surprise that the Gryffindor had even bothered to move that morning.

"I was almost put in Slytherin, y'know," Harry announced with no preamble. The statement had its intended effect as Draco was literally left speechless; his mouth hanging open was an added benefit. Harry sat down at the table and a small bowl of yoghurt appeared in front of him too. "It's true. We could have been dormmates if I'd let the sorting hat place me where it wanted to."

"Come off it," the blonde exclaimed, "there is no way the Boy-Who-Lived was almost in the same house as the wizard who killed his parents. Does Severus know?"

Harry rarely thought about how different his life would have been had he let the hat have its way, but now that he knew one key piece of information he was relieved he pushed for "not Slytherin". With a piece of Voldemort's soul sitting beside his own, was it possible the hat had made the suggestion on that alone? The thought made his stomach churn; his life could have been so drastically different if he'd let the hat read from Voldemort's soul instead of his own. Had he not heard what he had about the House of Snakes before getting sorted - and met Draco full of his arrogance - he wouldn't have had an issue and likely would have ended up there. He would have had an entirely different seven years that would have been chosen for something that wasn't even him.

"Earth to Potter," Draco called out.

"Sorry," Harry replied, shaking the last lingering thoughts from his head. "I don't know if Severus knows or not. I didn't tell him."

The true Slytherin narrowed his eyes, "Then how else would he have known?"

There was something in his voice that rubbed Harry the wrong way. While he couldn't know for sure if the professor was told about his Slytherin "close call" in his old reality, he certainly couldn't tell that to Draco now. What started out as a way to throw the Malfoy heir off this morning on his journey to apologizing, backfired on him in a hard way.

"I'm sorry for what I said yesterday," Harry filled in the silence with a heartfelt apology. "My medication does not give me the right to say that kind of stuff to you. And for the record, I am well aware of who's sacrificing their lives, literally and figuratively, for me. I didn't ask anyone to do that, and I wish they wouldn't have to."

The full apology almost caught Draco more off guard than the declaration that he was almost placed in Slytherin. He stared at Harry, making the Gryffindor very uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Before either wizard could say anything though, a piece of parchment popped up in front of Draco's face. Harry furrowed his brows in confusion because he had always assumed the parchment went to who the wards viewed as the "most relevant owner"; which was Snape most of the time, but in the current occupancy it should have been him, not Draco.

"Apology accepted," the blonde called out, vanishing his plate nonverbally using his Hawthorn wand. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm needed elsewhere."

This time, it was Harry's turn to stare open mouthed watching as the other teen strutted out of the doorway closest to the entrance. He'd taken the parchment with him, so Harry couldn't even see who was there. Unable to contain his curiosity, a habit he really needed to get under control, he went to follow Draco, but stopped in his tracks when he heard him say "hello" followed by the unmistakable sound of a kiss he really wished he hadn't heard. With a look of disgust upon his face, he waited until he heard Hermione give a small laugh and then greeted the pair right outside the kitchen doorway.

"Hey, 'Mione," he gave the witch a small warily wave. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh," she turned towards Draco with her eyebrows down, "um, well Draco sent me a missive about missing his classes today and asked if I could bring his notes."

She was nervous, and Harry didn't want to get between whatever they had planned during this time. Slowly nodding his head, he turned to go back into the kitchen, then to grab his sketchpad to work on it in his bedroom. Surely between the two of them, they knew enough privacy spells for Harry not to notice anything in the sitting room, but just in case he was content to spend however long he needed to in his room; at least until lunchtime.

"Harry," Hermione called out before he was out of view, "I'll stop by your room later, if that's alright."

"Of course. Good luck with your… notes."

He didn't smirk over the idea of Hermione doing something such as "going over notes" in her boyfriend's room as he would have had it been anyone else besides Hermione and Draco. Rather, he slinked away to his own room trying not to think about what was happening on the other side of his home.

* * *

Even after being up most of the night tossing and turning, and now completely exhausted, Harry did everything he could not to fall asleep before lunchtime. This meant that when his eyes grew heavy only a half an hour into sketching he put away his notebook and pulled out the box of pictures of his mum he'd gotten from Snape for Christmas. There was something comforting about sorting through them and imagining a time when his mum wasn't worrying about an evil wizard or going into hiding herself; she was just enjoying her life with her family, her friends, and later on her husband and son. She didn't know what was coming up in only a few short years, instead thinking that she had her entire life ahead of her. Her ignorance at the time was literally bliss. The young wizard sat there on his comfortable bed thinking that he would give almost anything to be able to say one word to her or to be able to hug her. With his thoughts completely wrapped up in the pictures he was holding, Harry never heard his door open.

"Everything alright?" Snape's baritone voice brought him out of his mother's past and back to his present.

"Yeah," Harry rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment that Snape had managed to catch such a private moment.

"I was calling you for lunch," the professor said, his eyes filled with the concern that Harry had gotten used to at this point. In fact, it was those eyes that kept him grounded here; that made it so he would only _almost_ give anything to see his parents again. The longer he lived here, the more he found he wouldn't give this up to see his parents - to have them back was a completely different, much more complicated situation - he wouldn't sacrifice his long-term happiness for something so short- term.

"Let me clean up here," Harry said sadly, gesturing to the pictures surrounding him, "and I'll be right there."

Snape nodded and turned to walk away, but stopped at the last minute, "Have you seen Draco yet this morning?"

"Erm… yeah," Harry's face flushed what he could only guess was a deep red hue, "I apologized to him earlier."

Snape's eyes narrowed, already knowing that Harry was holding something back, "And where is now? I tried calling for him and received no answer. If he went to class, he should have returned by now for lunch. Perhaps I should contact the headmaster to search-"

"He's fine!" Harry quickly interrupted the professor, not wanting to start a whole search for the Slytherin knowing he'd been in his most likely heavily warded bedroom. To this, Snape raised a single eyebrow. "He's in his bedroom."

"Is he now? In that case, I'll meet you in the kitchen for lunch," Snape called out over his shoulder as he stormed out of Harry's doorway.

This would not end well and the last place Harry wanted to be was having lunch with Draco after Snape interrupted his and Hermione's "study time". It didn't take long for Harry to hear the loud commotion coming from the other side of the sitting room, specifically from Draco's bedroom. It was a combination of Snape's dark, menacing voice, combined with two he recognized as Draco's very articulate one and Hermione's overly logical one; both were stuttering through an explanation that he was sure Snape never heard.

The Gryffindor wizard carefully made his way to the kitchen, slinking along the wall to avoid being seen as he watched Hermione's bushy hair sweep across the sitting room and out the front door.

 _So much for getting to talk to her today,_ Harry complained to himself. He seriously considered sending her a note asking if she'd stop so he could talk to her before their last week of tutoring started on Monday, now though he doubted she'd want to be seen anywhere near the dungeons if Snape was home.

As usual, the kitchen table was set for three and it looked like Snape had already gotten his nutrients ready, all the supplies were sitting out by his own place setting, before he came to call them to lunch. With the voices of the two Slytherins getting louder, Harry paused, waiting to see if he was really wanted in the kitchen at this time.

"Thanks for ratting me out, Potter," Draco accused, slamming his shoulder into Harry's as the blonde passed by him to his own spot at the table; Snape followed on his heels less than a second later. Harry thought this was probably the angriest he'd seen the professor, at least since the pensieve incident that he really tried not to actively think about.

"This has nothing to do with Harry. Do you really think I couldn't tell what was going on the instant you could not hear my knocking at your door, or the fact that I could not hear anything from inside of your room?" Snape yelled, his voice becoming louder as the sentence went on. The Gryffindor sat down feeling uncomfortable. "What were you thinking? I don't care about whatever kind of rules, or lack thereof, you had back at your house, when you're living here, you'll abide by _my rules."_

It became clear about halfway through Draco's lecture about not having his girlfriend in his bedroom with the door closed, why Harry was asked to sit there during it; now if Harry ever found himself in that situation - which he never would, but Snape always thought ahead and was trying to cover every possible scenario - he knew what the house rules were. And once both teenage boys were as embarrassed as they possibly could ever be, Snape finally released them to work on their assignments. But before either of them moved, Draco cleared his voice and Harry's stomach dropped at the implication.

"So I'm guessing this means I can't have Hermione over for Valentine's Day tomorrow?" Draco asked much more confidently than Harry would have expected given the conversation - or lecture was more like it - they'd just gotten. "Seeing as I doubt I can go to Hogsmeade on Saturday, I'd hoped to have over here tomorrow."

Harry could see the former Death Eater clench his jaw so tight it hurt Harry's back teeth just watching it and he was surprised there wasn't literal steam coming from his ears as if he'd just had a Pepper Up Potion.

"You would be correct on both accounts," Snape growled, then turned on his heels and stalked out of the room. Though he wasn't wearing his teaching robes, Harry could almost see the outline of where they would have been billowing behind him.

The two teenage boys sat in silence, the only sound in the otherwise quiet space was Harry's small sip of his pumpkin juice before he said, "He didn't say anything about me having Hermione over tomorrow."

Maybe he was trying to make up for what he'd said to Draco yesterday, or hoped he'd be able to use that time to try to make sure things were alright between himself and the Gryffindor witch. Whatever the reason, it was worth the risk if that was what it took to make things right. Draco lifted his eyes toward Harry without moving his head and after about ten seconds, started laughing. It was a contagious laugh that had Harry following suit almost instantly and his previous sullen mood melted away, at least for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Transfiguration Roulette


	62. Transfiguration Roulette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a special call out to my sister (french_charlotte) because while brainstorming how to get to the next arc without too much disruption, she had the idea of Transfiguration Roulette that I loved. She originally wrote the middle portion of this chapter from Draco's POV, and I repurposed it for Harry's. It's a bit of fluff, but there are certain steps that need to happen before starting the final arc.

~~~~HP~~~~

**_Thursday 20, February 1997_ **

The last week of Harry's break from chemotherapy went by more or less uneventfully; which given the previous week was perfectly fine by the Gryffindor. Hermione did end up coming over on Valentine's Day under the pretense of visiting Harry - spending a good hour and half with her friend - before spending the rest of the night with Draco; his door clearly opened and both teenagers in view playing chess most of the night. Hermione did go to Hogsmeade on Saturday without either wizard, but she brought back a wide variety of Honeydukes for them all which _almost_ made up for it. Harry had been craving the sugar in the chocolate, giving him a spurt of energy that lasted the rest of the evening.

On Thursday, Dr Swanson came over to go through all the details of what _hard quarantine_ consisted of with him, Draco, Snape, and Madam Pomfrey. Due to his history with pneumonia - where he had been unconscious for two weeks - and the fact that his blood counts from that morning's test hadn't rebounded to where she'd hoped they would be so close to the start of it, she explained that she was being extra cautious because the last thing any of them wanted was for him to have a set back this close to Maintenance. Harry really wanted to ask if missing one or two weeks of chemotherapy would cause an issue this far in, however in the end, he wasn't sure he was prepared for the answer to be "yes". He could see Draco - who had a much sunnier disposition during this meeting than he'd expected - itching to ask the same question. Unfortunately, the Slytherin did not care about the result of that question as much as Harry did.

"So what if he had to miss one of these-" he looked at the schedule the muggle doctor had passed out, "- coming up because of his low blood counts?"

Dr Swanson was delighted with the question, or the fact that someone was interested in his well-being, causing Harry to scowl at the blonde Slytherin who completely missed the gesture and its intended effect.

"Well, if he missed one of these coming up, we'd move it back until his blood counts rebounded enough," she explained primarily to Draco. "Unfortunately, it is common to see and you shouldn't be alarmed if that's the case this time. We usually retest after four days and if that looks good we'll start chemo again.

"Now, if he gets an infection and is down for several weeks, then he runs the risk of the Leukemia cells returning. If that happens, depending on the severity, we'll restart somewhere in the process over again."

It was an extremely depressing thought. Even though in his mind he knew his journey was far from over, something about Maintenance sounded like it was "a precautionary measure", not "still required to keep the cancer away". He'd technically been in remission after his induction chemo, having no detectable Leukemia cells, but that didn't really mean anything. How would they know after Maintenance that it was really gone? The answer was that they simply wouldn't know; all of his tests at that point would be almost identical to the one he took today.

"Harry?" Snape's voice broke through his anxious thoughts, "Are you alright?"

"Erm… yeah," he said, feeling his face flush a bit, "sorry about that."

"Any other questions about the schedule before we go into the quarantine best practices?" Dr Swanson asked the group before her.

He had already known he wouldn't be having tutoring anymore because even with Snape's new sanitizing charm, the Professors and students were around too many other people to risk the exposure. So what did that mean for Snape and Draco? Snape was allowed to leave for his normal N.E.W.T classes and he'd cast the sanitizing charm on himself whenever he returned into their quarters to make sure he wasn't bringing anything into their home. Draco was a little more difficult because his schedule did not align with Snape's, meaning he'd be coming back without the professor here to use the new charm on him. Harry thought Draco could probably learn the charm easily enough, but Snape refused to depend on that. The young wizard got the feeling he was still carrying around the guilt about the pneumonia and this was a knee-jerk reaction to it. At the end of all the back-and-forth between Madam Pomfrey, Dr Swanson, and Snape, it was decided that Harry would be limited to his bedroom and lavatory unless Snape was already home to sanitize Draco as well as the sitting room and kitchen areas. That process was in addition to the already mandatory hand washing before anyone entered the Gryffindor's room or touched anything relating to his treatment - IV, feeding tube, port, for example - as well as when preparing food and for Harry before eating.

The only other pieces to discuss were his feeding tube, pain medications, and their schedule overall. The feeding tube would be getting replaced Saturday morning before the IT, and Dr Swanson added another feeding during the day before chemotherapy. Since each IV day would be either five hours - for the first day - or four hours for the next three days, she thought it best to start him off with it early, then do another one between a typical "lunch" and "dinner" time, and then continue the overnight assuming he wasn't too sick. As overwhelming as it felt to have all of this laid out in front of him, he was grateful for the attention to detail _before_ he started feeling like death. Healer Smithe was so much more reactive than proactive, that for the first time since meeting his muggle doctor he appreciated having her on his side.

The last topic Harry needed to be present and focused for was the plan in place for his pain medications. Overall, the stronger chemotherapy medications had taken a toll on his body during Phase Three and he found himself in almost constant pain throughout. It hurt to move, it hurt to walk, it even hurt to breathe, but most of the time a new dose of his pain medication cleared it up for at least a couple of hours before the breakthrough pain - the pain that returned between doses - started. But the Gryffindor knew that none of that compared to the pain he would start to feel from his magical core dying. Even though he was actively working to protect the bigger portion of his core by sparingly using his magic, it was still depleting the top part - at an even faster rate because of its use - and therefore he would not be able to circumvent the magical core pain. To combat this, Dr Swanson would have Harry on a continuous rotation of medications using a combination of IV during the worst of times and tablets the rest of the time. She assured Harry that they would make him as comfortable as possible during these two weeks and then slowly decease his dependency on them as they headed towards Maintenance. If anyone asked him, he wouldn't be able to tell them what the medications were, but Snape reassured him that he had it all under control.

The final part to discuss was the rotation of his care. With eight of the eleven days filled with IV chemotherapy, plus the feeding tube, and the IV supportive meds - for the pain and his nausea - Madam Pomfrey offered to come by regularly to help. At that point, Harry had more or less zoned out, unable to continue listening to the rest of the occupants discuss him as if he weren't there. He was pretty sure he wouldn't care who was coming in to help out so long as it wasn't a Death Eater or Voldemort himself. He was too overwhelmed with it all and his brain just couldn't hold a single extra piece of information in it.

* * *

As it always seemed to do, the Friday before the young wizard's next round of chemotherapy came far too quickly. Friday afternoon he had Herbology tutoring with Neville, where he handed in all of his pending work - he tried to work ahead a bit so he didn't have too much during the next two weeks, but it was hard to stay focused all week - and then after dinner he had Transfiguration with McGonagall. Tonight it was his guardian who had the hard time focusing, instead spending most of the time just talking to Harry about how he was handling everything going on around him. It was an odd conversation, but at the same time it was almost exactly what he needed to keep his mind clear and to keep the worrying thoughts of what to expect out of his head. The elderly witch cut his lesson short, an event in itself that was shocking as McGonagall could give Snape a run for his galleons as she was just as strict in her classroom as he was, only without the constant acerbic reactions.

Every night during the week, Snape spent the time during Harry's class lessons out of their quarters, most likely in his classroom office though obviously the Gryffindor wasn't sure. On Friday's though, he knew the professor met with McGonagall after Harry's class and sometimes didn't return until after Harry went to bed. He assumed that was Snape's time to unwind, which Harry was a bit jealous over. Tonight though, that left the young wizard with his idle mind trying anything he could to avoid thinking about what was in store for him starting tomorrow.

He was laying across the sofa, his knees bent with this sketching pad propped up against them, still working on his Tom Riddle picture - having recently started over because it was harder than he expected to make the evil wizard look so sickly and Voldemort didn't deserve to appear well - wishing he had anything to think about besides cancer and chemotherapy tomorrow, or his classwork that seemed far too daunting at the moment, or his friends who couldn't visit him for at least another three weeks. Every so often he had heard a loud rustling coming from Draco's room, and he wanted to go check it out, but thought better of it. The last thing he wanted before starting his rough treatments was to cause any animosity in their quarters with either him and Draco or Draco and Snape. So the last few days, he'd been doing whatever he could to be less confrontational. Once chemo started tomorrow, he would pretty much be at the Slytherins' mercy, so it was a small sacrifice to make for peace later on.

The Gryffindor was just about to go to bed when Draco came sprinting out of his room; so fast and highly un-Malfoy-like, that the heavy door opening hit the stone wall with a _boom_ causing Harry to drop - or more accurately throw - his pencil down. The blonde stared at him, his eyes narrowed as if he were contemplating if what he was about to ask Harry was a good idea or not. A million thoughts raced through Harry's head as he tried to guess what the other wizard wanted from him. The only logical request he could come up with had to do with Hermione, but they both knew she had prefect duties tonight otherwise he would have already invited her over. Harry couldn't have been anymore surprised about what he asked, when Draco finally did speak to him.

"Come into my room. I need you," the Slytherin demanded, half-hanging out of his bedroom with one hand grasped around the edge of the doorway. "Whatever you're doing, it's not as important as this."

The emerald eyes narrowed onto the grey ones and responded with extreme caution. "What are you up to?"

Draco hesitated before answering with what he must have assumed was a reasonable answer in his mind, "Redecorating."

He was sure, without a doubt, that the Malfoy heir had completely lost his mind. Now that he thought about it, that explained the loud noises he heard from the newest addition to their home, but what was honestly wrong with his bedroom to need to redecorate it? And what did he honestly expect Harry to do to help? Move furniture? This had to be some kind of sick joke to showcase just how much of his body Harry had lost, and he did not appreciate it whatsoever; especially from someone who wanted to be a Healer. He couldn't just go around making requests like that!

The Gryffindor pressed his lips together in a look of deliberation and doubt, but he didn't budge from his spot; an observation he was sure made Draco all the more annoyed that his demand hadn't yielded immediate results. Deciding not to cause a row in the last few hours of his freedom, he chose to take the humble way out.

"Look at me," Harry began and gestured down at his frail body, to showcase his green pyjamas hanging off his skeletal frame. "I'm not exactly a good person to pick to move furniture. Besides…" he looked back down at his sketch pad dismissively, and the Slytherin didn't miss the bitterness in the other teen's tone. "You have your wand. Use it."

He was sure that Draco would bask in the humility that he'd just shown and turn to leave him in peace, but instead he found his sketchbook being torn from his hands and heading straight into the long, pale fingers waiting for it in the doorway to Draco's room. An immediate look of anger blotched across Harry's face as he was on his feet in seconds, the emotion filling in his sunken features.

"You can get this back after you help me," Draco called out, while he waved the sketchpad a little in the air and took a few steps backwards into his bedroom.

Harry knew he shouldn't continue to play into the exact game that the other wizard was expecting, but his mind flashed to the drawings that were in the notebook - one's of him and Snape as a father and son, his friends, and there was even one of Draco and Hermione - that he did not want the other teen to see. He should have turned around and called Draco's bluff; should have just walked back to his room and left him to redecorate his own damn room himself.

Instead, with his jaw tense and shoulders taut, Harry stomped after him. "Extortion? How very Slytherin of you."

"I call it opportunistic." Draco shrugged a little as he tossed the sketchpad to his bed and stood between it and the enchanted window, arms casually crossed over his front. "And where's that Gryffindor trait that compels you to help out orphaned kittens and charity cases? You don't even have to do anything, honestly. I just need you to stand there and observe while I do the work." He flashed a smile that Harry really wanted to hex off his smug face. "Just like class."

Proud of himself for sticking to his internal promise not to rock the broom before his potential need to depend on the other teen in the upcoming weeks, he simply walked to the bed and picked up his book, pressing it possessively against his chest to protect it from being yanked away again and rolled his eyes a little. They stood there, facing one another, and Harry couldn't stop the stray thought from seeping into his mind.

_I was looking for a distraction and this is as good as any._

"How exactly are you decorating?" The Gryffindor found himself asking against his better judgement. If anything went wrong, it would be on Draco's head this time.

"Transfiguration, obviously," the Malfoy heir stated and turned his wand towards the wardrobe flush against the wall. He pushed on the piece of furniture to demonstrate that it was in need of repair - or "redecorating" - with the uneven feet causing it to wobble back and forth. To Harry, it was an easy fix that would take nothing more than a piece of parchment under the shortest foot, but he was curious what else the Slytherin had in mind for it.

Harry watched the other wizard stare down the length of his hawthorn wand at the dresser. He was sure that Draco's heart had to be beating as furiously as his own waiting to see if it would actually work. Harry's Transfiguration skills weren't the greatest, but he knew that by now a sixth year at Draco's level should be able to do it; that didn't necessarily mean nothing would go wrong and the wardrobe would explode instead of transform. Focused in his own mind - and preparing to flee should he need to - he barely heard the spell muttered from Draco's lips.

Both boys were surprised when an expensive, tall wardrobe now stood in the place where Snape's used to be. The wood was sanded to perfection, giving the forest of dark colored knots an intense gloss from its natural oils and the carvings on the front were geometric and eye-catching. Harry was thoroughly impressed with the level of detail Draco managed to create as the wardrobe looked brand new, but he'd read enough theory lately to know that _something_ of the original had to remain, yet he couldn't tell what that something was from the immaculate piece in front of him.

"Impressed? I can do your room next if you ask nicely," Draco asked, having picked up on Harry's astonished face.

The Gryffindor easily ignored the arrogant words with a shake of his head and approached the wardrobe. Grabbing onto the edge of it, he gave it a little shake and chuckled at the dramatic wobble the furniture gave, teetering listlessly from its uneven legs. There was the part that remained the same. "It's almost perfect. I guess you can put some parchment under it."

A frown immediately crossed Draco's face, "Still looks better than it used to," he defended his work. "Now move out of the way. I'm going to try the bed."

The blonde repeated the same routine as before, causing Harry the need to suppress his laughter at the focused - almost constipated - look on the pointed, pale face in front of him. Suddenly, the pale wood of the four-poster transformed into exotic woods with a matte finish, appearing like satin but durable and strong. Brocade fabric, green and silver and heavy, hung decoratively as drapes from the bed in dramatic swags. The once meek mattress enlarged considerably with plush stuffing and interior insulation. But the linens… this time, Harry actually did laugh at the unchanged cotton green comforter that remained from the previous bed and the two small pillows from before were still there, but were now joined with several more to compensate. If it had been him doing this "redecorating" he would have left the wooden frame alone and instead focused on the parts that actually touched his body.

"I can always get a house elf to swap that out with linens from the dormitories," Draco mumbled, more than a touch embarrassed.

They fell into a comfortable routine after that. Harry had not only loosened his grip on his sketchpad, but had become genuinely interested in this entire process, dropping the sketchpad to the bed and offering feedback and advice to the blonde and Harry was surprised that Draco typically took his advice. The plain writing desk in the corner had turned into a grand desk of yew wood to match the wardrobe with numerous drawers, but the Slytherin's concentration had must have wavered; the molding wasn't nearly as impressive as the other furniture, and the lack of symmetry made both boys snicker.

Minutes quickly progressed into an hour, but neither seemed to notice the change of time. The living quarters rumbled with the sounds of spells and laughter and jesting challenges tossed back and forth. Harry made fun of the Slytherin's penchant for extravagance and superfluous décor, and Draco jabbed back that the Gryffindor ought to begin taking notes if he wanted to develop a cultured palate. By the time the room was finished, it bore little resemblance for what it once was, save for the small attributes on each transfigured item, and instead reeked of the neoclassical and gothic revival aesthetic that apparently was more to the Malfoy heir's liking.

By the end of their time "redecorating", Draco had even decided to reactivate the enchanted window again. He waved his hand to go through the different views - something Harry hadn't even known was possible and would definitely try before his time with his magic was over - settling on a view of the lake's inky surface instead of the world beneath it. Harry looked on with wonder because it was almost the exact same view he had in his room, however the other teen would not likely know as he hadn't spent much time in the Gryffindor's side of their quarters.

With a giddiness that Harry would associate more with Lavender Brown than Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin turned to Harry with an eager smile and asked, "You want to play a game?"

The Gryffindor's brows shot up at the blonde's uncharacteristic mischievousness. Something in Draco's voice told Harry he wasn't thinking about chess or Exploding Snaps. "What kind of game?"

The wizard across from him was practically bouncing on his heels, "Transfiguration Roulette."

_That definitely sounds a bad idea._

"Transfiguration Roulette?" Harry furrowed his brows extremely curious, simultaneously trying to decipher the name into something that wasn't as destructive as his brain pictured. "What's that?"

The blonde gave him an incredulous look. "Good lord, what do you Gryffindors do for fun? Fight over whose virtues are better?" He shook his head and walked to his trunk, throwing it open and began to rifle through the contents, namely what appeared to be a small library of books that would impress even Hermione. They really were a perfect match for one another. "It's a game that we'd play in our common room after hours. An older year – works better if they're good with Transfiguration but more humorous if they're not – gets blindfolded and spun around. Another randomly picks a spell from this—" He lifted a thick tome from the trunk, the spine titled with thick cursive print, _Glossary of Transfiguration Spells_ , "—and the first student blindly casts it. The student keeps going until he fails the spell and then another student is picked. Whoever casts the most successfully wins." He snickered a little and nodded his head in a gesture for Harry to follow him out of his bedroom. "And usually the common room is a right wreck by the end of the night."

He _had_ been right, this was a bad idea. Harry followed him, though reluctance was written all over his face. "I dunno if we should do that here. With Severus's stuff…."

"We'll turn it all back to normal before he gets back from his date with McGonagall," Draco encouraged, shoving the book into Harry's thin chest, and gave him a challenging look. "Come on. Allow yourself to have a little harmless fun, won't you?"

Though his fingers wrapped around the book, Harry blinked rapidly as he looked to the side, irritated as he said, "I can't use magic, remember? I can't… I can't cast something as complicated as this without a professor present."

"So don't," Draco shrugged indifferently and grabbed a dish towel from the kitchen. "I'll do the casting, you get to man the book."

The Slytherin stood confidently near the kitchen doorway and the sitting area, likely so he had a view of both locations because as far as Harry's understanding of this, he'd basically be transfiguring objects at random.

"I'm going to spin around while you start flipping through the pages," the blonde continued after he'd tied the dish towel around his eyes, "When I stop, you stop, and then open to whatever page you're on and pick a spell at random."

Still unsure if this was a good idea, but satisfied by the fact that this had successfully taken his mind off of what would be happening tomorrow, he carefully walked over to the sofa and plopped himself unceremoniously on it. The book in his hands containing the spells he'd be feeding to Draco was heavy and ancient feeling, like so many of the books he'd seen in the old pureblood families - the Occlumency book Snape had lent him, or ones he'd seen in the Black library, and he was sure the Malfoy library was full of them too - and its pages were fragile parchment with text so old he almost couldn't read it. The aged parchment crinkled as he ran his finger across the edges of the pages, a sign that he was jumping, for better or worse, all in on this game. Snape was a Slytherin after all, there was a miniscule chance the professor would enjoy reminiscing about his own common room days if he happened to find out about this transgression. It was unlikely, nonetheless it was the justification he made to himself.

The blonde wizard finally stopped spinning, his body and wand extended out towards the kitchen and Harry held his breath waiting; completely forgetting that he was supposed to provide the spell.

"While we're still young, Harry."

"Um… _Scribblifors,"_ Harry sheepishly called out from the page he just opened.

The Slytherin shrugged a little, "Really? Easy first one."

It was a simple spell taught early on, its effectiveness ranged depending on the target, typically favoring items that shared its likeness in shape and size. Having no idea where Draco's wand was pointing into the kitchen, he could only hope it wasn't at the kitchen table or chairs. The blindfolded wizard seemed to have less reservations about what would happen, because he didn't hesitate to say the spell - confidently for the best possible outcome.

After hearing the spell hit whatever its intended target was, Harry walked slowly up to the kitchen doorway to survey the damage. A tea cup left out on the table had been the unfortunate victim. And while it was small enough to earn the spell's favor, the leftover puddle of cold tea from earlier wasn't transfigured with it. A quill sat where the cup once was, but the feather was soaked in brownish ick, with pieces of loose tea leaves clung to the tip.

"I… consider that a success," Draco claimed with his chest puffed out. "Messy, but a success."

"Put the blindfold back on. Let's go again," Harry laughed in response, and already had the book closed again, his finger eagerly running up and down the parchment.

Without another word, Draco obeyed, resuming his spinning slowly until he finally stopped, facing the direction of the sitting area, with his wand pointed at the clock on the mantle. This time, Harry didn't need any coaxing; he was ready and keen when the time came.

" _Lapifors_."

That one made the Slytherin pause before he gave a short laugh. "You're kidding, right? A rabbit? Fine then."

This spell made Harry nervous; so nervous that he almost told his partner in crime to stop. Changing a tea cup to a quill was easy; they were both about the same size and inanimate objects. Live transfigurations - even from inanimate objects - could be tricky ordeals and even the smallest wayward thought could have disastrous effects on the intended spell.

The moment the spell left Draco's wand, Harry wanted it to turn back. If he could just find Hermione's old time turner, maybe he could have prevented it. They couldn't take it back though and Harry's eyes grew wide when a small rabbit hopped off the mantle where a clock used to be. Both boys immediately jumped when they spotted the rabbit's back; where a field of thick fur should've been was instead the face of the clock, looking like it was perfectly flush with the creature's body. The rabbit's nose wiggled in time with the clock's ticking in the most disquieting of ways, both functioning in harmonic tandem.

Uncertain what to do with it, Draco controlled the creature to stay by the fireplace, to which Harry was grateful. "Well, that's bloody disturbing."

Harry grimaced as the clock chimed on the hour, making the rabbit's ears pivot back and forth. "You got an O on your Transfiguration OWL? Did you cheat?"

"Evidently, I wasn't asked to turn a clock into a rabbit," the blonde cast a mirthful glare at his counterpart, but a laugh filled his voice.

They both fell into pleasant snickers that erupted into rowdy laughter and shouts when the rabbit innocently hopped towards the two of them, the blonde having dropped his control over the amalgamation. While Harry - who went back to the sofa for safety - quickly pulled his knees up to his chest, Draco jumped backwards a bit while he wrestled back his control of the creature, exiling it back near the fireplace to await its eventual untransfiguration; explaining that part of the game was collecting the transfigured items and enjoying the beautiful chaos that would result. Thus, the rabbit-clock hybrid became an added gem to their game.

Shoving the blindfold back on, Draco waited until Harry closed the book again before resuming his spinning. The joy of the game was already a fantastic distraction, both of them wrapped up in the simple fun that it provided. And the spells and laughter were soon coming faster and faster.

" _Orchideous_."

The coffee pot became a potted sunflower.

" _Tentaclifors_."

Three Advanced Potions books combined into a thick, wet tentacle that stretched across the mantle, knocking over trinkets. They both screamed when it oscillated and moved as if attached to a monster of the deep.

" _Latrinarors_."

Somehow, between his laughing and shaking of his head, Draco managed the spell. A half dozen rolls of toilet paper stood vigil where a small collection of energized crystal eggs once rested on Snape's desk, each still the sparkling color of the gemstone it was transfigured from.

" _Dinosaurum Saginatieous_."

The chair neatly pushed into Snape's desk became a large stuffed dinosaur, purple with green spots, but maintained a small seated indent on its back. They both were laughing too hard to care about the rabbit hopping around the sitting room, and too distracted to notice the time shown on its back and how late in the night it had become.

" _Melofors."_

That one was their undoing. Somehow, neither noticed that Draco had moved from the kitchen doorway near the corridor leading to Harry's bedroom towards his own bedroom and had his wand pointed right at the entrance to their quarters. The coat rack beside the entrance door was large – too large for the spell given the Slytherin's paltry hold on his concentration. And though the coat rack transfigured into an appropriately proportioned pumpkin as it was intended, the changing of size didn't translate well. It kept growing and growing from the inside only, its sides swelling and making a beaded sweat drip down the grooves. And seconds before it exploded, the entrance door opened and an unsuspecting, once clean Snape strode into his quarters.

The world seemed to stop, and silence prevailed in the aftermath of the explosion. Orange, gooey guts with small seeds were splattered all over the previously grey stone walls, ceiling, and floor in a fantastical artwork of autumn pandemonium. Harry stood up suddenly from the sofa, and watched Draco stand completely frozen in front of the pumpkin covered professor, with his arm and wand still extended. In an effort to hide some of the evidence, Harry quietly closed the book and nudged it onto the table in front of him.

After several painfully silent seconds, during which a glob of pulp fell from the older wizard's face and splattered onto the front of his soiled robes, Snape took a deep breath. "For your sake, Draco, you had best have a good explanation. And I am rather curious to hear it."

Though Draco opened his mouth to say something, no words came out. In that time, Harry went through the non-existent alternative explanations for why the professor walked in and got plunged, almost literally, in pumpkin guts. But before either teen could say anything - adding insult to injury -the rabbit happily hopped past him, straight across the Potion Master's line of vision, and into the blonde's bedroom, all the while ticking away.

Snape maintained a deadpanned expression as he took in the various transfigured items around the room, his stare lingered on the cheerful potted sunflower that stood where his beloved coffee pot used to.

"I was… showing Harry how to play Transfiguration Roulette, sir," Draco wet his lips and lowered his wand when his wits returned to him. "It's a game where-"

"-I am well aware of what Transfiguration Roulette is, Draco. Trying as this is to believe, I used to be a Slytherin student as well. That game predates me, even." The surprising lighthearted response – and sincere lack of a lecture or killing curse – from the older wizard came as a surprise to both teens, who again remained staring in a wonderful mixture of aghast, panic, and confusion. Seeing the shared emotions on both boys' faces, Snape shook his head slowly and made a beeline for his rooms. "I expect everything to be pristine and returned to its normal state by the time I return from cleaning up. Understood?"

There was a collective, quiet: "Yes, sir."

But the moment Snape's door shut, that quiet was abandoned as both teens broke down into fits of laughter. Unknown to both, the pumpkin-covered professor was leaning against the back of his door, listening with a smile.

_~~~~AU SS~~~~_

_He'd had the adoption papers drawn up weeks ago, yet it never seemed like the right time to ask the boy who was now under his care to become his son. This would be a big step for the both of them, and one he never expected to take given how rocky their relationship started - from his own doing - at the beginning of last year. He'd already asked Albus and Minerva, and they both graciously agreed to be their witnesses, and their case worker from the Ministry of Magic Department of Children's Services had been owling him weekly about setting up the necessary interviews and inspections. Everything was in order and ready to go on his command, but he couldn't do any of that until he asked Harry... And he couldn't ask Harry until he explained the truth about why the young boy's parents had been killed, and his role in it, thus leaving him in a position to be adopted in the first place. Severus had never really had a conscience, nevertheless even his small one wouldn't let him ignore something as big as this. It would be difficult enough to adopt the Boy-Who-Lived as a former Death Eater and he could do without any surprises along the way._

_As a simple man, he didn't have any elaborate plans in place to ask Harry, but he knew he wanted to do it during the Christmas holiday; this way neither would be distracted by end of term work and exams. Harry was finishing up his first term of second year, and it had been a particularly difficult one with almost the entire school convinced he was the Heir of Slytherin, especially after the Parselmouth incident, so he didn't want to add to the stress the young wizard was under. And explaining that he'd basically been the reason his parents were killed would do just that._

_"Are we going home for Christmas?" Harry asked at dinner the night after the other students left the castle for holiday._

_Unsure if Harry would want to go back to Spinner's End, Severus had remained non-committal about their plans. For now, Harry was staying in their quarters until Severus could finish closing up the classroom for the holiday, anyway, giving them at least two days to figure out their own plans._

_"That depends," Severus responded, refilling Harry's glass of pumpkin juice from across their small kitchen table, "do you want to spend it at Spinner's End? Your friends are staying here, correct?"_

_There was another reason Severus wasn't committing to Spinner's End just yet and why he chose to have this conversation today, while they were still at Hogwarts. Harry very well could need to stay away from him tonight and the last thing he wanted was to make the young wizard feel trapped._

_"Yeah, but they know I might not stay this year. It's our first Christmas after all."_

_The professor could tell Harry was nervous and if he wanted to be honest, he was as well. He'd never really celebrated Christmas with anyone let alone a child. His parents never put much effort into the season; his best Christmas wasn't even spent with his own family, instead it was when he went skiing with the Evan's in his fourth year. Then as an adult, he was always alone, unless Albus grudgingly pulled him to some school function or another. Now though, he was the adult and it was supposed to be his responsibility to do for the child in his care what neither of them have ever had. It took him far out of his comfort zone, and yet he found himself deep down wanting to do something for Harry this Christmas._

_"I'll leave it up to you, but, Harry, there is something I'd like to discuss first," the Potions Master took a deep breath; it was now or never._

_"Is everything ok, Severus?" Harry asked timidly._

_"I hope so," he looked up into those emerald green eyes; the exact replica of Lily's eyes. This was going to be difficult and he deserved no less; this should not be easy for him._

_Severus gestured for them to go into the sitting room, where Harry took his normal place on the worn sofa and Severus in his armchair. Resisting the urge to pour himself a glass of firewhiskey - reminding himself again, this wasn't supposed to be easy - he propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward towards the young wizard. Harry looked so young and pure, his face still rounded before he grew into his features, his eyes full of innocence and trust; a trust that Severus was about to shatter. For a second he considered dropping the entire adoption idea, just to save Harry from the emotional pain this would do to him. His guardianship was supposed to be temporary, never did he expect to fall in love with the child or to_ _want_ _to adopt him._

_Though Severus had already told the raven-haired boy about him and Lily meeting and coming to Hogwarts, he started with that part of the story again; because really this was about Lily and James. He tried to stay as neutral and age-appropriate as possible when talking about his interactions with James Potter; it was the least he could do with the information he was still withholding. Harry should have a good picture in his mind of his parents. And so he told Harry that while James had been a bit of a bully - Severus needed some occlumency to get through that part of the conversation - but that he'd heard eventually the other wizard outgrew that and became a good young man when he'd married Lily. He then told the Gryffindor at a very high-level that he did something stupid one year that drove him and Lily apart and while he never spoke with her after that, he'd never stopped caring for her as his friend._

_He paused there. None of that part of the story was new and Harry's confusion spotlighted that fact._

_"I know all of that," Harry predictably said, "about my parents."_

_"I know," Severus took what should have been a deep cleansing breath, but only managed to make him feel more nervous, more suffocated. "Have you heard the term 'Death Eater' before?"_

_He chose to start there because in all of his planning of this, he realized that Harry probably had no idea what they were. As expected, Harry shook his head and furrowed his eyes because it didn't take Merlin to be able to connect the dots on what role they played._

_"They were followers of Voldemort-" he chose to use the name because oddly enough it would make Harry feel more comfortable as that was the name he was used to using for the dark wizard. "There was a time in my life when I aspired to be one. And after Hogwarts, I was recruited and joined."_

_Harry's breathing almost stopped as he digested the information he had been told. Severus knew he couldn't hide any of the truth because it would be unburied during the adoption process and he needed Harry to hear it from him instead of people at the ministry._

_"Why?" Harry asked._

_It was a simple question - one word - that held so much weight. But if the Gryffindor was willing to ask, then maybe he could at least consider forgiveness when he knew the whole truth._

_"I grew-up in a household not too dissimilar to yours at the Dursley's, " he started. "My mother was a witch and my father a muggle who tolerated her at best even before he knew about her magic. When I came along and was 'just like her' it only made the situation worse. At the best of times, my father and I were not on speaking terms and at the worst of times… we'll just leave it at that._

_"My mother's family was deep into the Dark Arts and I found that burying myself into a book on that topic eased some of my despair growing up. Between that and the fact that my father hated the wizarding world, when the opportunity to explore the Dark Arts while fighting for equality amongst muggles, against the people like my father, I took it. I craved the validation they gave me, the idea that muggles were to blame and they deserved to be the ones in hiding instead of people like us. Somehow I felt that had my mother not been forced to give away the wizarding world for her abusive husband's world, she might have been happier with her life, and mine."_

_He paused again to let this information sink in for both himself and Harry. The Gryffindor was toeing his trainers as he mirrored Severus's own position, leaning over with his arms resting on his knees._

_Even though it made Severus vulnerable, he unbuttoned his left shirt sleeve and rolled it up to show Harry his dark mark, which he was positive the young wizard had caught a glimpse of before._

_"This is the Dark Mark and was bored by a selection of Death Eaters within Voldemort's ranks who were considered his most loyal and his most trusted, that were considered his 'inner circle'. When one of the Death Eaters joined this rank, he or she was marked with his symbol. It was used by Voldemort to summon this inner circle and when he needed them, he simply called them using this mark. It would burn and when pressed, would immediately bring the Death Eater to his side._

_"I was in his inner circle, as you can see, however I eventually regretted it deeply and by the end, I became a spy for Professor Dumbledore. Until the day Voldemort disappeared, I pledged myself against him."_

_It was at this point that Harry started to ask a lot of questions about his decision to join the meglomanic that was still actively trying to kill him. Severus didn't try to patronize the boy, but instead validated his fear, making sure to explain that the Headmaster would not have hired him to be around children if he had been dangerous. Harry immediately brought up Quirrell, so that ended up being a bad reason, and they had a laugh over it together easing some of the tension in the air. In the end, he'd managed to explain to Harry that Albus trusted him completely._

_"What caused you to change your mind?" Harry asked the question Severus had been leading him to, after he walked back into the sitting room with a tray of tea and biscuits levitating in front of him. Harry had taken a break to change into his pyjamas; a bright red flannel set._

_Severus thought hard on how to word the event that had been, even now, his deepest regret. "Well, Voldemort threatened someone very important to me."_

_Harry furrowed his brows, "Who? If you were one of his inner circle, shouldn't that person have been safe?"_

_"No one was safe from Voldemort, Harry. You know that." He didn't say it as a way to scare the twelve year old, he was being honest with the boy._

_Harry's face fell, "It was my mother, wasn't it?"_

_"Yes, Harry," he nodded and ran his open palm down his face, "Lily, and more specifically you, were targeted by Voldemort and I knew it was only a matter of time before he went after her. So I went to Professor Dumbledore to ask that he keep her safe, and in return I pledged my service to his side."_

_There was a pregnant pause over the two occupants in the small sitting room._

_"I asked Professor Dumbledore at the end of last year why Voldemort wanted to kill me as a baby," Harry quietly said, his head hung low. They had finally arrived at the reason for this entire night. "Do you know why?"_

_Unable to find his voice to answer the question, Severus nodded. Then, ignoring the churning of his stomach, he started to speak before he could talk himself out of it, "There was a prophecy made about a boy born at the end of July, the year you were born. It said this boy would eventually defeat the Dark Lord and that he would be born to parents who've defied him three times… it was no secret that your parents fought valiantly against him."_

_"So," Harry said sniffling and swiping away the tears that had come to his eyes, "this prophecy is the reason he wanted to kill me? Then I was the reason for my parents' death."_

_Severus's heart broke over that statement - it was not asked as a question. That was the last place he wanted Harry to put the blame. This child was not responsible for his own parents' death._

_"Not at all, Harry," he said quickly and confidently. "I was the Death Eater that brought the prophecy to Voldemort. I overheard it when it was originally made."_

_The air between them stood completely still, as if their entire home went into a sudden vacuum. The small clock on the mantle, the one that was normally too quiet to ever be heard, was blaring in his ear as the seconds ticked on, waiting for Harry to react._

_"No," Harry immediately denied, to which Severus was quite surprised. Last year, it didn't take much for the trio of Gryffindors to decide he was evil enough to attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone, yet now he was trying to deny the truth Severus had just explained, "it couldn't be…"_

_"I promise you, Harry," he went to place his hand in the young wizard's small knee, but pulled it back at the last moment, "if I could do it over, I wouldn't have said anything to him about it."_

_"But you knew he'd kill_ **_someone_ ** _," again, it was a statement, not a question, "at the time, you **knew** he wouldn't just let someone go that could defeat him. So you told him about it _ _knowing_ _he would kill a child… me, and my parents."_

_The look of disgust that crossed Harry's face tore Severus apart inside. He caused that face, he caused that pain, the moment he told the Dark Lord what he'd overheard in the Hogshead all those years ago. It was by far his biggest regret in his life and something he did not deserve forgiveness over, especially from the child sitting across from him. He wanted to apologize, but that would only throw salt in the Gryffindor's wound._

_So instead he watched Harry closely. He watched the young wizard's bright emerald eyes pass through a wide range of emotions; anger was the most prevalent and where he ended up when he eventually met Severus's own obsidian eyes filled with sorrow, grief, and regret._

_"Harry," he broke the awkward silence, again he physically reached out his hand towards the Gryffindor._

_"I need..." Harry looked around with his wild eyes unable to lock onto anything in the sitting room. "I need to leave. I can't be here… in this room… with… with… you."_

_Lily's death was the first time Severus cried, but somehow this felt worse. He wasn't ashamed when he felt the hot tears escape his eyes and trail down his cheeks. He simply nodded his head, and then dropped it into his hands, which were propped up somehow - he'd never know how he didn't fall straight to the floor - on his knees when he heard the large door slam closed behind Harry._

_It would take another two days before Severus got the chance to talk to Harry again. It was now the 22nd of December and the day Severus had hoped to go back to Spinner's End before Harry had literally run away from him. The professor had spoken to Minerva, and as far as she knew, Harry seemed down, but alright. The day after Harry had left, Severus walked Minerva through the same conversation - without the flowery reasons for him joining the Death Eaters - so she would have some context for Harry's suddenly sullen mood. She lectured him - as he'd expected - but ultimately reassured him that he'd done the right thing by telling Harry and she could see it in the young wizard's eyes that he would come around._

_Those days spent waiting were some of the most excruciating of Severus's life. Given that he wasn't going back to Cokesworth that day, he decided to spend it working in his classroom laboratory fulfilling Poppy's latest requests for potions replenishment; mainly Pepper Ups that were low from the annual colds that spread like wildfire through the castle sometime between the first snowfall and the fortnight before term ended, and Calming Drafts. He'd been brewing for two hours when he heard the door to his laboratory open so tentatively, he knew it could only be Harry._

_"I want to stay mad at you," Harry honestly said, approaching his laboratory bench. He pulled out a stool to sit besides where Severus stood and started grinding up the lavender for the Calming Draft he was brewing. "You pretty much sent the darkest wizard of our time to kill me."_

_"You have every right to stay angry with me," Severus placed the glass stirring rod down next to the cauldron. "And I wouldn't hold it against you if you request someone else to live with."_

_To that, Harry didn't say anything at first. Severus listened to the grinding of the ingredients go from hard and angry to steady and soft._

_"But what if I don't_ _want_ _to live with someone else?" Harry asked, staring at the professor with his innocent face. They were at an impasse and neither knew how to navigate this uncharted territory. "Why now? Why bother to tell me now?"_

_"I have my reasons," Severus cryptically replied. "The biggest of which, is that I could not, in good conscience , let this-" he gestured between the two of them, "-continue without you knowing the truth, and hearing it from me. I am no coward, you needed to hear it from me, and so I did it."_

_"So even though you knew I would probably hate you, you told me anyway."_

_When put like, it gave him far too much credit. He nodded, because it was far easier to do that then try to explain about the things he did not deserve._

_"I don't want to forgive you," Harry mumbled, throwing down the pestle a little too hard next to the mortar, "I shouldn't forgive you. You're the reason they were killed."_

_"I am," he replied with a shaky exhale. "You have no reason to forgive me, Harry."_

_His green eyes shifted at the sound of his name coming from Severus's baritone voice. No matter what Harry decided, he wouldn't stop protecting this child. At first it was only because he was Lily's child, but now he felt like Severus's son and he would always feel that way. If that meant he went back to protecting the Gryffindor from the shadows, then that was what he would do._

_"Ok," Harry said so randomly, Severus thought he missed a part of the conversation deep in his own thoughts._

_"I'm sorry?" He uncharacteristically questioned, his own brow furrowing as he tried to interpret that single word Harry muttered._

_"I said 'ok'," Harry reiterated just as cryptically as Before. "I want to go home for Christmas, if it's not too late."_

_"It's not," he answered, trying his hardest not to get his hopes up. "But Harry underst-"_

_"I know, Severus," Harry interrupted, "I still have a ton of questions, and someday I may need to talk about it with you, but right now I just want to go home."_

_Severus smiled. He couldn't help it. It was by far the best outcome of all the scenarios he'd imagined. And while Harry did not - and possibly never would - extend his forgiveness, it was a sin he would always live with and spend the rest of his life trying to atone for._

_That day in the potions laboratory, Severus didn't ask what changed Harry's mind. Later he'd find out that the Gryffindor had appropriately sought his friends' advice and he would be astonished by the fact that they didn't immediately tell Harry he should run away as fast as he could. Instead, they listened to him - as good friends do - and helped him to come to the decision on his own. They all showed a level of maturity in the situation far beyond their twelve and thirteen years._

_The pair did go back to Spinner's End later that night where Severus managed to find and conjure or transfigure, enough Christmas decorations to brighten up their humble abode for the joyous holiday. The next day, the day before Christmas Eve, Severus took Harry to a local Christmas tree farm where they picked a tree the muggle way and brought it back home - with a secret wandless, nonverbal featherlight charm placed upon it - to decorate. It was there, while they were sitting beside the measly sized pine tree decorated with flickering candles, holly vines with berries, and a set of wooden ornaments he purchased earlier this month for this specific occasion, that he presented Harry with a elaborately decorated box that was too light to feel like anything was inside of it. During those days between when he'd told Harry about his role with the prophecy and when Harry showed up in his Potion's laboratory, he'd decided that this type of question could not simply be done by sliding a set of papers across the kitchen table. Eliciting advice from Minerva - under the hopeful assumption Harry would give him another chance - he'd decided to go this route regardless of how cliché it was._

_The short time it took Harry to open the box, pull out the adoption papers, and read through them enough to understand what they were, felt like the longest moments of Severus's life. It was in these moments that he was at the most vulnerable he would probably ever be; asking the child he'd been caring for to become his son. It was worth letting his guard down to allow Harry into his life because he could have never guessed the journey this moment would set them on: the amount of joy and happiness, followed by the tragedy and grief he would experience, until he would finally end up in a whole different world with a different version of the boy in front of him; a teenager who at some point he would hope could be just as forgiving._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Capture the Dragon


	63. Capture the Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: There is a scene in here that is derived (not the exact same) from the Deathly Hallows. It's in the italicized section and those belong to JK Rowling.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus was exhausted. They were only on day two of Harry's repeat of consolidation - which consisted of eight out of eleven days of chemotherapy - and as they all had anticipated, it was hard on Harry; on both his body and his mind. Naturally, that meant the other two residents in the dungeon quarters were feeling the stress that was radiating in waves from Harry's bedroom, coating the walls in a foul anxiety that practically seeped into the Slytherins through their pores. Draco became as arrogant as ever in reaction to the stress, pushing every button, knowingly or not, that the professor had. For Severus, it took the unfortunate form of an extremely short temper, which more times than not, was funneled towards Draco; only about half of which the blonde actually deserved.

The first of these instances was that afternoon. He and Draco had a minor power struggle over breakfast when Severus had mentioned that helping out Madam Pomfrey with Harry's treatment would be a great addition to his pre-healer training and the teen shrugged it off. It was a gesture the professor hated when Harry in the old reality used to do it and under their current predicament he didn't want to put up with it from Draco, either. However at that point he'd been up all of the night with Harry, reminiscent of their Privet Drive or the 22 hour chemo days, and the Gryffindor had just started his four hour IV, so he let it slide. The major infraction didn't come until later that afternoon when Severus went out to the sitting room to find Harry's sketchpad in hopes of giving the young wizard some kind of distraction from the burning pain that restarted with that day's treatment.

Draco was working on something - Severus really wasn't sure what as he hadn't been paying attention when he walked from the corridor to the sofa - at the desk still dressed in a pair of his black pyjamas. That should have been a clue to the state of mind the blonde was in that afternoon because he had a feeling the Malfoys had it ingrained into their minds what was acceptable clothing to wear post-lunch. Severus could hardly say he had gotten dressed in the last two days, wearing a set of black trousers and a casual white shirt, but Draco had rarely been seen outside of his bedroom in his pyjamas, especially at a quarter past three in the afternoon.

"What are you searching so frantically for?" Draco called over his shoulder.

"Harry's sketching book," he replied, pressing his hands in between the sofa cushions in search of the elusive object.

"Dear Merlin," Draco aggressively pushed his chair back and brandished his wand, "are you all so daft that you forget about magic? _Accio Harry's sketchbook."_

Severus heard a hard slam on Draco's bedroom door, causing the blonde's pointed face to flush. A quick wave of his own ebony wand swung the door open and, as expected, the black covered book came zooming out of Draco's bedroom causing Severus to narrow his eyes. Why did the Slytherin teen have something so personal to Harry in his bedroom? They'd gotten along a lot better lately, leading up to and including their Transfiguration debacle from only two days ago, nevertheless he knew Harry wouldn't show just anyone his work and the last person would be Draco Malfoy. That only left one option: the Malfoy heir had stolen it.

"Why was it in your room?" Severus sharply accused with a tone of curiosity laced with anger.

Draco turned around quickly in his chair, his silver eyes filled with caution that soon gave way to fire when the implication of his question was understood. The teen closed his eyes and appeared to be counting, which in any other scenario would have made Severus proud, however after two long days he took it as insolence.

"You _will_ answer me when I ask you a question. Now why did you have Harry's sketchbook?" He demanded, half yelling it across the small sitting room.

Draco stood suddenly and threw his quill at the desk to his side, breaking the tip of it, "Does it really matter? You clearly already think I'm guilty of something."

And then, the teenage wizard did the one other thing that irritated Severus more than shrugging; he walked away. If Draco had known what that simple act would trigger, Severus was sure he wouldn't have done it, but hindsight is 20/20 and thus they started down the path to their destruction.

It took the former spy a matter of seconds to make his way in Draco's wake to the teen's bedroom on the other side of their quarters. What he expected to find, a scowling blonde sixteen year old, was nothing compared to what he found upon pulling the door quickly opened. The room looked absolutely nothing like the one that had been created only three weeks ago for the young wizard. The once light colored furniture was now made of a dark wood with extensive moldings and carvings on them, and the fabrics around the four poster bed were now extravagantly made; similar to what he expected was in Draco's bedroom back at Malfoy Manor. The desk was larger than the old one and sat a bit lopsided, which he assumed was the last piece in the bedroom to get "redecorated" and its lack of symmetry was probably due to Draco's lack of focus or magical drain from doing this much Transfiguration at one time.

It was that fact which angered the professor the most. Last Friday when he walked on the hilarious ending to Transfiguration Roulette - the rabbit was by far one of the best "mistakes" he'd seen even from his own Slytherin days - he'd assumed that was the extent of the magical work. To now know that all of that came _after_ this very calculated transfiguration was concerning; Draco valuing his furniture and décor above that of his personal safety. After all, if Draco wanted a different style of furniture, he only needed to ask and Severus would have asked for Minerva's assistance on something this glamorous and extreme. Had the professor been in a better frame of mind, he would have explained all of that to the teen, instead he used the opportunity to release some of his own frustrations.

"What is all of this?" Severus slammed the door behind him - so hard the clock on Draco's desk rattled around - and swept his hands across the air around him to demonstrate what he was furious over.

"I'd call it an improvement," the blonde arrogantly said. "The place was looking quite dreadful, I don't even want to know where the furniture came from before I fixed it into proper furniture."

"That improper furniture came from the spare rooms here in the castle," the dark haired Slytherin choked out between his gritted teeth. Pulling his wand out, he swept it across the room essentially untransfiguring every piece back to its less grandeur, original state. Draco, who had been seated on the bed, fell about 8 centimeters when his mattress returned to the smaller one that had originally come with the bed.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for, Severus?!" Draco yelled, standing up from his bed. His back was straightened out as tall as he could stretch to try to appear as an equal to Severus instead of just a child. "So now what? You think you can come in and punish me? News flash, you're not my father! You're not anyone's father, nor are you good enough to be anyone's father, so why don't you stop pretending-"

"Oh, because your father is clearly a paragon of good parenting-" he couldn't stop himself from looking at Draco's left forearm.

"Ha!" Draco spat back with a frown to match the look of disgust across his face. "At least I can say I was forced to get mine! Can you say the same about yours?!"

There was something about that question, and the look of betrayal in the steel eyes watching him, that took the former spy by surprise. He looked around the room again, why had he done it? He could have just as easily lectured the teen about the dangers in using this level of magic unsupervised, especially when it was on objects he was physically using. Or he could have taken a much higher road and recognized that Draco's Transfiguration level was such that these likely would be permanent fixtures and instead he could have offered to help fix some of the mistaken Transfiguration so that the furniture was at least safe to use. Instead, he'd chosen the most detrimental path, the one that taught no lesson to the wizard in his care and gave himself the ultimate satisfaction in watching the work become completely undone. It was cruel and, worse, it was something his own father would have done. And to top it off, he got into a yelling match with the teen over something so trivial.

Feeling like the pressure in his chest had been released, he gave the room a quick glance over again before his eyes fell onto Draco. He looked just as tired as Severus felt and though the Malfoy heir would never admit to it, Severus saw the hurt in his eyes that his work had been reversed.

"Draco-" he started, but was interrupted by the sphere vibrating in his left pocket. The sphere that Harry had hardly used all last phase and was now an acting lifeline for the ill wizard. And though there was little the former spy could do to help him, he knew that by just sitting beside him - sometimes talking, other times not - made the Gryffindor feel marginally better and he was willing to do whatever he could, no matter how small.

"Go," Draco firmly said, not hiding his disappointment, he's eyes lingering on the orange sphere in Severus's right hand. "Who knows what he's managed to get himself into this time."

"This conversation is far from over," Severus pointed his finger threateningly at the defiant teenager thinking to himself that this was not going well in the slightest.

"Sure it isn't," he heard the other Slytherin mumble as he left the room.

His guilt weighed heavily on his mind as he crossed the short distance from Draco's bedroom, across the sitting room and into Harry's bedroom. He'd need to make things right with Draco, but his mind was too clouded to be able to do that today. Did it really matter in the long run that Draco had transfigured all his furniture? His student had obviously been safe during the process, though there was plenty that could have gone wrong, so why did he feel compelled to undo the work so quickly? He was unwilling to admit that it was simply to give him control over the situation, when there was so much he couldn't control lately, but that didn't mean he wasn't aware of that simple fact.

As he opened Harry's door, he surveyed the scene in front of him and was relieved to find nothing out of the ordinary; or at least what had become ordinary for the last two days. Harry was lying in his bed, dressed in a pair of blue pyjamas from yesterday's treatment that he hadn't yet changed out of today. His face was grimaced in pain, but at this point there wasn't anything Severus could do to help him as the young wizard wasn't due for another dose of pain medication for another hour. Forgetting that he'd left the sketch book - his entire reason for leaving to begin with - in the sitting room, he pulled out his wand and summoned it with a small shake of his head at the memory of Draco's sarcastic comment.

Harry didn't sketch though; he couldn't stay focused on the page in front of him, which looked far too much like Harry lying in a hospital bed for Severus's liking. He briefly considered looking through the book as a way to check on Harry's viewpoint of himself and those around him, but decided against it, choosing not to risk shattering the trust they'd built that such an invasion of privacy would inevitably cause. The professor helped the young wizard to the lavatory several times over the next couple of hours until finally he'd fallen asleep just past seven o'clock, meaning they had both missed dinnertime.

Not at all feeling hungry, Severus went to the kitchen to prepare some basic soup for himself, hoping that Draco had eaten at their usual time. The door to the blonde's room was closed, which didn't really mean much of anything, but there was evidence he'd at least eaten so the former spy was set to let the issue go for now. He'd already shown that he was far too tired to logically handle the situation at the current moment.

* * *

**_Monday 24 February, 1997_ **

Severus originally planned not to teach during Harry's two hard weeks of chemotherapy, but after everything with Draco at the Quidditch match, he felt the need to be in at least his sixth year classes. Since Harry did half of his treatments on Saturday and Sunday that only left him missing Monday morning's treatment. Molly Weasley offered to stay with Harry during this time and he was grateful for her ability to help out, giving him a much needed break from his caregiver role.

He wasn't surprised when Draco did not appear for breakfast that morning, though he had hoped to clear the air between the two of them before class. Most of the night he'd spent up with Harry, but it gave him some much needed time to think about what had occurred with Draco and how unfair he'd been to the teen.

Today in class he originally planned a lecture on Lethifolds since they'd already covered Dementors and the Patronus Charm and it would make the subject a relatively easy one. However even with an extra cup of his morning coffee - spiked with an Invigorating Draft - he knew there was no way he would be able to stay focused enough to do the coursework justice. During the walk up from the dungeons, he was racking his mind for something else to do for the day when the sun shining through one of the extravagantly decorated windows caught his attention. There was still some light snow on the ground that could easily be cleared away for his idea to work, but the ground would still be frozen and the wind bitter cold making the conditions far from a smart idea. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it was probably a terrible time to do this, however once the idea attached itself into his brain there was no stopping it. Today, he would be taking the class on a small field trip for a different type of lesson outside.

By the time he entered his classroom - a minute late, yet he knew not a single student would dare to call him out on it - he stood before the group of students making the final decision to go forward with his plan.

"You are all to go back to your dormitories and collect your winter cloaks and gloves," he instructed with no preamble, "I expect each and every one of you to meet me in the courtyard in no more than fifteen minutes. Should anyone not return to the courtyard, you will get a zero for the day and on your next exam."

There was an expected murmuring throughout the classroom, but not a single student made a motion to move.

"Go!" He yelled, which had its intended effect as all the students left the class with haste. The professor rustled through his desk until he found the exact two things he was looking for: a model of a Norwegian Ridgeback and a Urkranian Ironbelly, before heading out for the courtyard himself.

It didn't surprise him that the Gryffindors were the first to arrive, followed by the Hufflepuffs, then Ravenclaws. But when the entire Slytherins waltzed in at the fourteen minute mark, he held back the expression of concern he was tempted to show. It was disconcerting that he went from being the professor that this particular group of students practically worshipped to the professor they pushed the limits consistently; not to mention that he was their Head of House and should have more respect than he'd been given. Not that he wasn't already, but it showed how close of an eye he'd need to keep on his house, especially considering Draco's task and what happened with the Quidditch attack.

"Es freezin' out 'ere," Seamus Finnigan complained to the group of his fellow classmates around him.

"You'll warm up," Severus replied, which did get the desired effect of causing the Irish wizard to jump at his unexpected answer. "We, or more accurately you, are going to play a game for this class. Has any heard of Capture the Dragon?"

The talking among the students increased ten fold as they were getting excited for what lay ahead of them during the class. Completely ignoring the questions about specific rules and level of hexes and jinxes that could be used, he walked out of the courtyard and down the path to the area he'd seen from the window in the castle. It was a perfect set up for the game and he was surprised that more picked up games of this, without the hexes of course, weren't played here in the past. The area consisted of a nice open space, perfect for combat, and two "bases" on either side - one made of the circle of rocks and the other a small set of trees - that would be used to protect the miniature dragons he had in his pocket that he would charm with the appropriate colors. He cleared out the snow with a heating spell and cast the appropriate charms on their makeshift arena for his specific rules of play. Capture the Dragon was a wizarding version of the muggle game of a similar name - Capture the Flag - that he'd seen played too many times in the field near his home in Cokesworth. Not particularly keen on athletics in general, he would never partake in the game as a child or teen even if he had been invited to play; which he never was. The wizarding version had many names depending on the object being captured, but the rest of the rules were more or less the same.

With the arena now ready, he not-so-randomly, while making it look in every outward appearance as randomly, separated the class into two teams by changing their robes to orange or purple - to prevent any house loyalties - as evenly as possible based on each students' skill level. This meant intentionally placing Longbottom on the Orange Team with Draco - who was opposite to Hermione - to balance out the experience along with Nott to ensure there would be no accidental curses thrown at one another. The rest of the Slytherins could be divided up pretty evenly because no one besides Draco stood out too much in aptitude.

"I've placed a model of a dragon in each base that you will attempt to collect. The orange is on the side of the trees and the purple on the side of the rocks," he pointed to his left and right respectively. "Your objective is simple, when you see the green sparks from my wand, each team will attempt to collect your team's dragon and return it to your base before the other team.

"The rules are also simple: you're limited to only jinxes and hexes that will not cause any lasting damage and you are only allowed to be hit by three hexes before you're put in a one minute time out, which will be in the form of an automatically casted freezing charm. Once someone has their team's dragon, it can be passed from player to player for a better position, but if it's dropped it will automatically be sent back to the opposing team's starting base. Neither _Accio_ nor _Wingardium_ _leviosa_ will work on the charmed dragons and should you attempt either, they will independently count as one of your three penalty hits."

He paused as the teams all nodded and immediately went into strategy planning. Given that they were pretty evenly matched, he was interested to see how each one took to their specific strategy. He intentionally did not explain that they could use counter jinxes on their teammates who had been hit by their opponents, and he had his own internal debate going on if it would be one of the Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors that suggest a teammate be designated as the "curse breaker." If he'd ever played this as a teen, that was the exact position he would want to do, and he would have been good at it.

"Teams, take your sides! Should neither team manage to secure their dragon before the end of class, the red sparks from my wand will signify the end of play and I will determine which team is furthest to a win," he called out after giving both teams ample time to strategize and he held his wand above his head. "Remember, if I see anything even remotely close to a damaging spell, you will not only fail the lesson, but I will personally see to it that you are scrubbing the lavatories with Mr Filch for the remainder of term."

Satisfied with the appropriate nods and "yes, sirs," he spelled out green sparks from his wand and took to the side to watch the battle unfold.

For this lesson, which was already a better use of his exhausted state than his intended lecture on Lethifolds, he would simply be watching for appropriate use of their defensive strategies in the line of fire. The benefit to a game like this, as opposed to dueling, was that not only are there multiple opponents to keep track of, but more importantly there was a target that the student was trying to keep safe; mirroring any defensive scenario more accurately. Rarely would any witch or wizard find themselves in a one-on-one duel, especially given the war that was starting, rather they would not only be battling in multiple fronts, they may also be trying to keep others safe around them. He had a feeling that Hermione, Ron, and Neville would find this exercise oddly like their experience in the Department of Mysteries and if the political situation were different, he would like to have them speak about that encounter. Given that the class had at least three students whose parents were active Death Eaters, that would not be very intelligent on his part.

The game started out more or less as he predicted it would, with the Gryffindors taking the front lines - all of whom were in Harry's defense group - and the Slytherins, less Draco, held further back. It almost fit too well with their house traits, that Severus found himself questioning if by sorting, they were doing a disservice to the students by endorsing their strengths instead of building up their weaknesses. It would be something he would plan to discuss with Albus. He couldn't help thinking about how much of a difference raising Harry in his old reality, with a little extra self-preservation, made; it very well could have been what was needed to prevent the Dark Lord's accession here. Imagine what the next generation of the magical population could be like if they encouraged the students to coexist across houses. If the Gryffindors who were currently trying every which way to get to their dragon had a little more cunning added to their plan, or the Ravenclaws put a little more action behind their well thought out one.

Both teams managed to get their dragon in the first quarter of an hour. Draco secured it first for the Orange Team relatively quickly compared to Dean Thomas who sneaked in for the Purple Team right under the quarter hour mark. Severus was impressed that Draco had taken the initiative, and it again fed into his theory that the students needed a little more characteristic diversity. Unsurprising was the fact that neither team thought to set up any major defenses for the dragon they were trying to keep from their opponents. As this was _Defense_ Against the Dark Arts, an essay on protection strategies would be a perfect follow up to this lesson. For once, he was actually looking forward to marking them next week.

The next major observation the professor took notice of was which students ended up in the one-minute time out for getting hit with three hexes. Lavender Brown was by far the worst offender, followed closely by Ernie Macmillan and Terry Boot. A piece of parchment was charmed along with the arena so that it documented each spell that made a successful hit - marking both the caster and receiver - so he could keep track of each student and his or her progress. On his next version of the activity - having already decided this was a success and would be worth repeating - the charm would be set up to record every spell cast including the spell used, caster, recipient, and if it was a successful hit or block. That would allow him the ability to keep track of each pupil's individual progress regardless of if the spell hit its intended target.

As they approached the forty minute mark, and the end of class, neither team had successfully placed their dragon back in its rightful home. So far, the Purple Team had come the closest, until Neville managed to hit Pansy Parkinson with a leg locking jinx, causing her to immediately fall to the ground, and drop the dragon; automatically sending it back to the orange side. Padma Patil, the Purple Team's designated "Curse Breaker", saw her go down and ran to perform the counter jinx. As if Longbottom taking out Parkinson wasn't odd enough - and Patil running to the Slytherin witch's rescue - Draco actually congratulated the other wizard on his quick spell work, proving the blonde's competitive nature overruled his normal social stature.

Severus raised his wand in the air, ready to release the red sparks indicating the end of the game in less than a minute. In their current standings, the Orange Team would have an "assumed win" because the purple dragon was currently sitting in the orange base and Nott was three-fourths of the way across the field with the orange dragon in his hands. The professor paused his arm mid-air and watched the scene play out. Hermione was the closest Purple Team member to the orange base and immediately took off towards it in an attempt to recapture their dragon after Parkinson's fall, until Zararchias Smith used a well placed shield over himself and the dragon, rebounding her _Flipendo_ back, knocking the Gryffindor witch to the ground. Simultaneously, Dean Thomas shot a well aimed _Relashio_ at Nott in an attempt to get him to drop the dragon, which would end the game in a draw. The Slytherin somehow anticipated the spell coming his way and tossed the orange dragon across the remainder of the field to Draco, who jumped and grabbed it, demonstrating his well honed Seeker skills, and placed it on the base, winning the game in the last ten seconds. From Severus's wand came a flash of orange sparks denoting the team that had won as well as the end of the game. It was a game played in perfect team synchronization where the students had somehow managed to put aside their difference for a common goal; a lesson witches and wizards well beyond their sixteen and seventeen years could learn.

All around him students were speaking over one another discussing their triumphs and trials from the game.

"Did you see when-"

"- got lucky there."

"-need to practice my-"

There were very few times the professor felt he was actually making a difference in his classroom, most of that coming from the fact that he never envisioned himself as a professor to begin with. However that morning - while overhearing the bits and pieces of the conversations around him, as the students were returning from the field - he thought that for once he'd done something right and taught them something of value they could use both inside and outside of the school.

"Sneaking in a last second win is the Orange Team," he announced the results, though they all already knew. "The Purple Team will write an essay, due at Wednesday's class, about ways you could have improved your chances at winning. Please keep in mind things outside of your personal spells such as communication with your teammates, strategies, and weaknesses.

"I expect everyone to write an essay due Monday on how a good _defense_ is just as important as a good _offense_ as well as how the different positions, or roles, of each teammate impacted your success or failure. I am not requiring a length on either of those, however keep in mind that should we repeat this exercise later in the year it would behoove you to have a solid understanding of these concepts."

By not requiring a length, he knew exactly what he would get: a solid line drawn between those who were taking this class seriously and those who were looking for an easy out; he would use that to his advantage next time.

"Class is dismissed," he called out, but then added, "Mr Malfoy, please stay behind."

He'd kept a close eye on Draco throughout the game given what had happened the previous night. If nothing else, his anger and aggression seemed to have died down from the running and casting the activity required; not too unlike dueling with Harry to ease his pent up anger last month. And providing the last minute win for his team had caused the newest spy to release a rare smile, showing that under all his tough exterior he was still a sixteen year old boy. As expected, the blonde bid his girlfriend farewell in a manner that was little more reserved compared to previous encounters.

"Let's walk back inside," he told Draco, leading him back into the warmth of the castle. When they were back inside, utilizing an empty classroom that he secured with a privacy ward, he turned humbly to his newest charge, "I'd like to apologize for my actions yesterday afternoon. My inability to keep my temper under control should not have been taken out on you. That being said, you will respect me in our quarters regardless of my lack of familial ties to you. As the one person currently ensuring your personal safety, I expect no less."

It was an unfortunate truth he hated to bring up. If it weren't for him demanding that Draco live with him, Albus would have likely sent the teen back to the Slytherin dorms after the Quidditch attack. Who knew what would have happened if he'd gone back?

"I know what you're doing for me," Draco admitted a bit reluctantly, "and I do… appreciate it."

"We're all in a difficult position, Draco," the professor explained, though it wasn't an excuse, "I'll speak with the headmaster to get an update about your mother. Hopefully all of this will be put behind you very soon."

A scowl crossed the blonde's pointed face at the reminder that the end goal of all of this was to go into hiding. He'd leave behind his education - though a privately held one at this point wouldn't necessarily do any harm - and his friends, primarily his girlfriend. The professor wasn't sure how much the young wizard knew about Harry and his role in the war, at a bare minimum he didn't know about horcruxes and that Harry had to get through chemotherapy before they could remove the soul piece, so the length of time he'd be in hiding would remain a big unknown to Draco. It was a hard concept for even an adult to understand, therefore expecting a teenager to not only understand, but be accepting of it wasn't fair. Though as he always said life rarely was fair, at least in his experience.

Thinking back to this year it had, without a doubt, been the worst one to date. With each passing week, Severus found himself hoping - an act he usually tried not to do - more and more that things would eventually settle down and yet each week brought a new, sometimes worse, set of challenges. Taking a play from Harry's book he tried not to think too hard about the upcoming months, the antithesis to his spying days, otherwise the unknown of what was coming became too much for even him to try to comprehend.

"If you want to redecorate your room," he said to the teen across from him as a way to signify their disagreement was behind them, "I can ask Professor McGonagall to supervise your work."

Draco gave a small chuckle, "No, the more I think about it the more I get the feeling I won't be here much longer to enjoy it."

~~~~HP~~~~

_The drawing room where he was meeting with his most loyal followers was so eerily silent he could hear his own racing heartbeat practically crashing through his chest. He'd been ill, more ill than he'd ever been before, confirming just how awful muggles and their filthy diseases were. Not willing to show any weakness to anyone in his ranks, by the end of January he stopped attending the well planned raids. There was still carnage, he made sure of that with his liberal use of his Legilimency gift. None of them stood a chance against him in that regard anymore, because while he was physically weak, his mind was still as clear as could be. Now, he needed to start moving forward with his plans to take over the Ministry, so when he was finally free from this prison he could move as quickly as possible._

_The long ornate table was the only piece of furniture left in the drawing room. He'd pushed the rest of the usual furniture against the wall for this occasion; this was not a social visit, it was planning._ _Illumination and warmth came from a roaring fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded mirror. He was always cold, and the last week or so had been far worse than anything he'd experienced before. According to his newest spy within Hogwarts, his symptoms were matching that of the Potter boy, though the young Malfoy heir would not know of their link and how that was possible. He was not present at today's meeting, a strategic decision made to keep him focused on his task ahead, as well as to provide the opportunity to check in with his latest mentor - Rabastan Lestrange. The younger Lestrange brother has proven his worth time and again, which was much more than he could ever say about the Malfoy Patriarch. The latter was here merely as a form of torture: to watch his young heir step into the role of Death Eater or die trying._

" _My Lord," Yaxley started once everyone was seated, their backs straight and tall in his presence so their fear could not be seen and exploited. "A well placed Imperious Curse upon Pius Thickness should be more than enough to jumpstart the collapse of the Ministry into your hands."_

_Many of those sitting around Yaxley looked impressed; his neighbor, Dolohov, clapped him on the back. But he was not so convinced._

" _It is a start," he said. "But you must think bigger. Thicknesse is only one man and Scrimgeour must be surrounded by our people before we can make our move. One failed attempt on the Minister's life will set me back a long way."_

" _Yes – my Lord, that is true – but you know, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Thicknesse has regular contact not only with the Minister himself, but also with the Heads of all the other Ministry departments_ ," _he could feel the self-doubt radiating from his second most successful follower, "It will, I should think, be easy enough to subjugate the others once we have control over such a high ranking official, and then they can all work together to bring Scrimgeour down for us."_

" _As long as Thicknesse is not discovered before he has converted the rest," he challenged, "I suggest you firm up the timeline before attempting the Imperious as our time will be limited once that happens."_

_This needed to work, he needed the Ministry under his control and if they failed Yaxley would pay the price for it with more than just rotting in Azkaban. There was a snickering around the table before the next order of business was attended to. The healer's missing presence had not gone unnoticed and there had begun an investigation that would eventually lead to Lucius and their Manor. This was not his concern right now; they would simply need to find a way to explain her months long absence or find him a new healer and dispose of this one. In the end he assigned this task to Dolohov, who seemed keen on Yaxley's good, but meager, work._

_"Rabastan," he called out as the group anxiously left the room upon their dismissal._

_As the good and faithful servant he was, the thin man sat back down at the table, though he noticed three seats still separated them. Lucius lingered at the doorway, his eyes shifting nervously between the two wizards left in his former drawing room. Reluctantly, and only at the insistence of his wife, the Patriarch gave in and slowly exited the room, closing the door at the last possible moment._

_At first, neither of the two remaining wizards said a word, then clearing his throat the Death Eater said, "Yes, my Lord?"_

_"Tell me," he hissed across the table, "how is your new protégé?"_

_"Everything is going as expected, my Lord," Rabastan confidently replied, "we'll have a plan in place for you in the coming weeks to flesh out the traitor."_

**_Friday, 28 February 1997_ **

Harry woke up completely disoriented, something that generally didn't happen too often now that he had been back under quarantine at home, but something about that vision felt different to him. In the midst of his confusion, he hadn't noticed his scar was actively bleeding down the side of his face due to his lower than even his normal platelet counts.

"Harry?" Draco came walking tentatively into his room and his grey eyes immediately went wide causing Harry to grab at his forehead where he finally felt the warm sticky blood beneath his fingers. "Shite!"

"I'm alright," Harry blurted out quickly, but the Slytherin had already left for the lavatory and returned with a wet towel that he awkwardly handed to Harry. "Thanks."

"I hope you don't think I'm heartless enough to let you bleed out," Draco replied sarcastically. "Hermione would never talk to me again."

"Well, thanks anyways," Harry oddly held up the towel and an uncomfortable silence fell upon them. The Gryffindor's mind was racing, but eventually landed on a single thought, "It didn't burn this time."

That was what felt different; he didn't wake up to the telltale sign of a vision with his scar searing his forehead.

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked, taking a seat at the desk and picking up the book he'd been carrying before going for the towel.

"Where's Severus?"

"I can see why that 'answer a question with a question' thing bothered you so much," Draco replied. The comment earned him a hard stare from Harry so he was satisfied with himself over it.

In truth, the two teens had barely seen each other since the intense chemotherapy had started, mostly because Harry rarely left his room, even though the first round ended three days ago. Snape had taken most of the work managing the IVs, tablets, and feeding tube, along with Madam Pomfrey and Dr Swanson's assistance, and while he'd encouraged Draco to take interest, the young Slytherin just couldn't do it.

"He's got his weekly date with Professor McGonagall," the blonde said, narrowing his eyes at the Gryffindor. "It's Friday night, didn't you know that?"

Harry shook his head; he hadn't realized that it was Friday night. The days from this awful week had all more or less merged into one where he slept when he could regardless of the time of day, hardly ate anything making him grateful for the feeding tube, and tried every which way possible to relieve the pain in his body. He was exhausted, physically, mentally, magically, inside and out, and now he was getting told that he would be starting it all again tomorrow. At this point - based solely on the level of burning in his stomach - he assumed his magic had to be almost gone, but he was too afraid of the answer to ask or try any out on his own. It was a depressing thought that almost made falling back into the vision preferable to staying awake.

"What are you working on?" Harry asked, nodding his head to the book that he already knew was their defense text.

"Just an assignment from Snape," Draco's face turned a deep, dark red giving away the fact that it was probably something he didn't want to admit. Then as almost an afterthought he added, "It's due Monday."

Harry leaned back against his bed and closed his eyes, "Have I missed anything good?"

The silence was deafening and Harry could feel the guilt - or as close to guilt as Draco Malfoy could get - pouring out of the wizard at his desk.

"We learned about Lethifolds on Wednesday," Draco nonchalantly said. "And then Monday we played Capture the Dragon. That's what the assignment is from, we have to explain the benefits of defensive strategies versus offensive ones."

"Who won?" The Gryffindor was trying his hardest to keep the envy out of his voice. Growing up in a muggle household, he didn't exactly know what Capture the Dragon entailed, but he'd seen plenty of kids in his primary school play capture the flag. If only they had known how good Harry had been at running and dodging around people - a honed skill from Harry Hunting - maybe then he would have gotten to play with them. That of course wouldn't have done anything to stop the other kids from being terrified that Dudley would hunt them if they befriended his spectacled freak of a cousin.

"He split us up randomly and I ended up with-" Draco crinkled his left eye closed thinking about his team, "Nott, Longbottom, Patil… the Gryffindor one… Brown, Finnigan, Goldstein… Smith, and Corner. Naturally, yours truly brought his team to victory."

Harry shook his head at the arrogance that felt so normal it almost made him smile. If nothing else it would be nice to talk to someone who didn't feel the need to walk on eggshells around him. He was sick, and he was in an extreme amount of pain, but none of that compared to how emotionally draining it was to know the person you were talking to was filtering out the things they thought you didn't want to hear; essentially patronizing him.

"That put you against Hermione again?" Harry gave a small chuckle, but had to stop abruptly when a pain radiated from his side across his stomach causing him to grimace in pain. "I take it you weren't... easy on her?"

"Hey now," Draco retorted as he simultaneously handed Harry the glass of water from the desk, "a Malfoy is always a gentleman to his lady."

"You forget that I saw you duel her last month," again Harry had a hard time keeping a straight face as he said his sarcastic comeback.

Draco narrowed his eyes again, but ultimately nodded his agreement. He had beaten his girlfriend in the tournament style duel after the holidays, so he couldn't actually deny anything. Somehow, that small exchange broke the dam between them and Draco started giving Harry a play-by-play account of what had happened in the game with such detail that the Gryffindor felt like he could have been right there sending jinxes with his classmates. Harry thoroughly enjoyed hearing the different strategies they'd tried until it was finally a "all hell broke loose" race to the middle of the field throwing hexes and jinxes.

Deep down, Harry wished he could have been there to participate. It all started by him wondering what team Snape would have put him on because it didn't seem like it was completely random like Draco had alluded to. He didn't know a lot about the Slytherins level of Defense, but based on the rest of the D.A. members, it appeared like Snape separated them based on their skill level; he chose pretty much the same teams Harry would have chosen if it had been a drill from one of last year's meetings. That led him down a winding path of what strategy he would have suggested. No matter which team he'd been on - except maybe Ron's because everyone knew the redhead was a great strategist - there were enough D.A. members for them to have unofficially made him the captain. So what would his strategy be? A year ago, he would have probably been right in front charging to get the dragon, but today he couldn't be so sure he wouldn't be in the back with the Slytherins. Maybe he'd observe his opponents and try to find their weaknesses first so then when he raced forward - because there was no way he'd sit in the back the entire time - he would know how to best them.

Assuming he would be exempt from this assignment, he didn't feel guilty at all discussing his ideas with Draco. He even noticed the blonde taking some notes, which was both surprising and encouraging to him. Harry had no idea how long they'd been talking, but it had definitely been doing a great job at keeping his mind busy because he hadn't noticed Snape walk in the door carrying all the supplies to set up the feeding tube. The professor's sudden presence startled the Gryffindor, causing him to drop the goblet of water he was holding, soaking the bedspread around him.

"Sorry, sir," Harry mumbled.

"Don't be," Snape simply replied while waving his hand across the blanket to dry it, "I should have knocked. I heard you talking and didn't want to interrupt while you fed Draco the key points for his essay. Now I know what not to accept in his work on Monday."

"Wow," Draco said dramatically, feigning hurt feelings, "I see what you both think of me now. It's crystal clear."

Snape left the two teenagers briefly to go to the lavatory and wash his hands as he would be handling the materials for Harry's feeding tube. When he returned, he stopped still and Harry noticed the all too familiar flick of his black eyes to his forehead. Sometime while talking to Draco, he'd forgotten about the vision and his bleeding scar.

"Draco," the former spy commanded, "I think you've had enough help on your homework for the night."

The Slytherin stood and exaggeratingly wiped fake dust from his trousers and stretched slowly, "I can hear a dismissal like that from a mile away. See ya later, Potter."

Harry gave a small smirk as he watched the hubristic Malfoy heir grab his textbook and leave.

"Care to tell me what happened?" Snape predictably asked when the door closed. He was working on Harry's supplies as he spoke.

"I had a vision while you were gone," the young wizard explained, "I forgot about my scar bleeding, is it alright?"

After taking a closer look at his scar, the professor said, "It appears to be clotting well."

After all this time - plus during the Privet Drive attack, the fight with Ron, and the incident with his Potion's knife - he hadn't really thought about what would happen if something hadn't been right. What if he started bleeding and it just couldn't stop? Would this continue to be a problem once he was in Maintenance phase? And if so, what about when he was living on his own? The whole situation was too overwhelming to think about with his current mindscape where it was, so he tabled those thoughts for later. Maybe it was something he could ask Dr Swanson about before he started maintenance; by then, hopefully it wouldn't matter anymore.

"What was the vision about?" Snape sat at the end of the bed after starting the nutrients to ask the question Harry knew he'd been anxious to ask since finding out he'd had a vision.

"He's planning something… at the Ministry," Harry thought hard about what he'd seen. "It wasn't a full meeting, because no one was in their robe and mask."

"Anything specific from this meeting? Or about their plans?"

Harry considered the question and lectured himself for not thinking to write it down when he'd woken up. "He's going to use the Imperious curse on… I can't remember who, but I think he's got to try to kill Scrimgeour. Afterwards he asked one of them to stay, and I think they're going to kill the healer because of an investigation into her disappearance."

It was that last part that had the young wizard worried the most. He looked up at Snape and begged him through his dull green eyes to help her.

"I'll speak with the Order and get the investigation dropped. That should save her at least a little while longer," the former spy reassured him. "Did you recognize the wizard that stayed behind?"

Harry shook his head, "I saw him at the Department of Mysteries last year, but that's all I know." Furrowing his brows, he thought back about the man and tried to describe him, "He was really tall and thin with dark hair, and pretty clean cut besides a goatee. I never heard his name."

It was Snape's turn to nod his head and the young wizard wanted to ask if he knew who he'd been describing, but didn't. He was quickly running out of energy and really didn't want to remember that there was a point where these people had been in Snape's circle. If things had gone differently this year, or technically last, Snape would have been part of that conversation. He would have an opinion on taking over the Ministry for whatever purpose Voldemort saw necessary. But things did change; this man was now Harry's pillar to get through this latest challenge and he was holding on tight, afraid if he dared to let go, he may not find his way back.

"Try to sleep, Harry," Snape said softly. "You've really done great this week and Dr Swanson will be here in the morning to start the next round. Just hang on a little longer, you're almost there."

Harry inwardly groaned. He didn't want to repeat this horrendous week. Tomorrow would start with an IT and five hours of the worst combination and as much as he wanted to complain - to scream that he may look like he's handling it well, but he felt like he was dying inside - he held his tongue. The last thing he wanted to add to his current circumstances was to feel like he was letting Snape down.

* * *

**_Monday 3, March 1997_ **

He was sure that this time he was dying. It was either late on Sunday night or in the early hours of Monday when Harry was awoken from a restless sleep by a sharp pain rushing through his body followed by a heavy round of nausea. The further he'd gotten into these latest rounds of chemotherapy, he found the combination of those two side effects - the former being from his magical core and the latter from the chemo - almost unbearable. He was almost there. Today would officially mark the halfway point through his last bad round and if he could just hold on a bit longer he would only be two more moderate rounds away from Maintenance Phase. That's what he'd been telling himself, but this time it did nothing help him.

The young wizard sat up in his bed trying his hardest to breathe through the pain and let the nausea pass. Unfortunately, tonight was a tornado of everything culminating together and he found himself stumbling to get out of bed for the loo, but he ended up doubled over in pain trying to make his way to the lavatory while bringing his stand with his nutrients along with him. With every agonizing second that ticked by and with every shaky step he took, he was sinking further and further into the depths of disparity in his own mind until he found himself - how he ended up here he'd never know - on the cold stone floor of the lavatory. Unable to stand or keep his composure any longer, he laid there at the base of the loo and he cried. The pain was more than he'd ever felt before and he would give anything for a potion to just take it all away, but the sad truth was even if he was comfortable using one, they probably wouldn't be much stronger than the muggle pain medications he was on. The pain from his magical core was so deep nothing would be able to stop it. And in some sadistic twist of the fates, these medications that he was taking to try to ease the pain caused his nausea to become even worse than just from the chemotherapy alone.

Sweat started to bead down his forehead and completely coated his chest - his pyjamas now clung to his body- causing him to violently shiver from the cold. _Only two days left_ , was the mantra he kept telling himself, but he knew he couldn't do it. Each day had only added to his struggle and while he knew Snape would be disappointed in his lack of resolve, from where he lay he would rather die from the cancer then continue for two more days.

_What's the point anyways?_

He was going through all this pain when he would have to die in order to allow Voldemort to be killed. He'd hoped that by now, Snape would have said _something_ about the soul fragment and how he'd save Harry from what he knew had to happen. Maybe at this point, it was better for everyone if they just let nature take its course and both he and Voldemort would succumb to Leukemia. It seemed a fitting end for them both.

The Gryffindor was too lost in his thoughts to understand it was his current circumstances pushing him past his mental limits. He'd tried to be brave and strong for so long this year that he just couldn't do it anymore. Lost in his own misery, he didn't hear the door to the lavatory open and he didn't register Snape kneeling down besides him on the floor. The professor lifted Harry's upper body and rested him against his chest while casting a drying spell on his shirt that warmed his skin almost instantly, but it did nothing for the cold deep within the center of his bones.

"I can't do this anymore," Harry said, completely defeated. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. I just can't..."

The chest he was leaning against inhaled deeply, "It's ok, Harry. We'll get through this."

"No," he said frustrated. "I don't want to. I just can't anymore."

Why didn't Snape understand what he was trying to say? There wouldn't be anything to get through. This was it, he was done; it was just how things went in his life.

_I'm destined to die to kill off Voldemort._

"What did you say?" The panic in Snape's voice couldn't be hidden given the situation they found themselves in at almost three in the morning. "Why would you think you need to die?"

Harry hadn't meant to say his last thought out loud, but it didn't matter because Snape already knew about it. He'd trusted Snape to figure out how to save him, and if the professor couldn't figure it out, then it was hopeless. After all, Snape was the smartest person he knew; even more so than Hermione.

_But she'll get there..._

" 'cause I have his soul next to mine," Harry said without opening his eyes in a rather calm voice given the amount of pain he was feeling and admitting to such a large secret that had been sitting between them for months. "But, you know about that already. It's al'right though, I'm ok with it. I can die to get rid of him."

Time seemed to stand completely still. The young wizard opened his eyes, squinting against the light from the lavatory as it hit his pupils. He'd hoped to find relief in the obsidian ones above him, that maybe the man had found something to save him, but instead he found a panic in them he had never seen before. In those seconds when their eyes met, Harry knew it was, indeed, over and he found himself filled with a peaceful acceptance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Lie


	64. The Lie

~~~~SS~~~

Severus was awoken just before three in the morning by the sphere on his bedside table vibrating and glowing a bright, neon red. It was the brightest alarm he'd seen since the night of the pneumonia causing panic to rise within his chest, taking over where the much needed sleep had previously been occupying. Without thinking of anything besides getting to Harry, he rushed from his own room down the corridor. By now, he could take the extremely short walk - especially at the speed he was currently moving - to Harry's bedroom with his eyes closed, though today he would need his eyes to quickly ascertain what the issue was, and to act accordingly. He knew better than to try to guess what was going on to cause the urgent alarm before he made it to the Gryffindor. Given what he'd been faced with, Harry had to be having a rough couple of days, though he hadn't necessarily acted like it. Instead, the young wizard had been more withdrawn and often was found simply staring at nothing; both of which were now concerning symptoms to the professor.

Severus's heart broke when he entered the bedroom and made his way to the connected lavatory. Harry was laying on the ground, his eyes closed tightly in pain, with sweat gleaning on every inch of his visible skin. He was shivering, from laying on the cold floor while wet from sweating, and though he couldn't see anything from the doorway, the acrid smell of vomit filled the air. The very first thing Severus did given the situation was cast a cleaning spell on Harry's clothing and the floor, quickly followed by a drying spell to help warm the young wizard up.

It didn't surprise him one bit when Harry said he wanted to stop his treatments, they'd gone through this before - several times actually - though it didn't make hearing that statement any easier. He'd simply have to explain again that these were not the type of decisions made when he was feeling as bad as he was; that they would discuss it when he was on the IV of morphine, the medication method that definitely helped the most. It was what Harry said next that filled every inch of his insides with fear.

"I'm destined to die to kill off Voldemort," Harry mumbled while laying across Severus's chest - in an attempt to warm up and prevent him from choking should he vomit again - and he said it with an acceptance that bore down into the professor's core and filled it with fear.

He froze thinking he had to have heard the young wizard incorrectly. But no, Harry repeated the statement, adding in that he knew of Severus's own role with the horcrux situation. How long had Harry known about it? An even bigger question was how had the young wizard even discovered it? But, regardless of how much he wanted those two answers, he couldn't work through those questions right now because Harry was looking up at him completely defeated. He had to be strong and confident - two things he was definitely not feeling at that moment - to work through this unexpected obstacle he'd been thrown.

"Do you think you can get back to your bedroom?" He asked the teen that had gone back to resting his full weight against him. When Severus felt the slow nod of Harry's head, he helped to lift Harry's far too light body from the floor and walk back into his bedroom. He had so many questions to ask the Gryffindor and he simultaneously wanted to lecture him for messing in things far beyond his years. However, that was no way to navigate the delicate balance needed for a conversation like this, so instead he asked, "What do you know about the soul fragment?"

There was a relief that filled Harry's eyes that hadn't been there back in the lavatory. Like the fact that Severus was confirming what he already knew somehow made things easier on the young wizard.

"That I have a piece of _him_ living inside of me," Harry said. "It's what's blocking the rest of my magical core and the only way to get rid of it is by dying."

"But how-"

"I accidentally saw the word Horcrux written in one of your notebooks back in October," the Gryffindor admitted and Severus remembered his misplaced notebook all those months ago. He'd known Harry had somehow gotten into it, but at the time he hadn't considered what the implications of that were, "but it wasn't until... you told me about the block that we… started putting the pieces together."

Harry was struggling to talk through the pain, so Severus summoned the emergency dose of Morphine that Harry was allowed to have for times like this. At some point, they would have to ease his body off the amount of painkillers he was currently on and taking far too often, but he didn't care at this moment. Dr Swanson said he'd know when it was needed, and right now was that time. Of course, the muggle physician had no idea that Severus had watched the other Harry succumb to the same illness; he wasn't unfamiliar with the levels of pain and how to manage them, it was all he could do in that last month of the other Harry's life after all.

"We?" Severus asked, focusing back to the issue at hand now that Harry was on his way to feeling just a little bit better.

"Hermione mostly," Harry explained. "She found it in... a book… about how a horcrux is made, or what it's purpose is."

"There is only one book I could find that had that information and it is currently in my possession."

Harry's face went red, then he sheepishly replied, "It was kind of in our possession for a little while."

He wanted to get angry, the emotion tried to take over, however the teenager laying in the bed in front of him did not need the lecture now. When this was all behind them, he would explain that he had no idea how one _accidentally_ looked into a book that was clearly not his to begin with. It was something he would expect from the Harry of last year; the one who did whatever he wanted because he thought he deserved the knowledge people were keeping - some for good reasons, others not - away from him.

"You're right," he finally validated Harry's suspicion. "You are a Horcrux for a piece of the Dark Lord's soul. It was what I was confirming with the potion last November… his magical signature was present in the black substance you had been vomiting."

Harry's eyes were filled with questions and he started with the most logical, "But if I let the block, the soul piece, die from the chemo, then won't that release the soul fragment from me?"

"Unfortunately no," Severus shook his head gravely, "that would only drain the magic from it, leaving the soul fragment there, but simply magicless."

"So then I have to die, so that _he_ can eventually die."

Just like when Harry had said that statement in the lavatory, the acceptance in the young wizard's voice chilled Severus to the bone. He'd always been honest with Harry, never blatantly lying or attempting to sugar coat anything the teen had been forced to face thus far. Looking over at him now, at his pain filled face, the professor was torn on what to do: did he lie to help the child through another day, or keep his promise to be honest even if it was a truth he wouldn't want to hear - that Severus was working on a solution, but hadn't found it yet?

"No," the former spy said, trying to sound as positive as he didn't feel, "I've found a way to rid it from your body, but it does need to stay in place until your last chemotherapy is completed in order to protect your raw magic beneath it."

Hearing that, the Gryffindor perked up, "Y-you did? You can get it out of me safely?"

"Yes," Severus lied without any hesitation in his voice. "But you need to hold on through this, Harry. I promise you, we will talk about the long term plans with the block and your magic, but this is not the time to go through all of that."

"It's hard," Harry said quietly. He took a deep breath, like he was trying to rebalance himself, "but I trust you."

Those last three words were like daggers to his chest. The lie he'd told would suffice for now, but at some point, the Gryffindor would ask him for the details and he would have nothing to give. Once the plans for Draco's move were in place, it would be the next thing he started focusing on. Severus refused to believe that there wasn't some way to release the fragment from Harry's body. Worse case scenario, if there wasn't a way to do it safely, then he would need to find a way to keep the Dark Lord incapacitated for the rest of Harry's hopefully long life.

_I definitely have my work cut out for me._

* * *

"You look like shite," Draco told him over breakfast the next morning. "No offense."

Severus had been up with Harry until about half past four that morning and the last thing he wanted to do was teach. The previous week was hard enough, which was why he decided to do Capture the Dragon, but no amount of Invigorating Drafts or plain old coffee was going to get him through his morning class.

"I highly doubt you meant no offense by that statement," he retorted back to the teen, "and watch your language, it's gotten far too foul as of late."

The young Slytherin's eyebrows shot up, "We're in for good class this morning, aren't we? Perhaps I should go thank Potter for whatever he did to keep your Highness up all night?"

"Drop it, Draco," he warned. "And you are right, as a matter fact, you will have a good class today because I'm going to cancel it."

It wasn't Draco's crude comment that solidified his decision to completely cancel the class, it was the need to be here when Dr Swanson came by to set up Harry's chemotherapy that morning. After the young wizard's reaction last night, he thought there was a better than normal chance Harry would refuse the treatment and that was something he could not leave Molly here to attend to alone.

The Malfoy heir stared speechless for a second, "Come off it, you practically never cancel class. Send a substitute, absolutely, but never flat out cancel."

"There's a first time for everything," he pinched the bridge of his nose as he replied. "I expect you to be working on some kind of assignment, in your room, during that time."

"Sure thing," Draco responded, "I'll get right on that."

The professor hadn't waited for Albus to agree or disagree when he firecalled him about his class cancellation. It didn't matter what the headmaster thought: he needed to be home today and that was more important than whatever he planned for the lesson in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

When Dr Swanson arrived - Madam Pomfrey took over the Sunday and Tuesday treatments to help break up the travel the muggle doctor had to do - he walked her through what had happened to Harry in the early morning hours.

"It's not surprising," she said over a cup of tea in the sitting room. Harry was still sleeping and that was more important than starting his treatment on time. He needed as much sleep as he could get so he could make it through the next two days. "This is typically the second hardest part of the regimen, only slightly behind the same two weeks in consolidation and that's primarily because there's a better light at the end of this phase."

"Why would he want to quit now? When he's this close to Maintenance?"

She took another sip of her tea before answering, "One would think that Maintenance would be the holy grail of treatment after all he's gone through, but you're forgetting that it's going to be about another three years of treatments for him after this, and from where he's sitting that can be a daunting amount of time.

"So far, each phase has pushed him in some way and to think that there are still _years_ left until he's free of it, without knowing if those treatments will be like all the others he's done-" she paused for what he could only assume was for dramatic effect, "-it's overwhelming to a lot of patients. Don't be surprised, professor, if he's not nearly as excited to start Maintenance as you might expect or hope he will be."

Of course he hadn't really thought about it all like that, which was why she was the muggle oncologist and not him. In his profession, things made sense - add the beetle eyes too fast and the potion would explode because it wasn't given enough time to break down the outer layers before the next one was added or add them too slow and you lose the cumulative effect from them - his formulations didn't need to adjust mentally to the stimuli around them. The doctor though could say everything correctly and still have a different reaction from each patient depending on his or her personal experience.

"Now the pain he's feeling," she continued, placing the small cup of tea on the table in front of her, "that's mostly his magic and I'm afraid it's so intertwined within him that even the highest dosage of medications won't help to alleviate it. I consulted my brother, discreetly of course, and it's a defense mechanism for the magical core… a way for the witch or wizard to know that something serious is going on and to seek help. Apparently the pain of a magical core dying is one of the most painful events a magical person could experience."

That figured, why couldn't anything be easy for Harry?

"He didn't seem to have this extreme of a reaction during the last phase," the professor explained to the doctor, "but given how much of his magic I'm sure has been eaten away during this phase, it would explain the pain level."

Knowing that Harry had a reserve of magic underneath - that they could speak a little more freely about now given the fact that Harry knew about the soul - he found himself hoping that his magic would die off quickly. When that happened, Harry wouldn't have to put up with the horrible pain anymore and yes, they'd need to find alternate arrangements for him in the castle, but if they could find a place for Dudley here, surely they could make it work for Harry.

* * *

**_Friday, 7 March 1997_ **

Severus was thrilled - a word he rarely used, nevertheless it was the best word to describe his current feelings - that they made it past the last two days of the rough treatment round without any major issues, and that the second to last round of Phase Three started tomorrow. Depending on how Harry's blood counts were before his treatment in the morning, the Gryffindor would be cleared to start his student-led tutoring by next Wednesday and hopefully cleared to leave quarantine by Monday the 17th. At that point, the young wizard would have finished his last treatment of Phase Three and all of this would be behind them. Unfortunately, when he was finally cleared to leave quarantine, he would not be going back to his classes. Last Friday, the night of Harry's latest vision, Severus had gone through the details with Minerva and the Board of Governors weren't budging on their decision that Harry not return to the classroom. That was news he was not looking forward to giving only because he didn't want to have his insistence on continuing school thrown back at him, which Harry would have plenty of right to do even though the professor knew ultimately he wouldn't.

As if the week itself hadn't been difficult enough, his normal meeting with Minerva had been replaced by a very limited Order meeting; one where he was actually requested to bring Draco along. The blonde Slytherin was excited, he could tell even through his stoic exterior and the professor hoped this was good news, otherwise it would be a very rough awakening for the teen.

Since Draco hadn't been to Grimmauld Place before, Severus handed him the required parchment so he could actually see the location. Unlike Harry, Draco was used to magic and living in the magical world, so he didn't react with as much exuberance as Harry did over things like this. Instead, the blonde teen read the paper and simply handed it back to Severus for incineration.

"I'm unsure who will be present at tonight's meeting," the former spy lectured, "so it's best to keep your mouth shut as long as possible. If you say a single idiotic thing that makes me look foolish, you _will_ regret it."

The young wizard audibly gulped, a testament to how nervous he was to show a weakness like that in public. Hopefully, Albus had some news that would ultimately keep Draco safe and tonight would be an easy one on them all.

"Who's back with Harry tonight?" Draco asked before they walked in the door. It had been a hard two weeks for the young Slytherin being forced to adhere to the specific hard quarantine rules and navigating Severus's own declining moods, so this question definitely threw him off.

"Lupin," the professor said with a scowl, "And I swear to Merlin he better keep the peace this time or his next few doses of Wolfsbane might conveniently be late."

"I don't care what they say about Wolfsbane, he's still a werewolf and can't be trusted," the Malfoy heir replied, "and then you leave him with The Chosen One? Bad idea if you ask me."

Looking at his protégé out of the corner of his eye, Severus knew exactly what the young wizard was doing; projecting his lack of comfort in the unknown before him into an emotion he was more familiar with. The professor couldn't help thinking that regardless of how far Draco had come this year, he was still a scared sixteen year old and reverted back to his comfortable arrogance when faced with this level of uncertainty.

They were late walking into the meeting, which Severus didn't mind at all as it meant less chance for idle small talk with people who knew nothing about him, nor cared to know anything about him. Draco was a half stride behind when they walked into the drawing room that was not nearly as loud as normal. Upon his approach, the reason became apparent the instant he saw the table. Albus was standing, as usual, at the head of the table and the only others present were Minerva, Molly and Arthur Weasley, and Bill Weasley; all people who would not try to assault Draco - verbally or otherwise.

_This might be an easy meeting after all._

"Welcome, Draco," Albus greeted and gestured for them both to take the two remaining seats at the table. The young Slytherin nodded his head and Severus knew he didn't trust his voice not to betray the anxiety he was feeling inside. "I'm pleased to say we have an update on your future plans."

Relief flooded Severus's body; it was finally here. They had managed to put a plan in place to keep the teenager safe for however long would be needed.

"So where are you shipping me off to?"

Molly's eyes filled with grief as she recognized the true emotion behind the harshly asked question. This was an example of why only the people in this room were chosen to be here. It would be a difficult conversation and having someone like Moody constantly hounding the young wizard would be counterproductive.

"Zanzibar," it was Bill Weasley who spoke up, "it's an island in Tanzania off the coast of Eastern Africa-"

"I know where Zanzibar is," Draco interrupted.

"Getting you as far away from Europe is the best way to keep you safe," Molly added. Severus could see her maternal instincts taking over and she had to resist her urge to physically reach out to the blonde.

"You'll come with Fleur and I under Polyjuice, as a cousin to Fleur," Bill continued. "The plan is to leave straight from Hogwarts on the 22nd, the day everyone leaves for the Easter holiday, using the floo to go to the Burrow, and then a well planned series of apparitions and Port Keys to lead a false trail, before arriving in Zanzibar."

"Has the appropriate muggle identification been arranged?" Albus asked the group at the table.

"They're in progress as we speak and will be ready by the 15th," it was Arthur that spoke up this time. "I'll be delivering them to you myself."

"Perfect," Albus nodded and then turned to Severus, "and the Polyjuice?"

"I have a stock prepared that will work," the former spy reported. He wished they'd given him more notice so he could have made it fresh for an occasion as important as this one. "Simply provide me with the required hair and I will make sure you have enough to get you through a day's travel, plus the first couple of weeks. How long will the Polyjuice be needed?"

"He'll only be spending the first fortnight with Fleur and I, and then Narcissa will arrive, and they'll be moved to a different location on the island," Bill explained. "At that point, the Polyjuice will no longer be necessary."

"Wait a minute," Draco spoke up for the first time since they'd started discussing the plan, "I thought my mother was coming with me?"

"She will be, eventually," Albus responded quickly, "however in order to not have her lead Tom straight to you, she'll be spending the first fortnight in Crete before making her way to you. During those first two weeks, you'll be under the protection of Bill and Fleur."

"And what about my father?"

There was a pregnant pause throughout the room as each adult witch and wizard looked upon each other.

"We hope to have a clearer view of your father's intentions as we get closer to the day of extraction," Albus diplomatically said. "There is every intention to move him along with your mother, however things in the Manor are changing daily and therefore the plan in regards to Lucius's knowledge of it is a little more guarded."

Draco narrowed his eyes as he thought through what that meant. If it were his place to speak, he would say he didn't really understand what was going on either, but the blonde seemed to pick up on it.

"So you're telling me he doesn't know we're going into hiding yet?" He asked incredulously. "But you're going to try to convince him to go with… what after the fact or a couple of days before? And you think that's going to work?"

"I must admit," Albus's blue eyes didn't falter from the criticism, "I was hesitant to trust Narcissa, but it was her recommendation that he know as few of the details up front as possible. You'd be surprised, Draco, what a mother would do to save her child, even if it meant hiding that information from her husband."

Draco shifted in his chair uncomfortably. The professor didn't doubt that he'd never heard such a sentiment said about his mother's love for him. The blonde may have grown up in a house of wealth, but an emotional response like the one he'd been given would not have been something he'd had heard a lot in that household.

The rest of the evening was spent discussing the details of the operation that would be happening in only fifteen days. Minerva and Bill would be responsible for setting up the Fidelius charms on the various locations, both of them alternating acting as the secret keeper for each location, while Arthur would be setting up the illegal Port Keys and arranging Draco's new identity for the muggle authorities. He could tell the young wizard was overwhelmed, much like Harry was each time they discussed a new phase of his treatment, but his pale face remained emotionless.

Later, after they returned back to Hogwarts, he told Draco to meet him in his office so he could see how the teen adjusted to the news as well as he could. First though, he had to stop in and check on Harry.

The Gryffindor's door to his bedroom was slightly ajar as Severus approached it and he could hear Lupin and Harry talking about what sounded like a game of chess. When he'd left earlier this evening, Harry was still feeling the effects from his chemotherapy last Tuesday; most of which was related to the magical core pain. After his conversation with Dr Swanson last Monday, Severus had plans to test Harry's magical levels next week in an attempt to see approximately how much longer he would have to deal with this constant pain. It appeared at least for the time being, the young wizard wasn't in too much distress and was enjoying the time spent with Lupin.

"Ah, Severus," the older Gryffindor called out upon seeing him in the doorway. "Back already?"

It was intended as a nice pleasantry seeing as he'd actually been gone about three hours, far longer than he should have been given the topic they'd discussed tonight.

"Did anything exciting happen here?" Severus asked, ignoring the werewolf's invitation to discuss the meeting.

"Nothing at all," Harry spoke up, though his face told a different story. A quick check of the clock on Harry's desk showed it was almost time for his next dose of pain tablets.

"Let me go get your medicine and set up your nutrients, then I'm needed in my office," he explained for Harry's benefit more than Lupin's.

"I'll stay, if you need me to," the other Gryffindor offered.

Harry's face flushed from embarrassment, "That's alright, Remus, I'm really tired and going to try to sleep. Thanks for coming by tonight though."

Severus saw the dismissal for what it was; Harry didn't want Lupin there while he was setting up the feeding tube. It was something he knew embarrassed the young wizard and therefore he wouldn't push the fact that the two wizards seemed to be having a good time together tonight and that was something Harry desperately needed. Instead, he walked Lupin to the door and then proceeded to set up Harry for the night. Hopefully now that the worst was behind them, his eating would return to normal, but he dared not say that out loud. He would continue to do whatever was necessary to get the young Gryffindor through this and onto bigger and better things. Perhaps a time when they could start thinking about his life _after:_ after chemotherapy, after the cancer was fully gone, after his magic returned - once Severus found a way to remove the soul piece - and after he left Hogwarts and onto his own life, hopefully being able to live without the fear of what tomorrow would bring.

This was destined to be one of those nights where Severus bounced from one teenage issue to the next and once Harry was settled in for the night, with his sphere on the bedside table should he need anything, the former spy walked to his office where he'd left Draco.

His other charge had changed into a set of grey pyjamas and he was sitting in the chair across from his desk reading a book on what looked like Mythology. Before walking in, Severus had taken a minute to gather his thoughts so he could be best prepared for whatever may arise. Severus had never gone into hiding - being held captive in the castle now was as far as he would ever go - but he knew how he would feel in the teen's circumstances and would focus on that to get through the next hour.

"What are your thoughts on the upcoming plans discussed tonight?"

"It's about bloody time," Draco commented in a way that told the professor he was nervous, but trying not to be. "But I can think of plenty of dreadful places to spend an indeterminate amount of time in hiding, and laying on a white sand beach definitely isn't one of them."

"You'll be living in a muggle village," Severus pointed out, unsure if that had been made clear at the meeting, "and therefore while you'll have your wand for emergencies, you will not be able to to use magic."

"Then it's a good thing I don't need magic to swim."

The message he was hearing was crystal clear and they would need to further discuss both the plan itself, what to expect in his years in hiding, as well as his feelings behind it. This would be a difficult fifteen days for all of them as the day of the Easter holiday approached and the professor could already foresee the conflict resulting from Draco's attempt to process emotions he didn't even know existed inside of him.

~~~~HP~~~~

That morning's chemotherapy wasn't nearly as bad as the previous ones, but it still left Harry with the pain - albeit not nearly as extreme - from his Magical core. This was a time he wished Alton was still his healer because the other wizard might have had some better insight over what to expect in that regard which Dr Swanson couldn't even begin to comprehend. His muggle doctor had been overseeing his care for longer than Alton had, however Harry still had a hard time making a connection with her. All she really did was get his medications started and explain the next steps. For any of his specific questions, he asked Snape and the professor would find out for him.

Today's chemotherapy was one hour of the medication he'd been getting regularly - Vincristine - and would continue to get all the way through the end of Maintenance, plus three hours of a new medication; all of which ended about two hours ago. The best part of the day was that Dr Swanson had said that by Wednesday he was allowed to come out of hard quarantine which meant that he'd be allowed to restart his tutoring. He struggled with his feelings on that topic because by missing as much as he already had, the Gryffindor knew he would never be able to catch up; a point that was pretty moot anyway due to his lack of grades in his subjects. No matter his thoughts on the topic at hand, he already knew Snape's opinion and he didn't want to cause any issues about it. So instead, he took advantage of his ability to move around a little and decided to work on his assignments as much as possible in the sitting room.

"Decided to finally emerge from your cave?" Draco called out at him from behind. Harry didn't even lift his head from his Charms assignment at that remark.

"Do you even know how to start a conversation without insulting someone?"

"Touchy this afternoon, aren't we?" the Slytherin said, sitting down in his typical armchair in an exaggerated manner, "I was just going based off all the other Saturdays you've had treatments and usually you can hardly move."

It was true enough that Harry couldn't argue that fact. Today's double medication hadn't hit him too hard yet, so he was taking advantage of the time he had before he inevitably would be back in his bedroom or the loo. Draco, of course, couldn't understand that.

"Want to help me with my Charms essay? It's the one where we have to decide if turning vinegar into wine is a Charm or Transfiguration and explain why."

Since this assignment was given before his two _hell_ _weeks_ and hard quarantine started, the Gryffindor was positive that Draco knew the right answer - having done this assignment and gotten it marked already - and could provide a little more than "casual help".

"Well," Draco feigned indifference, but Harry knew that tone enough from Hermione to know he was about to get a lesson that should help him out, "what do you think it is?"

Harry rolled his eyes. That wasn't much help at all. "I think that since Professor Flitwick assigned it and not Professor McGonagall, then it's a Charm."

"Merlin," the Malfoy heir replied, "it's amazing you, and Weasley for that matter because he said the same thing in class, managed any N.E.W.T.s with that way of thinking. Then why do you think it should be Transfiguration?"

"That's easy," Harry sat up further on the sofa as he felt himself starting to ache from the lying position, "it's changing one thing into another and that's basic Transfiguration."

"But is it _actually changing_ one thing into another?" The blonde turned his head to the side inquisitively in an effort to get Harry to think about the statement he'd just made.

Obviously based on Draco's question and the tone of his voice, Harry had been wrong but he didn't exactly know why. Growing up, he learned quickly to read between the lines of what was said and what wasn't. What Draco didn't say, but implied, was that it was a Charm and not Transfiguration.

"Erm… no?"

The teenager across from him threw his hands up in the air in frustration, "Harry, this is the perfect example of our three major classes working together. It's quite amazing actually. Do you know what vinegar is made from?"

This sounded like they were switching to Potions, which made no sense to the Gryffindor because the question had nothing to do with that class, just Transfiguration… or Charms.

The blank stare on his face must have said all he needed to because Draco shook his head disappointedly and said, "If you don't even know that, there's no way you're going to write a correct essay convincingly enough to make Professor Flitwick believe you actually knew the answer."

"I can always tell him I looked it up in the library?"

"Then I suggest," Snape loudly said from the entryway, "that you start with finding a text on the production of vinegar." Harry's face flushed when the professor walked into the sitting room and prominently sat into his armchair. "Though perhaps Draco's assistance is merely his repayment for listing your defensive strategies on his own _Capture the Dragon_ essay."

It was Draco's turn to flush at the slight reprimanding statement.

"Draco," Snape softened his voice in a way that told Harry he wasn't going to like what was coming up, "can you give Harry and I a moment alone?"

"You could go into your office, you know?" Draco suggested.

It wasn't the smartest reply, but whatever news Snape was about to deliver must have been bad enough that the man didn't seem to care. He simply shook his head and pointed to the younger Slytherin's bedroom without muttering another word. Draco collected some of his papers from the table between the three wizards and made his way back to his room whispering "good luck" to Harry as he passed by the sofa.

"Is everything alright, Severus?" Harry asked once they were alone.

"How are you feeling today?"

_We're back to answering a question with a question…_

_"_ Erm," Harry wasn't sure how to answer, "better than last week, but not as good as the beginning of Phase Three."

"And your pain and nausea?" Snape's eyes were filled with a concern that Harry hadn't noticed had become a constant in them for the past month.

"Pain's about a six or seven," the young wizard said, using the scale Dr Swanson introduced to help gauge how the pain medications were working, "nausea is at about a five… and climbing."

Apparently those levels were satisfactory for the professor to continue with the news he had, "Harry, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"That part was obvious."

Another testament to his level of distraction, Snape merely took a deep breath ignoring the bit of insolence in Harry's reply.

"I'm afraid you won't be returning to classes when Phase Three is completed at the end of the month," Snape carefully said.

"Of course not, it'll be Easter holiday," Harry joked, but he knew what the professor meant. Changing his tone to a more serious one, he added. "I kind of figured that, sir. There's no point to being in class when I'm so far behind."

"You have the right to be though," Snape responded with a hint of anger in his voice that told Harry that Snape and Professor McGonagall probably fought hard for him to be allowed back. "Unfortunately, our appeals have been denied."

"So it's official," Harry sadly said, "I'm not moving on next year."

"You already knew you wouldn't be."

It was a truth that was hard to swallow. Yes, he'd read that most Leukemia patients had to repeat their first chemotherapy year, however almost all of those that he read about didn't go to a special school and ended up losing the defining characteristic of that school; they simply were allowed to restart once they felt more normal sometime during Maintenance. Most of them didn't have to worry about waiting to remove a piece of a dark wizard's soul to hopefully gain back their magic. It would be at least three years until Snape could do whatever that process entailed and he could start back - from square one! - on retraining his magic. Three long years of having no idea what he would be doing in the meantime.

"So what am I going to do while everyone else is in class?" He asked the sensible follow-up question.

"I will find a way to keep you as up to date on your coursework as possible," Snape sat back in his chair giving Harry the impression that he had some ideas that the young wizard probably wouldn't like.

Harry nodded. What else could he really do? He'd been asking - practically begging - to quit his classes, but it felt different being _told_ he couldn't go back. The choice had been ripped from his own hands and that made the situation feel infinitely worse.

"Next week," Snape continued, "once you're recovered from this round of chemotherapy, I'd like to test your magic again."

_Let's add insult to injury here._

"To see how much I've lost." It wasn't a question, they both knew this time his magic was really dying. It was what they wanted, but again it just felt wrong to him to say it. His instincts wanted to fight to keep it, except he chose to fight to stay alive instead; otherwise he would have chosen the potions route all those months ago.

"Ok," the Gryffindor lifted his head a little higher so when he looked back on this defining moment he would be proud of his reaction to the news. "Just let me know when and what to do."

A companionable silence fell over the pair of wizards, and Harry went to start back on his Charms essay before thinking twice and picked up his sketchbook instead. As if understanding that Harry needed some time alone to process the information he'd been told, the professor stood and walked towards his office door.

"Oh, and Harry?" Snape called over his shoulder right before closing his office door, "Vinegar is made from ethanol, which is an alcohol such as wine."

_It's a reverting Charm, so we're_ _not_ _transfiguring it into something new!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Room of Requirement


	65. Room of Requirement

~~~~HP~~~~

**_Wednesday 12, March 1997_ **

" _Lumos!"_ Harry called out, watching and practically pleading, for the tip of his wand to light up. It took a fraction of a second longer than usual, but the tip did change into a soft light.

"That's a good start," Snape replied, so casually that Harry felt he was being patronizing, as he marked something onto the parchment in front of him.

"There was a delay," the young wizard pointed out. "You probably couldn't tell, but there was."

It was now midweek between his last two rounds of chemotherapy for Phase Three and while he was definitely feeling better physically as his blood counts were rising, he woke up that morning feeling off. He was as aggressive, agitated, and fidgety as when he was on the chemotherapy tablets at the beginning of this phase, and he had no clue as to why.

To make matters worse, he was also frustrated over his sour mood because today was the first day he was allowed out of _hard quarantine_ and he wanted to be excited about that fact. Although there really was not much difference because he wouldn't be going back to classes and Snape had come up with the brilliant idea to start a _home schooled_ education for him. The basic theory was that between Snape and McGonagall, they could keep Harry mostly updated on the coursework - Snape taking Potions, Defense, and Herbology, and McGonagall doing Transfiguration and Charms - then, combined with his student-led tutoring, he would be able to pick up the real material faster once the time came to restart. To Harry, it seemed like a moot point, but if his two professors and three classmates were willing to put the time in, he could put in the effort. It wasn't as if he had anything else to work on.

However good that plan was, all of it would start next week, leaving today - and the rest of the week - to go through some revised magical testing with the professor. It was right after lunchtime and Snape had called Harry into his office with the only instruction to bring his wand. Of course the Gryffindor knew what the purpose was, but he didn't expect it to be so formal. When he arrived in the office, Snape was sitting behind his desk with piles of parchment surrounding him and various books opened on his desk. It looked like he was preparing for a dissertation instead of a simple magical test.

"You may think there was a delay because you're expecting it," Snape tried to logically explain, going back to the results from his _lumos_.

"No," Harry argued back, "I said there's a delay because it took longer for the magic to flow then every single other time I've ever cast that spell."

He probably didn't need to have the aggression behind his reasoning, but given the mood he woke up in, he really didn't appreciate the former spy trying to brush off his concern.

"Extinguish it," Snape said while rubbing his eyebrows, having far more patience with Harry than the young wizard knew he deserved.

" _Nox_." That time the delay was more obvious. "Do you want me to say 'I told you so' or is it assumed at this point?"

"Please assume for the rest of this exercise, statements like that are implied," the professor replied curtly.

"Fine by me," Harry was standing in the small office with Snape now leaning against the front of the desk deep in thought about what to do next. "What's next?"

"Let's move onto levitating," he pulled out the same basket of objects that was used back when they were more regularly testing his magic. "You'll go through each object and I'll be notating the results and then I'll compare it to your previous tests from last year."

Harry didn't want to do it, there was something inside of him that wanted to yell at the professor that this wasn't necessary. By simply holding his wand he could tell his magic was dying; the flow wasn't anything like he'd felt before. It lacked the excitement he'd stopped paying attention to sometime early on in his magical education. Now that it was missing, he recognized what he'd taken for granted before. Even though he didn't want to finish the exercises, the young wizard obediently followed the instructions because he didn't want to cause a row so early on in the week. As expected, each test was more miserable than the last: he was able to hold the levitating objects for roughly half the time he had previously and the heavier objects - like the chair - he could only lift about 20 centimeters off the floor. Summoning seemed to go well overall for the smaller objects, but when he attempted to summon Snape's large _Encyclopedia of Potion's Ingredients Around the World_ the smaller _Handbook of Most Common Potion's Ingredients_ was summoned instead; as if his magic was telling him that since it couldn't do what he requested, it picked the next closest thing. He was only allowed to try one Transfiguration that afternoon and it was changing a teacup to a quill. Had the Gryffindor been in a better state of mind, he would have laughed at the fact that Snape chose the exact same combination that Draco transfigured during their Transfiguration Roulette game, nevertheless he was too far down in his negative thoughts to make that parallel. The fact that the only part that he managed to transfigure was some feathers onto the cup did nothing to help his mood.

"Are we done?" Harry demanded. "I'm pretty sure you can tell I'm probably at the level of a first year now!"

Uncharacteristically, Snape worried his bottom lip as he reviewed his notes, "I'd say more like a second year, but I do hear your point."

Suddenly, Harry's head started pounding like a line drum coming from the inside out that was so loud to him he was surprised the professor couldn't hear it blaring out of his ears. He could tell that Snape was talking to him, but couldn't hear it above the pounding of his head. And as quickly as the pounding started it stopped.

"What happened?" Snape asked. The former spy had moved so he was now kneeling in front of Harry who had unknowingly fallen to his knees on the floor.

"I don't know," Harry answered, still holding his head. "It was like a drum in my head-" again he felt the drumming return, but this time instead of hearing it through his ears, he heard himself start to laugh uncontrollably. A sense of elation poured through him and he knew what was happening even before he felt the burning through his scar. "-No!"

He tried to pull up his Occlumency forest and was proud of himself for getting the shaky scene lifted; the blue sky and the trees below him, but it shattered only a second later by a black plume of smoke.

"Harry!" He heard Snape's scared baritone voice breaking through the smoke. The young wizard focused on the sound of that voice hoping it would lead him out of the darkness and back into his forest. If only he could get back to his forest, maybe he could hide himself there and Voldemort couldn't get to him. He'd simply stay there, hidden, for however long he needed to. It was a futile effort though because the evil wizard had been using his mind magic so regularly - as a way to relive the horrors his Death Eaters had done when he could not go on the muggle raids - that he could break through more barriers than ever before. Harry's mind had no chance of defending itself against that.

_The first thing that Harry noticed was different with this vision was that he didn't know where he was because it didn't look anything like Malfoy Manor - the last known Headquarters of Voldemort - where he expected to be. Instead, he was in a darkly lit room with red wall coverings that gave the room the eerie feeling of blood seeping out from them. On the far end was a fireplace with a roaring fire and a large plush armchair sat to the left side that was currently occupied. It was here that the second difference Harry noticed: the person sitting in the armchair was just as snake-like as Harry last remembered seeing him at the Department of Mysteries. Though he looked far healthier than even the night in the graveyard, there was no denying that it was Voldemort sitting in the chair in front of the fire. In all of his other visions, besides the memory of Draco's initiation - he saw through Voldemort's eyes, not as an outside viewer._

_This is a memory, not a vision, Harry realized._

Back in the Hogwarts dungeon, Harry laid on the floor writhing in pain, though no sound came out of his open mouth. Snape stood over the Gryffindor casting diagnostic charms, already knowing that there wasn't anything he could do to stop the inevitable.

_"My Lord," a voice from the doorway caused Harry to turn and he audibly gasped. Standing in front of him was Snape, though he was much younger looking - in his early twenties if Harry had to guess - much closer to the Snape in the pictures of his mum than the Snape who he knew now. The dark-haired wizard wasn't in his Death Eater robes, nor did he have his mask sending chills down Harry's spine to think that this man, the one he'd been living with and depending on, must have voluntarily walked into where Voldemort was now living. He sought out his "master" without being prompted, without being forced, just because he wanted to see the evil wizard._

_"Come in, Severus," Voldemort called, beckoning in of his newer recruits. "I'm told you have something of grave importance to relay to me? And that you… refused… to tell anyone else?"_

_"You are correct, my Lord," the sound of that voice, so unlike the one Harry was used to hearing, sent fear deep into his bones. This voice was so much closer to the old Snape that Harry questioned how he didn't recognize that the professor had changed back in July. The Snape he was so used to now never sounded this menacing or… evil. Snape approached the chair where Voldemort sat and kneeled down to give the customary kiss to the hem of his robes, an act that made Harry's stomach churn. "I come with important information you may find most useful."_

_He needed to get out of here, but no matter how hard he tried, the vision - no, memory - wouldn't let go of him. It didn't matter to him that Snape used to be a Death Eater, he knew that fact and seeing it in front of him wouldn't change anything. He was a spy, or at least he became one, and to the Gryffindor that was all that mattered; at least he thought that was all that mattered. Harry could feel Voldemort's impatience as he waited for the dark-haired wizard to start explaining whatever it was he was so anxious to tell._

_"I was at the Hogs Head tonight where Albus Dumbledore was having the most peculiar interview with a potential Seer, likely to hire for divinations, and I believe I overheard an intriguing prophecy," Snape didn't stand from his kneeling position, but instead spoke this statement to the floor in front of the armchair. Similarly, Harry stood frozen in place, struggling to breathe as he thought about the words he'd just heard from the man he thought of - sometimes wished he was - as a father._

**_No… it can't… he couldn't…_ **

_An evil, sardonic laugh echoed through the dark room._

_"Stand, Severus," Voldemort demanded. "Tell me what this so-called prophecy has said about me."_

_Snape instantly stood, perfectly straight with his hands clasped behind his back. It was a submissive stance that the Gryffindor would never expect to see in his normally stoic professor. It was he that usually demanded that of his students and would never be the one to appear so vulnerable._

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches," Snape's voice was calm and steady as he repeated the words that had been haunting Harry since he first heard them in Dumbledore's office less than a year ago, but their implications had caused him so much more pain far earlier than that. "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies."_

Back in Snape's office, Harry didn't notice the tears that started falling from his eyes or that no matter how much the real Snape tried to wake him up, he was locked into a memory that would alter the path they were on forever.

_At this point, Voldemort stood to stand face to face with the young Death Eater who had just reported to him the single piece of information that would intertwine his evil life with Harry's. Snape stoically stood, without even a flinch, as the dark wizard came within ten centimeters to his face. He was standing so close to the younger Snape, Harry was sure his hot breath could be felt across his pale cheeks._

_"You understand that I must verify this information for myself?" He hissed out to his follower._

_"Yes, my Lord." Again, Snape didn't move a muscle as Voldemort silently cast the Legilimency spell to enter Snape's mind and verify what he'd just heard. With each passing second, Harry was becoming more and more numb as he thought about the moment he was watching before his eyes. "So, you speak the truth."_

_"Of course, my Lord," Snape stood taller, showing off his pride from bringing such an important discovery to his Master's attention. "I came right to you after being removed from the premises."_

_"Crucio!" The Death Eater fell to the ground in pain, but Harry couldn't find any sympathy in himself - though knowing personally how it felt to be subjected to that curse - for the man who had essentially placed the target on his back. When the curse was eventually lifted, Voldemort spat at the young wizard on the floor, "That was for getting yourself caught before hearing the rest of it! Now get out of here!"_

_The black cloud took over again as the scene dissolved and reappeared._

_Now he was standing in a brightly lit grey room with tall ceilings and a large ornate table in the middle. It was so different from the previous room, Harry became disoriented by the sudden change. This time, he could clearly see Voldemort - not too different from the way he was in the previous memory - sitting at the head of the table with Snape pacing the room on the right side. He didn't appear much older than the last memory, but his eyes were filled with the horrors he'd seen in the time that had passed and he appeared to be deeply concerned for whatever had been said before the memory started. He was dressed in all black that appeared to be Death Eater attire and held his mask in his left hand slowly tapping it against his leg as he paced._

_"I've told you, it could equally be the Longbottom boy," the young Death Eater pleaded, "he was also born at the end of July."_

_"Ah, Severus," Voldemort almost laughed as he said the other wizard's name. "The prophecy said 'born as the seventh month dies' and I'm afraid young Harry Potter matches that statement, born literally in the final hour of July."_

_Harry gulped as he recognized what was going on before him. This was when Voldemort decided it would be him and his family they went after. While the Gryffindor wouldn't wish his fate on anyone else, he found himself hoping that this conversation went differently; that Voldemort would have targeted the Longbottoms instead. He could feel the bile threatening to creep up the back of his throat at what that would have meant: Neville might have been the Boy-Who-Lived._

_"The Longbottoms are a prominent Pureblood line, meaning Neville is the more likely opponent to your greatness," Snape argued. "Compared to the half-blood Harry Potter, I don't see how the hour of his birth could be a priority over blood lines."_

_"That's what makes prophesies so interesting, Severus," the evil wizard continued, "we do not know what causes one to become fate."_

_A silence enveloped the room, only disturbed by Snape's footsteps as he continued to pace. Harry knew he couldn't be seen or heard in a memory, but his heart was beating so hard against his chest, he thought there was no way they couldn't hear it. With each step of Snape's foot, echoing over the crackling of the fire that Harry just noticed, the Gryffindor's blood boiled hotter and he became angrier with the professor._

_"I have heard a rumour, Severus," Voldemort broke the silence with this odd statement. "You were in love with Lily Potter in your Hogwarts days."_

_It was not asked as a question and therefore it didn't surprise Harry when the younger Snape didn't answer. Harry knew it was true, he'd felt it in the memory he'd seen before Christmas._

_"Please," Snape replied when he stopped pacing, having decided how he was going to handle the situation in front of him, "spare her life. It is not the mother you are needing."_

_A sinister smile came across Voldemort's face that made Harry shiver, "and the boy?"_

_"The boy you can have, his father too," Snape responded, his voice laced with pain, "kill them both, but please spare her life."_

_Without even knowing what he was doing, Harry ran at the young Death Eater standing before him. He reached for his wand desperate to hurt him, in any way he could, for betraying the woman he supposedly loved. This was the man - not a man, a coward - responsible for the single event that forever altered Harry's life; that put him directly into Voldemort's line of fire and responsible for him ending up living in a cupboard under the stairs being abused by the people who should have been caring for him. But before he could reach Snape the Death Eater, the scene shifted and it started to dissolve away until only a white light surrounded him and the vile sound of Voldemort's voice could be heard surrounding him:_

_"As you wish, Severus. I shall leave young Lily Potter as repayment for what you've done for me."_

Harry sat up so quickly, he immediately went light headed as he looked around the small office and then turned to his left and vomited; hoping he would expel the images he'd just seen and the knowledge he'd just learned. His face was covered with blood from his scar having burst open, and it was then that he realized who was kneeling so close to him - holding a wet bandage to his forehead - and whispering to him, "it's alright, you are safe at home."

When Harry's terrified emerald eyes met Snape's onyx ones, the panic and anger he felt in the memories came flooding back into his veins. Without thinking, simply reacting to his instincts, he pushed the professor as hard as he could, which in his weakened, ill state was not even enough to shift the man's weight.

"Get away from me," Harry yelled into the former Death Eater's face. He reached over to his right, close to where Snape was kneeling, and grabbed his wand, immediately brandishing it at the other wizard's chest. "Get the bloody hell away from me!"

Snape's face didn't even try to hide his confusion about what had just occurred as he frantically tried to figure out what could have happened to cause Harry to pull his wand onto him. Understanding how delicate Harry's emotions were, even before the vision hit, he raised his hands to show he meant no harm, then fell back onto his bottom, and uncharacteristically scooted further from the young wizard until his back was sitting flush against his desk.

"Harry," Snape said quietly, "what did you see?"

The young wizard's eyes were shifting back and forth across the room as he put together the pieces of what he saw and what he had already known. It was possible the memory was fake, but he knew that Snape switched sides because _someone_ \- his mother he'd already deduced - had been threatened by Voldemort. But was Snape the one that caused that to happen?

"You got her killed," Harry breathlessly said, without thinking, "and… me? You didn't care at all… you said… you said… he could..."

He couldn't catch his breath, and once the man that Harry had come to depend on the most in his life figured out what he was talking about, Harry knew it wasn't a fake memory. He could see the truth in his eyes Harry had truly seen what had happened all those years ago, and Snape was actually the one responsible for all the death and destruction in his life.

"It's not what-"

"Not what? " Harry interrupted, jumping to his feet with his wand still pointed at his professor. They'd already determined that Harry's magical level wasn't as strong as it had been, so the professor could have easily taken him down - both magically and physically - but chose not to react. "You told him about the prophecy! You sent him directly to us! And then you didn't even care if he killed me or my dad! Go ahead, deny it, tell me it isn't true."

The last sentence was said as a challenge, to give Severus the chance to tell Harry that it had been a false memory, that Voldemort was once again baiting him for reasons completely unknown. But the silence that followed his demand spoke volumes and neither wizard moved as Harry gasped for breath, trying to decide what his next move would be. He couldn't stay there, not when this was not only the person responsible, but had also lied to Harry about it. It went far beyond learning that Snape almost hit him in the other reality, this was not only in the here and now, it was real; _this_ Snape actually did this to him.

"I can't do this anymore," Harry whispered, but the sharp inhale from the other wizard showed he'd heard and understood the meaning behind it. Raising his head to give one last stare into Snape's eyes, he desperately tried to find some sort of feeling in himself besides betrayal and when nothing else was there, he confidently said, "I'm leaving."

The professor didn't move from his spot on the floor against his desk when the young wizard left in a hurry, slamming the office door behind him. He still didn't move when he heard the door to their quarters open and slam closed; he simply sat there questioning how everything could have gone so wrong, so quickly.

* * *

Harry didn't know where he was going to go when he left the dungeon quarters. At first, he thought he could go to McGonagall's quarters since she was his guardian and said he was welcome there if he ever needed a place to stay, but he didn't even know what time it was and if she was in class, plus he really didn't want to have to explain what had happened with Snape. No, he needed somewhere he could go to think, to process the complex set of thoughts racing through his mind.

"- doing out here?"

The Gryffindor was so lost in his own mind, he didn't hear the person calling out for him until the other wizard was upon him. Of course, it was Draco heading back to their quarters after the end of classes.

"Didn't you hear me?" The Slytherin asked, sounding almost insulted that Harry hadn't noticed him, "Aren't you still supposed to stay home for another week or something?"

 _Home._ Harry didn't have a home anymore; Privet Drive was never really his home and now the place in Hogwarts that felt more like a home to him than anywhere else was built on a web of lies.

"Are you ok?" Draco asked. Where his previous fake annoyance was, now held an actual concern for the Gryffindor. "You don't look alright."

The idea popped into his head so fast, he didn't really have time to think too much about it. He grabbed Draco's right wrist - luckily preventing the other wizard from drawing his wand - and said, "Come with me."

Whether the Slytherin was actually curious about what Harry had in mind or simply felt guilty pulling himself away from the clearly weaker wizard, he allowed himself to be pulled through the corridors. They both ignored the odd stares they received from the passing students until they ended up in the left corridor on the seventh floor. Harry closed his eyes and walked in front of the blank wall three times asking for a place he could hide away and burn off some of his aggression. When the doorway appeared, Draco gave a wary look before pushing it open.

The Room of Requirement didn't look much different from the times he was here for the D.A. meetings, which made sense given the fact that dueling was probably the best release he could ask for right now. The floors were covered in a thick padding, perfect to prevent too much bruising because even he could admit that this was most likely a horrible idea. In addition to the extra padding, there were objects placed around the room that could be used as an extra block or places to hide such as fake boulders, trees, and even a little shed that sat in the far left corner of the room, and a set of canoes on the other side. It was exactly what Harry didn't even realize he'd been hoping for.

"Do you have your wand?" The Gryffindor asked Draco, finally releasing his pale wrist from his clutches.

"What kind of daft question is that?" Was the reply and it made Harry smile. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Probably not," Harry drew his wand as a way of signaling that if the other wizard didn't act, he was probably going to end up with a stinging hex headed straight towards his chest. Still unsure, Draco removed his robe and his tie and followed the other wizard to the dueling floor. "Don't forget I can use my magic again, so don't feel the need to go light on me."

It was technically a lie because his opponent wouldn't know how horrible his magical testing went this afternoon, but Harry didn't care. If Draco got in trouble for it later, he would simply have to tell McGonagall or Dumbledore that it was his idea, and then admit that it wasn't necessarily one of his brightest ideas, but when was he known for bright ideas; that was left for Hermione.

"You wish, Potter" Draco replied, narrowing his eyes at his opponent.

The first offensive attack belonged to Harry with a stunning spell that Draco easily blocked, but it came with so much ferocity behind it that Draco shot back with a locking leg jinx without even thinking. Harry's protective spells were mediocre at best, so to compensate he went back to his old tried and true method of defense from his primary school days with running and hiding. The best part of all was that as he was running this way and that way, he found himself running away from not only his blonde opponent, but everything he'd learned about the man he'd come to love as a father over the last nine months.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus had no clue how long he sat alone on the floor of his office, with his head resting on his arms that were draped across his drawn up knees. Yet again he had no one to blame but himself for getting into this situation. The conversation likely wouldn't have ended any differently had he been the one to broach the subject, but having the Dark Lord assault the young wizard was the worst possible way for the information to be revealed. There would never be a way Harry could ever forgive him now, as he eventually did after revealing the truth in his old reality. He needed to move, to let Minerva know what had happened, and to help get Harry settled with her. The young wizard had his last treatment of Phase Three on Saturday and he had no doubt in his mind that Harry would need to do it there, with her. Perhaps while she went to check on him, Severus would sanitize her quarters and leave her notes about the spell he created as well as all of Harry's tablet medications.

The professor knew it was a vision the moment Harry fell to the ground and that was before his scar had started profusely bleeding. When it hit the four minute mark with no sign of slowing down, he had summoned a blood replenishing potion from his laboratory and spelled it directly into Harry's stomach. It wouldn't help his platelet count to slow the bleeding because it would simply use Harry's current blood as the base to replenish, but it would make sure the volume of his blood didn't plummet should this continue. And continue it did. Harry was on the floor writhing in what looked like extreme pain for another ten anxiety inducing minutes without any indication if this was a current vision of what the Dark Lord was doing - in which case he was surprised his Dark Mark hadn't burned - or if it was something the dark wizard was doing just to torture the young wizard, like Draco's initiation. Never did he consider that his former master would think to go far enough back to show Harry the prophecy. He was now starting to question how much the Dark Lord knew of his relationship with Harry. It was obviously enough to warrant using his energy to show that very pointed memory, that was targeted to break - or shatter - the trust they had built and deny Harry the one thing he'd never been able to have: a family. Again, he had no one else to blame but himself for that too, he was the reason Harry would never have a family.

Still uninclined to move, his body numb from the position he was sitting in as well as from the shock of his flooded emotions, a piece of parchment popped up in front of his face. Harry was obviously keyed into the wards, yet he still found himself illogically hoping that the name on the other side was the Gryffindor's. He was half-right in that it was a Gryffindor: the name _Hermione Granger_ was printed in the neat script staring back at him. Without thinking twice, he incinerated the parchment and settled back against the desk. She would eventually go away, either that or Draco would be back soon after his last class and he really didn't care what happened between them right now.

He had zero concept of time sitting there on the floor and had it not been for the fourth piece of parchment to show up with Hermione's name on it, he wouldn't have cared. For whatever reason though, the young witch did not seem to want to go away until someone answered his blasted door. Now fueled with anger on top of the layer of grief that was already there, he lifted himself from the floor, ignoring his protesting bones that reminded him that somehow this 37 year old body was far more worn than in his old reality. The sitting room was completely dark, telling him that it had been at least a couple of hours since the vision - or memory - was sent from the Dark Lord that completely upended his life as he knew it. A wave of his hand lit the lanterns bringing in a warmth of light that negated how he was feeling inside. A quick look at the clock showed it was ten to seven o'clock; he'd been on his office floor for over two hours.

_It's no wonder my body is aching so much._

"What do you want?" He sharply asked after swinging the door open so fast the teenage girl on the other side jumped about a half a meter in the air. As expected, it was Hermione and she shifted her weight uncomfortably when he raised a single eyebrow at her. "What. Do. You. Want?"

"Um…" it was unlike Hermione to be so flustered for words. "I was… supposed to meet Draco after classes, but he didn't show up."

She stopped as if that statement meant something to him. Not really in the mood to ease her discomfort, he crossed his arms across his chest and waited until she continued.

"He was…" she tried to look around his body blocking the view into the room behind him, "coming down here to grab a book for me, but like I said he never showed up. I wondered if he was here, but I'm guessing by your look, he's not."

As much as he wanted to step back inside the entrance way and close the door in her face, if Draco never made it back here or to meet with her - which he was not supposed to be doing to begin with - that was cause for alarm. His bedroom door had been uncharacteristically left opened as the professor walked to answer the Gryffindor witch's constant calling, but he'd been so lost in his thoughts, he didn't think twice about it. The last time Severus had seen his Slytherin charge was in their morning defense class as he took his lunch in his office this afternoon to prepare for Harry's magical testing and the blonde did not mention anything about staying out later after classes or missing dinner. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he stepped aside and gestured for Draco's girlfriend, and one of Harry's best friends, to come in.

"Is Harry in his bedroom?" She asked heading towards the corridor, "he may know what time Draco left."

"He's not here," Severus replied, feeling his fear layer on top of the anger and the grief, "we had an issue at one of our lessons this afternoon and he needed some space."

"But sir, he's not supposed to-"

"I am well aware of that, Miss Granger," he said curtly through his clenched teeth. "Let me get in touch with Minerva and see if she's seen either boy."

He would have expected Harry to run straight to his friends and cousin, and if that didn't happen, where was he? There had to be a logical explanation - besides the one he currently had playing in the back in his mind - for why neither student was accounted for. A quick firecall to Minerva yielded no results outside of an equally worried "I'll check the tower." That wouldn't account for why Draco was currently missing though. It was the combination that had him the most frantic.

"She's going to the tower to look for Harry," he said, "and I should go check the Slytherin dormitories for Draco. Can you stay here should either of them show up while I'm gone?"

"Of course, sir," she said, pacing the sitting room and biting at her left thumbnail. Stress and worry caused people to do a wide range of things they normally wouldn't do and biting nails was apparently Hermione's.

Not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he was looking for a missing Draco to a set of Death Eater's children, the professor went to grab his teaching robes to throw over his more casual clothing. He walked into his bedroom taking strides that were easily double the speed of his normally fast gait, but stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes scanned the room as he always did when entering - to ensure nothing was out of order - and stopped at the blank white photograph on his bedside table.

_The Marauder's Map!_

He turned and ran down the hallway to the sitting room where the young witch was still pacing. "Where does Harry keep his map?"

Her face immediately flushed, "I don't know what-"

"I already know about the map from your third year," he frustratingly said, hating that she was wasting time. "Where does he keep it?!"

"Um… in his trunk."

He didn't wait for her to move before he took off for Harry's room and used his wand to preemptively open the young wizard's trunk. It took more digging than he expected, but he found the map laying beside the invisibility cloak which had caused him too many problems throughout the years in both realities and yet he hadn't seen it once until this moment this year. It was a testament to how comfortable Harry felt - or had felt - living with him.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he said to the old stack of parchment with his ebony wand pointed at it. Hermione looked over to him with shock in her brown eyes that he knew how to operate it. "It's a long story."

When the map finally revealed all the locations on the school grounds with hundreds of shuffling dots going every which way, they both frantically looked in all the logical places first: the tower, Slytherin dorms, library, Hagrid's hut, Great Hall, astronomy tower, and even the owlery and boat house. Neither Draco nor Harry were anywhere on the map. Which was how he came to the conclusion, in his heightened state of anxiety, that they were no longer on the school grounds.

_Where would they go?_

He tried to rack his brain thinking of any places they would be that didn't include Malfoy Manor; either voluntarily or forcefully. Unfortunately, outside of Hogsmeade, for who knew what reason, he couldn't think of any other logical place for them to go.

"If Professor McGonagall should arrive before my return," he told Hermione as he exchanged his teaching robe for his traveling cloak, "let her know I've gone to Hogsmeade to see if they're at the Three Broomsticks or if anyone has seen them there. I doubt two Hogwarts students in the middle of the week would go unnoticed."

"Definitely not, Professor," she agreed, "I'll let Professor McGonagall know. Shall I ask her to stay here?"

"Yes," he responded, "since we know they're not on the school grounds, it won't do any good having her wandering around looking for them."

The young witch nodded and he stormed out the door to take the familiar walk to Hogsmeade. There were times during the previous school years where he'd taken a night to enjoy some quiet - or more accurately loud - company down in Hogsmeade to clear his mind, but he'd not had the time this year thus far. Aberforth would question where he'd been and would hopefully be able to assist him in finding his two charges. Walking out of the castle, at a pace that would rival any Zuowu, he kept a keen eye and ear out at all the students he passed in case James's map was wrong and it somehow missed Harry's presence. Deep down, he knew it would be futile; that the map was accurate and if they weren't in Hogsmeade he would need to go to Malfoy Manor next. That thought caused him to pause momentarily; he would need a plan first and one that got the Order involved, he couldn't just waltz up to the gates and expect to extract the two sixteen year old's.

The walk was plagued by his interchanging emotions - anger to fear, fear to grief, and back around again - that he was completely lost in his thoughts questioning if he should have sent Minerva in his place. There was no way Harry would want to go back to the castle with him, nevertheless at that point he was already approaching Hogsmeade, evident by the everlasting snow that blanketed the small village starting on the pathway after the train station before the Three Broomsticks. It was now nearing half past eight and most of the normally bustling village was shutting down for the night, their windows either illuminated by soft, darkened lanterns that stayed on all night giving the shops the sense that someone lived among the clothing, Quidditch gear, or rows of books instead of the flats above. Others were completely dark to indicate to any passerby that the establishment was closed for business at that time. There were only a select few businesses with bright - or as bright as full lanterns and candles could be - lights steaming out of their windows showing that they were still open for business at this time on a Wednesday night: The Three Broomsticks, the owl post, and the Apothecary. He knew from experience that the Hogs Head was also open, though no light would come from under its door.

Always one to be prepared, his wand was drawn as he approached his first destination: The Three Broomsticks. Loud boisterous talking was flooded out from the inside, not overly odd for mid-week as many professors used Wednesday night as a break from the stress of the start of the week, and simultaneously an early celebration as they approached the end of the week. It took until his third year teaching to be first invited on one of these outings, which he rejected of course, and continued to be invited until his fifth year when his colleagues finally knew he would never attend. In addition to the professors from the castle celebrating their survival to midweek that would make the trek back in some level of inebriation, there was also a small number of professors that lived in the village with their family and would return in the morning. In his old reality, he'd considered the permanent move from Cokesworth to Hogsmeade with Harry, however as a Head of House, he was required to live on the premises and what a better place to be able to keep a close eye on his son then living in the same boarding school. That small memory brought a pang of guilt and grief to his chest as he approached the doorway.

It was a combination of his focused thoughts on what was happening inside of the bustling pub, combined with a well placed silencing charm on the boot of the wizard approaching that when the nonverbal _Petrificus Totalus_ was cast upon him from behind, he didn't stand a chance to even lift his wand. He fell face forward, his body completely unresponsive to his demand to at least catch himself before falling into the cold snow. Luckily, or not, his assailant didn't leave him in that position to freeze and likely suffocate. A solid boot met his right rib cage with a _crack_ before proceeding to turn him over onto his back. Staring down at him, the light from the window no more than three meters away making his pale face appear almost translucent and his long platinum blonde hair framing his long pointed face like a misplaced halo, was none other than Lucius Malfoy.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the Malfoy Patriarch taunted, "I would have expected better from you, Severus. You try to be so careful, and yet here we are. Though to be honest, we fully expected it to be Potter that left first. It's a shame really, the boy will have to wait for another day, because I have what I came here for."

Giving the frozen professor one more kick to his side, jostling his already fractured rib, the blonde Death Eater kneeled over and placed a gloved hand on his shoulder. Severus couldn't move, of course, so he did the best he could to mentally prepare himself for possibly one of the most painful disapparations of his life, having no idea what was in store for him on the other side.

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry was laying flat on his back staring up at the ceiling of the Room of Requirement, tucked out of the way behind the small shed, having just taken a tripping jinx that he was too slow to out run. Given his weaker spells, he had decided early on that using other defensive strategies - like the running, ducking, and hiding - was a better option and then to use what little magic he could muster on offensive spells against Draco. He had no idea how long they'd been there, but he was exhausted, sweating, and now ready to end the duel. Inevitably, though in hindsight he probably should have thought about this, his feeding tube had come loose from its tapped place on his cheek sometime in the middle of their game and was pulled out. It wasn't the first time in his two months of having it, but he would now have to go see Madam Pomfrey to get it replaced because while Snape could do it himself, McGonagall could not and he had zero intention of going back to the dungeons; definitely not tonight and possibly not ever.

"You alright, Harry?" Draco asked, peering carefully around the edge of the shed just in case Harry had been prepared to shoot off another hex, which he wasn't. Determining that their duel was officially over, Draco reached his hand down and helped the Gryffindor into a sitting position.

"Yeah," Harry reassured himself as much as the blonde across from him, "I think the room kept placing cushioning charms wherever I fell. I'm hardly injured at all."

"You mean besides..." Draco awkwardly pointed to his own nose. When the feeding tube was pulled out, no amount of Harry's reassurance that it happened plenty of times before and while it was extremely uncomfortable when it happened he would ultimately be alright, eased the Slytherin's mind. After that, Harry noticed his opponent's spells were roughly half of their previous strength.

"It's really fine," Harry reassured the other teen, "Madam Pomfrey can put a new one in, she has all the supplies just in case."

"Look at you," the Slytherin jested, "making our poor healer have to learn all sorts of new tricks."

"I like to think that she's probably happy to have something a little more challenging than passing out Pepper Up potions all winter."

"After all the time I spent there, you're probably right," Draco nodded his head in agreement. There was a heavy pause between them before Draco sat down across from Harry, his knees bent casually, and asked, "So what happened to trigger this impromptu duel? You're not really supposed to be dueling, or out of our quarters, so I'm guessing something had to have happened."

"I'm not going back there," Harry surprised himself saying out loud. "I can't explain it all… not now, possibly not ever, but it was bad."

"Between you and Severus?"

Unable to find his voice, Harry didn't respond. There was no way he could tell anyone, let alone Draco, what he'd seen in the vision. For all he knew, the Malfoy heir had already known about it. His father was a prominent Death Eater at that time, so it was possible - probable even - that all the Death Eaters knew what their fellow comrade did for their cause and Draco may have grown up hearing all about it; just like how the other teen knew about Sirius before Harry did. Eventually, he would need to tell Hermione, Ron, and probably Dudley because if not he would practically explode inside from the stress of it coursing through his mind. It just wasn't the right time yet, he hadn't been able to unravel his own feelings about it all, in his own mind space, and he had to do that before he started getting anyone else's opinion on it all.

The very first thing he had to do though, was make a visit to the hospital wing. No matter how much he hated going there, he knew it was what was best for him right now. Madam Pomfrey should also probably check him out, even if he was sure the Room had provided more than ample comfort to keep him safe.

"Yeah, between me and Snape," Harry sadly said, standing to signify that he was done with the conversation. "I'm going to head to the hospital wing and get this taken care of and then find Professor McGonagall."

"Do you want me to tell Severus where you are?" the blonde mirrored Harry's movements walking slowly to the exit.

"I really don't care what you tell him," the Gryffindor called over his shoulder, but stopped in his tracks when he heard Draco gasp in pain directly behind him. When he turned, his eyes went wide as Draco was clinging to the bracelet that Harry had noticed him wearing, assuming it was a gift from Hermione. "What's wrong?"

Draco fell to the ground still holding onto the piece of jewelry and gritting his teeth in pain, "It's… burning…"

Harry raced over to do what, he wasn't sure. "Is it a summons?" He suggested. "Didn't Hermione give that to you?"

"Not exactly," the Slytherin managed to say. "I've got to go. If you see Severus, let him know I went to the apparition point to see if that will stop the burning."

Harry nodded, but knew that he wouldn't see Snape. Instead, he'd ask McGonagall to tell him because Draco shouldn't be penalized due to his own issues with the defense professor.

The walk to the hospital wing was intentionally slow and the Gryffindor didn't care one bit. He knew once he got there, Madam Pomfrey would ask why he didn't go to Snape for help and he'd have to lie to her. Once he stepped foot into the infirmary, he would no longer be able to hide that nothing happened and he was trying to delay that inevitability as much as possible.

"Mr Potter!" Madam Pomfrey predictably huffed at him when he opened the large doors and entered. "What are you doing up here?"

"Erm," he'd been so focused on what had happened in his vision he didn't think about how to explain his presence to begin with, "I was released from hard quarantine this morning and Draco and I were… practicing Defense when my tube pulled out."

The matron shuffled herself across the room and gestured to one of the beds on his left - the one he was in when he had pneumonia - and Harry sat down patiently waiting. The medi-witch went into her office and returned much faster than Harry was prepared for.

"I know, that you know," she started with a pointed look, "that Severus can do this for you. So I'm guessing you don't want _him to know_ how it came out, and a general diagnostic spell should be done just in case?"

That was one of the things he liked about Madam Pomfrey, she had this uncanny ability to understand when a certain amount of confidentiality was required and she would keep that trust between her and her patient as long as there was no chance of further harm. He assumed she learned this from years of working at a boarding school and ultimately knowing that if she told on every small accident, students would stop coming to her when treatment was needed. As far as he knew, she never told the headmaster or any of the other professors how Hermione ended up as a cat for all those weeks.

"As long as there's no injuries that require your doctor to be called," she explained as she was getting ready to do an overall diagnostic scan before replacing his nasogastric tube, "I won't need to notify Severus. However-"

Unfortunately, the matron was interrupted by the doors swinging open and Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall storming into the hospital wing, followed shortly by Hermione carrying the Marauder's Map. Harry audibly gulped knowing they were here because of him.

"Where have you been, Harry?" Professor McGonagall spoke first approaching his bed.

"...the Room of Requirement," he nervously said. "I was just-"

"Of course!" Hermione interrupted so suddenly that all the adults turned to look at her, causing her face to flush, "Um… the Room wouldn't show up on the map if one asked for a place to hide."

"I didn't think it was a big deal," Harry watched the two professors carefully. There was something in their eyes - and Hermione's - that told him something had happened. "What's going on? You weren't just looking for me were you?"

"No, Harry," McGonagall placed her hand gently on Harry's shoulder. "I'm afraid we have some rather… startling news."

Harry sat there, his heartbeat rising as he tried to anticipate whatever it was that could have happened.

"When Severus didn't see you or Mr Malfoy on this rather intriguing map," his guardian continued, "he assumed, as would I, that you were no longer on the school grounds, and he went to Hogsmeade to check for you both there."

Somehow, Harry knew where this was going already. Something happened when he'd left the boundary of the school wards and Harry was pleading through his eyes that they were wrong.

"We've gotten word," Dumbledore took over the conversation when McGonagall seemed unable to continue, "from our guard at Malfoy Manor that Severus has been seen entering one of the guest houses on the property with Lucius Malfoy and Rabastan Lastrange."

_No, no, no! What have I done?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Mistake
> 
> I can't believe it's gotten to the point I can actually write this, but I've officially started the last chapter offline before the epilogue. I'm not going to list how many chapters it will end up being, but it'll probably be comprised of about another 90k words (without Author's Notes).


	66. The Mistake

~~~~SS~~~~

His entire body was aching - most of which was coming from his rib that Lucius had kicked back in Hogsmeade - as Severus sat tightly bound from his chest to his feet to a chair in the extravagantly decorated guest house on the property of Malfoy Manor. Disapparation under a full body-bind is not forgiving on the body in the slightest and it was even worse with his damaged rib that was now being crushed by the ropes holding him and making it difficult to breathe. He didn't panic though. He'd had enough self-training to know that panicking in a situation like this would not yield the results he wanted and would only aid in him passing out, which was the last thing he needed to get out of this situation alive.

Oddly, Rabastan Lastrange was waiting for the pair of wizards just inside the anti-apparation wards and assisted the Malfoy Patriarch in moving Severus's frozen body into the guest house on the property. If he'd been able to move, he would probably have questioned - or taunted for good measure - why he wasn't being taken straight to the Dark Lord in the main house, but he was not removed from the body-bind until he was completely tied up, at which point he was in too much pain to waste his energy on questions that wouldn't ultimately improve his situation.

"Not quite what we were expecting," the younger Lastrange brother stated, walking around Severus's chair, "but the end result is the same. Potter would have been a nice addition though."

"Now, now, let's not be greedy, Rabastan," Lucius reprimanded. "We've gotten what the Dark Lord has requested."

Being spoken about like a prize or a piece of meat was nauseating. Going through all the scenarios in his mind, he knew at a bare minimum he wouldn't be killed; he had a purpose here after all. The best he could hope for was that the guard he knew was still monitoring the premises had somehow seen him arrive and alerted the Order, so at least someone knew he was here. It would take time to get a rescue mission in place and until then, he needed to stay put and do what was asked, or at least make it appear that way; he knew plenty of ways to slow down the brewing process if it was needed. He'd buy himself as much time as he could give the Order to hopefully orchestrate his rescue, meaning he could now focus on the immediate threat: Draco had officially failed his task. Unwilling to let either of the wizards surrounding him know that he knew this fact, he sat silent picking up any information he could gather from his surroundings and their loose tongues.

"You can call him?" The blonde cryptically asked.

"Of course I can," Rabastan answered with a sickening smile, "unbeknownst to him, that bracelet will summon him to my side as soon as he walks outside of the Hogwarts' wards."

Severus's stomach dropped as he realized they were talking about Draco and not the Dark Lord. A quick glance at the taller Death Eater's wrist confirmed that he was wearing the same bracelet as he'd given his protégé - the one that was supposed to be used as a port key for his own capture - and would apparently work as a modified dark mark for Rabastan's call. When the bracelet would start to burn, unable to transport the teen in Hogwarts' wards, he wouldn't know what to do unless he'd known the bracelets capabilities. Basically, Draco was going to be called to his death and he wouldn't even know how to answer the damn call.

As the minutes ticked by after Rabastan used his wand to summon the young Death Eater, Severus's own resolve slowly increased. He needed to stay focused, not only for himself, but for Draco's sake. Within that timeframe he found himself hoping - an activity he found himself doing more often as of late - that Draco would inherently know that something was wrong and seek out help in the castle. However, no matter how he looked at it, without his own presence there, he doubted the teen would go to Minerva or Albus and therefore wouldn't exactly know what else to do. His heart ached and his anxiety increased tenfold, when Draco finally appeared before them. The young wizard was interestingly still in his school uniform, though looking more disheveled than expected, drawing Severus's curiosity on where his Slytherin charge had been this entire time.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Draco yelled the second he realized where he was and saw Severus tied to a chair. "What is he doing here?"

"Draco," Lucius called his son over and gave him an awkward side hug that made the professor cringe inside, "I expressed my… concern… with Rabastan about the Dark Lord growing impatient with your lack of progress on the task you had been given. He assured me you were taken care of, however we made certain arrangements to assist you."

Betrayal flashed across Draco's face which changed to satisfaction so quickly that Severus found himself proud of the teen's ability to keep his cover under the circumstances. If they both made it out of this alive, he made a mental note to tell him such. In all his years, he'd seen men far beyond Draco's experience crumble under less pressure than what the new spy was experiencing. However, it was in that small flash of betrayal that Severus knew Draco had nothing to do with whatever plan the two Death Eaters came up with erasing that small kernel of doubt in his mind.

"You're welcome, Draco," Rabastan arrogantly said, approaching the teen in a manner that sickened Severus's stomach further. "Now shall we get on with this?"

The fear that was seen behind Draco's mask was what finally broke Severus's silence, "Is anyone going to… tell me... what's going on?"

His voice was raspy and quiet from his injured rib, but it had the desired effect. All three Slytherin Death Eaters turned as if they'd forgotten he had been able to speak this entire time and simply chose not to.

"You, our dear traitor," Rabastan left Draco's side and sauntered up to Severus's chair, "will be presented to our Dark Lord for whatever it is he requires your assistance on."

"And how does-," he challenged with a grimace of pain, "-Draco fit into this plan?"

"That's the beauty of it," Lucius watched his son carefully, "he'll be the one presenting you."

Nothing good could come of this, but he wasn't about to show his hand by saying that out loud. The Dark Lord obviously had to know enough of the plan and to be involved in sending the vision to Harry - the event Severus assumed jump started this entire ordeal - however unless Draco knew about it, Voldemort would pick up on his ignorance of the details; especially if he performed Legilimency as he tended to do in instances like these. The professor had no idea where the teenage Slytherin had been, but he doubted he knew anything about the vision itself and it seemed like neither of the idiotic Death Eaters had thought that far into their plan.

"Won't the Dark Lord know he had no previous knowledge of your scheme?"

The quiet celebratory murmurs ceased instantly as they acknowledged the glaring hole in their plan. Had they walked into the main Manor now, Draco would probably be killed. Depending on how well the sixteen year old was at Occlumency, he may still get killed, but he wasn't about to point that error out. Lucius had gone behind his master's back to aid his son in hopes of preventing that fate, and Severus had every intention of exploiting it to his benefit when the time was right.

The observation earned him a hard hit across his already aching chest with Lucius's staff that was so hard he was surprised he'd stayed conscious afterwards, and more than a small part of him wished he hadn't. He wouldn't be able to accomplish his goal of getting Draco prepared to stand before the Dark Lord and not only lie about his position, but completely fabricate a mission as his own. Even Severus wasn't that suicidal and he silently cursed the Malfoy patriarch for his feeble attempt to get involved. The pain now radiating from his - by now surely broken - rib was worth it to hear Rabastan and Lucius bring the young Slytherin up to speed on what had happened: everything from the memories they saw of Severus and Harry during the Occlumency attack suggesting that the two of them had become close, to the memories they had Voldemort send to Harry - at which point the former spy was sure he caught a small look of understanding from the young blonde wizard - then the fact that they assumed Harry would be the one to leave the Hogwarts grounds first due to his legendary overly emotional reactions - Severus couldn't deny that, he still had no idea if Harry had ever been found at the school - and finally how they planned to use the Gryffindor as bait before handing him over with Severus, but the professor had emerged from the school first.

"So wait a minute," Draco said insultingly to Rabastan as they were getting ready to take the trek to the Manor, "if you told the Dark Lord to send those visions, then he already knows it wasn't me and I'm basically a deadman walking!"

"Draco," Rabastan winked at the boy, "I was specifically told to take you under my wing and in doing so, he fully understands you may not have come up with all of this yourself, but when you walk in with the prize-" he turned to Severus, "-all else will be forgotten. He needs these potions and for some reason only the traitor can provide them."

The professor could have gone into how complicated they were to accurately brew, though no one in that room - outside of, maybe, Draco - would have cared. The ability to brew those potions was the only thing keeping him alive and he needed it to stay that way if he had any chance at ensuring the teen's safety.

The fear from Draco's steel eyes could not be hidden, but luckily his two captors were too busy regaling in their victory to take notice. It tore him apart inside to know that Lucius had gone so far as to put himself directly in the Dark Lord's path by his insubordination - from his desire to help his son - yet failed to see how all of this was affecting the young wizard inside. It was obvious that he didn't want to be here; he didn't want to deliver his professor ultimately to his death, though admittedly that wouldn't be until the evil wizard was cured from the cancer. Severus wasn't too caught up in that last part, he had plenty of time to find a way out before he was killed; in his old reality, Harry's potions would have lasted for over two years had it not turned around for the worst so quickly.

"Let's get this over with," Draco spat, walking up to Severus with a look of pure disgust, "I guess you're mine."

It chilled him to his core to feel the hate and resentment pouring out of Draco as he untied the portion of his bindings that would allow him to stand from the chair. He wouldn't try to run, though letting Draco handle a prisoner such as himself was likely a bad idea overall. The young wizard was just that: young and naive, and Severus could have escaped his bindings had it been to his advantage to do so. Without his wand, he didn't like his chances against both Lucius and Rabastan. One or the other, he trusted himself to physically take down, but both - while trying to keep Draco safe - was not a smart move. So he walked cooperatively, or as much as would be expected given his current circumstances and his broken rib, every so often trying half-heartedly to pull out of his young "captor's" light grip. Lucius was leading the way out of the guest house and towards the Manor with Rabastan - the stronger of the two wizards - following behind keeping a keen eye on the pair in the middle.

"He's alright," Draco whispered into Severus's right ear when the young wizard conveniently pulled on his bindings as if to reign him in. "He's pissed off, but he's safe."

Severus didn't dare react to the message, except to pull a little harder to try to break to his freedom. The walk to the main house was dark, as it was likely approaching midnight, and frigidly cold. In his weakened state, he couldn't hold back his body from shivering and each small movement sent a wave of agonizing pain from his chest all the way around his body. At this point, he'd prefer to be before the Dark Lord inside than shivering outside walking. They passed through the gardens and around the hedge maze that he always found one of the most ridiculous features, after the peacocks of course, that the Malfoy's cherished. A rush of grief coursed through his body when he walked right by the spot where he and Lucius found their sixteen year old sons with the Dragon Dust in his old reality and somehow, even given the fate he was currently facing, he preferred to be here than back in that time. Here, Harry had a chance to live even if the professor wouldn't survive. Unfortunately, experience had taught him that there was a better chance than not that he wouldn't walk out of Malfoy Manor after stepping foot inside. The most likely scenario was that the Dark Lord would get frustrated with the slow progress and constant potions he'd need to take and would eventually kill him outright. He'd live longer than Matthew, though, because the potions would make him feel better, he would just need them for a longer period of time than Severus was sure he expected.

Similar to Grimmauld Place, Severus hated Malfoy Manor. It was old, pretentious, and filled with an aura of Dark Magic throughout every corridor and that was _before_ the Dark Lord took up residence here. Now, it was dark, drafty, and not all the inviting Christmas filled place he remembered last seeing it, as if Narcissa's warm touch had been removed from every piece of delicate furniture, expensive paintings adorning the walls, or chandeliers filled with candles that were hardly ever used.

Predictably, he was taken to the dining room or what had previously been the dining room. Now it was an empty, open space with no other furniture besides a set of armchairs by the large fireplace. With a wave of his wand, Lucius lit the fire which casted an eerie glow over the room before lighting the large chandelier above their heads.

Severus was standing beside Draco - who had sloppily let go of his bindings - until Rabastan came up behind him and kicked the back of his knees, causing the professor to fall to the floor. The last time he'd been in this position was the morning of the first Privet Drive attack. Ironically, he'd be leaving this room in much the same way: to be imprisoned while he brewed potions for the dark wizard.

"Call him," Rabastan ordered Draco, though Lucius misunderstood and lifted his own sleeve, "Not you. Draco!"

"Of course," the Patriarch embarrassingly said and gestured to his son, "Go ahead, Draco, this is your moment."

Time seemed to stand still as Draco unbuttoned and rolled up the left sleeve of his school shirt to reveal the dark black mark that never should have been there to begin with. He should have fought harder to get Draco into hiding back in July; yes they managed to get some information - like saving the Smithe's and learning of this headquarters to begin with - but at what cost? They robbed a teenage boy of his innocence and forced him into a position where he had to kill two people. It was different from Severus's own position, he chose to join. While Draco may have wanted the Death Eater life a year ago and chose to switch sides originally to keep himself from Azkaban, he'd made great strides in the last eight months and Severus could see he no longer believed in any of their propaganda. Unfortunately, that was about to be tested in the worst possible way and the former spy was terrified what would be discovered.

The air shifted in the moments after Draco touched his Dark Mark and when the black smoke appeared around him, he knew this was it.

"Severus," that raspy voice called his name, sending disdain through his veins, "though it seems you have a purpose after all… that doesn't mean we can't have some fun first."

The former Death Eater steeled his jaw knowing exactly what was coming up next and there wasn't a single thing he could do to stop it.

" _Crucio!_ "

~~~~HP~~~~

In the moment when Dumbledore told him that they'd managed to confirm that Snape had been captured, Harry had a whole range of emotions pour through him. First and foremost, he was still angry with the former Death Eater-turned-spy for his role in orphaning him, which was why his overall panic about the man's capture confused him. He shouldn't care what happened to him, except no matter how hard he tried he ultimately didn't like the fact that the professor was currently in Voldemort's clutches.

As he'd expected all along - for different reasons than any of the people in the hospital wing thought - he was moved to Professor McGonagall's quarters once Madam Pomfrey replaced his feeding tube and he was released.

"The Order will get him home, Harry," his guardian said after helping get him settled in her guest room for the night. Madam Pomfrey had just left from setting up the overnight nutrients - since McGonagall didn't know how to do that - and Dobby had delivered his things from his old bedroom in the dungeons. "I can't promise it will be quick, but we'll bring him home."

He couldn't find his voice to answer, so he nodded. She would think he was still upset about the professor's capture and since he didn't even know how he felt about it all, he was ok with that. Confused, that was his overall disposition. Before leaving the Room of Requirement, he wasn't sure he wanted to see Snape again, but now he found himself wanting to have it out with the man. To question how he could sit there day in and day out next to Harry with this secret sitting between them, how he could lead Harry on about living in a different world as his father and building something like - but not exactly - that here and not have a centimeter of guilt about it all. Had his counterpart in Snape's old reality known or had the professor been able to adopt him without ever saying a word about his own contribution to the situation? Suddenly, the young wizard was sick to his stomach and for once it had nothing to do with Leukemia.

"What about Draco?" Harry asked so quickly it made the elderly professor jump a bit on the end of his bed. Of course he'd told them all about the two of them dueling in the Room of Requirement - causing Snape not to see him on the Marauder's Map - and the strange burning from the bracelet Draco had been wearing. Dumbledore himself went out to look for the Slytherin, but hadn't returned before Harry left the hospital wing with McGonagall.

"There was no sign of him on the school grounds or in Hogsmeade," she said sadly. "The Order is out looking for him too. Are you certain he didn't-"

"No," Harry quickly interrupted her accusation before she could finish. There was no way Draco could have known what was going on because Harry had interrupted where he was headed and basically forced him to the Room to duel. He hadn't been in contact with anyone and no matter how powerful Voldemort thought he was, there was no way he could have predicted that Draco and Harry would have crossed paths at that exact moment or that _Harry_ would have been the one to decide to go to the Room where they would be hidden. "He had nothing to do with it. You'll have to trust me on this one, there's no way he could have had any contact with his father or the other Death Eater. He was scared when that _thing_ started burning and I got the feeling he had no idea what it would do."

"Thank you, Harry," she patronizingly patted his right knee. "Your word will be very important whenever we do find him." _If he's still alive_ , hung heavily between them. "Try to get some rest tonight."

Harry sat up awake long after the professor left for her own bedroom. The room was just like the last time he stayed there, even the bed was the same and if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine he was still in his room back home - no, in the dungeons. At first he tried to sketch, but his mind was racing too fast with the events of the day he couldn't focus enough to apply his pencil to the paper. Then he tried to read, but now that he wouldn't be attending classes anymore, there wasn't much use in reading any of his textbooks and he didn't really have any recreational reading with him. In the end, he pulled out the box of pictures of his mum - trying to ignore the fact that they were from Snape - along with the photo album from Hagrid at the end of his first year, and he thought about what life would have been like if Snape never overheard that prophecy. Or even better, if the man had some kind of conscience at that time and decided not to send a crazed dark wizard after a small child. He couldn't help it, and didn't even try to stop the tears as they fell from his eyes. Yes, he'd made the best of the hand he'd been dealt, but friends and pseudo-family didn't make up for the loss of his parents. That night it felt like he'd lost them all over again on top of losing the one person who had slowly started to fill that always aching void in his heart where they should have been.

Harry fell asleep still clutching the pictures of his parents in his hands with his cheeks stained by the trails of his tears. The young wizard had no idea that the adrenaline from night had masked the growing pain from his magical core that was burning out due to its overuse in the duel against Draco coming so close after his magical testing. Sometime around one o'clock in the morning - not long after Snape's torture was starting 500 miles away at Malfoy Manor - he was awoken to a sharp, firey, stabbing pain that pulsed through him like hot coals. He burst out of his bed for the lavatory, making it just in time to vomit into the loo from the pain.

In the process of making his way to the lavatory, he'd managed to pull his feeding tube out yet again; this time the discomfort was nothing compared to what was happening inside of him. Trying to be quiet and not wake the professor sleeping in the room not far from where he was, he bit down on his bottom lip to stop himself from screaming, but when he tasted the coppery blood instinctively he released it and could no longer contain his screams. It felt like an hour passed - but was probably only five minutes - before McGonagall hurried into the lavatory having been woken up by the blood curdling scream. She was tightly wrapped in her tartan dressing gown and her long grey hair was held loosely in a plait down her back. She kneeled down beside Harry, who was laying in the fetal position on the tiled floor, writhing in pain, and placed her aged hand on his shoulder.

"Harry," she called out to him, "tell me what's wrong."

He was shivering but sweating, and only managed to shake his head before curling up trying to fold himself in half to ease the pain in his stomach. Feeling guilty from the scared and worried look that crossed his guardian's face, he pressed his head back into the floor trying to find any position that would give him just a little relief. The sound of McGonagall talking reached his ears, however she sounded like she was submerged under the black lake and he couldn't hear a single thing she'd said to him. All he could do was keep shaking his head back and forth hoping someone would know that he was not ok; that something was very wrong with him.

Her warmth suddenly left his side and with it left his chest feeling cold as he laid on the floor shivering and alone. _Snape_. Even after everything that had happened, at that moment he wanted McGonagall to return with the one person who would know how to make this better. The man he'd been so furious with was somehow the only one he knew that could fix this. When Professor McGonagall returned, she was not alone, but she hadn't brought Snape. No one could bring him because he was miles away in Voldemort's hands. Instead the Transfiguration Professor brought back the only two other people who _would_ be able to help him: Madam Pomfrey and Dr Swanson.

"Harry, can you hear me?"

He tried to nod his head at his muggle doctor, because he did hear her and was able to understand, but all he managed was a groan. Cracking his eyes open, everything around him was fuzzy - from his lack of glasses - and their quick movements over his head was disorienting. In all the commotion, he couldn't even tell which way was up.

"Can you get him back to his bed?" He heard Dr Swanson's commanding voice ask before his entire world went black.

~~~~SS~~~~

The former Death Eater had known he wouldn't be killed the moment his feet touched the soil at Malfoy Manor, however that didn't necessarily mean he wouldn't get close to it. In fact, though there had been more times than Severus wanted to admit that he'd wished he died, none of them compared to the way he currently felt after rounds of curses from the Dark Lord that night. His broken rib was now accompanied by two more making it nearly impossible to breathe, his nose was bleeding from hitting it against the marble floor too many times, and his whole body shook so badly from the Cruciatus Curse that he didn't know if he'd be able to prepare the ingredients for the potions he'd been brought to brew. He was tired, he was hurt, yet he refused to give in and beg for mercy.

At some point - he had no reference of time while in the dining room - Lucius and Rabastan had joined the sardonic dark wizard in throwing out the curses, each one trying to overshadow the other. To get through the night, the former spy called upon his Occlumency to hide away in the far recesses of his mind and detach himself as much as possible. It wasn't until the Dark Lord called upon Draco to start that Severus pulled out of that state and back into the harsh reality he was living through.

Draco's slight hesitation wasn't missed by any of the full grown wizards in the dining room that night.

"Draco," Lucius sharply warned through his clenched teeth, "do it now!"

Those three words strengthened the teen's resolve as he peered around the room taking in his own reality. He was being celebrated as a successful Death Eater for orchestrating the mission that captured their elusive traitor. In a single night he was once again being used to pay for what his father had failed to do himself less than a year ago at the Department of Mysteries. Severus hoped that Lucius could recognize the fear in his son's eyes beneath a mask of courage as he approached the injured professor, barely able to kneel on the ground, and brandished his Hawthorne wand.

The two of them - mentor and protégé - made eye contact and Severus gave a small, almost imperceptible nod letting Draco know that he had to act. If not, there would be no way he could get them out of this mess because they'd both be dead. The teenager would need to pull up his perseverance and attack, similar to what he did during the final duel against Hermione. Unfortunately, this situation was too different than standing across the classroom from his girlfriend, where her own competitive nature allowed him the knowledge that she wouldn't hesitate to attack him first. Here he was expected to attack someone who was unarmed and would not fight back; it was not self defense, it was torture.

" _Crucio."_

They all knew the curse was half-hearted at best, and the red streak of light barely caused a ripple of shock through Severus's body. The anxiety the false alarm caused him was almost worse than the curse itself. The former spy would have faked his reaction had he not thought it would draw more attention to the young wizard's mistake.

"Lucius," the Dark Lord sauntered over to the Malfoy Patriarch, "it seems your young heir is having second thoughts. Perhaps he's not loyal to our cause any longer?"

"No, my Lord," the older blonde reassured. "He's…"

" _Crucio!"_

The implications of what had been said pushed Draco in the right direction and this time his curse shot straight through Severus's body firing every last nerve from his head to his feet. The teen's young pointed face had a mixture of disgust and regret painted across it that he hoped would be taken as disgust to Severus and regret for not having done it right the first time. During those painful moments, the former spy tried to stay focused on the pride and respect he had for the young wizard, knowing exactly how difficult it was to be placed in the position he was standing in. To turn your wand on someone who's helped you, regardless of the bumps along the way, was one of the most difficult of tasks.

"Young Draco," Voldemort called out to him and the curse finally fell, releasing Severus from his personal hell. "Approach."

If he weren't still recovering from the pain of the hexes he'd been subjected to, he would be terrified for the young wizard. They all knew what was coming up; the Dark Lord was going to test the teen. Severus had no idea how long he'd been laying on the floor, it could have been two or three in the morning, or still only just past midnight, but he knew Draco had to be tired and that would not bode well for his young mind.

It looked as painful as he remembered his own experiences with Legilimency being with the Dark Lord. Draco's pale face started to bead with sweat as the most evil wizard of their time ripped through his mind attempting to verify his loyalty and his honesty. It had been a while since Severus had tested the young Slytherin's Occlumency shields and he held his breath waiting to see what would come out of the scene in front of him. In the worst case scenario, his association with the Order would be uncovered, which was why they had compartmentalized the information away and therefore while it wouldn't help Draco, it would ultimately keep the Order safe and that was any operative's first priority.

For the rest of his life, Severus would be haunted by the screams that came from his student that night and he almost questioned which was worse: watching the ordeal or being Draco living through each memory that was shuffled before his eyes. While the professor didn't necessarily care how much pain and anguish he caused Alton when he did this same activity to the healer all those months ago, in the back of his mind it was still his friend, and he wasn't nearly as harsh as he could have been. Draco would not be given that small morsel of respect from the Dark Lord and it showed both on his face - as it went from stressed to anxious to pain filled - or in his voice, that started with just a whimper and grew to a groan, then a yell, until finally he started screaming. It was the last level that would forever stay with Severus as the moment he failed; not because in the end it was clear that Draco had been forced to give up secrets he had wanted to keep silent, but because the child should not have been in that situation to begin with.

When the young blonde finally fell to the floor, where he immediately curled into a fetal position - a common reaction after one's mind was ripped through so violently - they knew it was all over and that the Dark Lord had uncovered something he wasn't supposed to see. Lucius was standing directly behind the professor, holding him just in case he happened to be strong enough to leave - which he absolutely was not - and the older wizard's grip drastically tightened as Voldemort's sickening smile grew.

"Your protégé and heir has been less than honest with you both," he called out and nonverbally cast _Expelliarmus_ and simultaneously _Incarcerous_ to bind Draco without his wand.

"My Lord," it was Rabastan that spoke up this time. "I don't-"

" _Crucio!"_

The largest Death Eater was brought down writhing in pain as the curse was held for half a minute.

"How has he managed to fool us all?" Voldemort rhetorically asked as he walked back up to the scared teen now bound onto the floor. "It seems he has been against us even before he was rewarded with my mark."

Pure revulsion and defiance crossed Draco's face and Severus wished he could tell the young wizard not to fight. If he knew the Dark Lord as well as he did, there would be no swift death; he would want an explanation and to taunt his capture as much as possible. That time could be used to stall and work out a plan to save Draco.

"It's no wonder you could not kill Charlie Weasley," the evil wizard continued, "I knew I should have killed you then."

As Voldemort raised his ivory wand over the short mop of blonde hair, Draco ducked his head, while simultaneously Lucius's grip on Severus's shoulders tightened so much that he was sure he'd have the crescent moon shapes from the Death Eater's short fingernails marked into his skin. This was good though, Lucius being thrown off balance could be beneficial and it was obvious the Patriarch did not know of Draco's subterfuge before this moment.

"But he also has provided me with the most useful of information from any of my followers," Upon hearing this declaration, Severus's blood ran cold. As quickly as he could, the professor ran through all the information he knew the young spy had been privy to and nothing he came up with matched the pure elation that was plastered across the dark wizard's face. It was as if he'd found the meaning to life and was clinging onto it.

Finally, using the wand that he'd been waving threateningly throughout the whole ordeal, the Dark Lord levitated Draco up off the floor like a rag-doll being dragged from room to room by its owner. Forcing the young Slytherin to remain still, he performed another round of Legilimency. If possible, this time looked more painful than the last; this time the sadistic wizard knew he was dealing with a second traitor and knew exactly what he was looking for. And this time when it ended, Draco crashed to the floor and started vomiting. Severus felt Lucius shift behind him as if wanting to run to his son's side, but he stood tall still holding tightly to his shoulders.

"Horcrux," the dark lord spat out to the teenager on the floor. "Such a dangerous word for a boy who has no clue what he's just walked into. No doubt when you overheard that conversation in the library, you had no idea how it could be used against you."

He continued to circle the teen like a shark circling its prey. To his credit, Draco turned to face him strong and confident in the face of the Dark Lord's accusations. Severus could see the fear still lingering in his eyes, but his determination to stand strong - to not let his mentor down - won out against the fear.

"If I'm to believe your findings," this time the crazed wizard pointed his wand to include Severus into the accusation before swiftly turning back to Draco, "you've saved me from making a very grave mistake."

"What are you-" Lucius started to question his son.

"It appears _Harry Potter_ has a much larger role in all of this than even I ever thought possible," Voldemort interrupted the older blonde without removing his gaze or wand from the teen. "If this is correct, until other… arrangements… can be made, I must now protect the boy, instead of kill him."

"I can get to him for you, my Lord," Rabastan quickly offered, stepping up in front of Lucius in an attempt to separate himself from the apparent disaster of the Malfoys. The entire exchange made Severus's stomach churn. He had a suspicion that the teen had known about the soul fragment, but after the potion accident they'd never discussed it again; that in itself should have told the professor he had information he likely should not have had.

"No," the Dark Lord replied, taking his wand and running across the underside of Draco's chin, drawing the teen's grey eyes onto his own red ones. Severus assumed another round of Legilimency was coming - and he feared for the young wizard's sanity if that were the case - but instead the serpentine wizard just held him in place while contemplating his next move; demonstrating his power over those he held captive. "I believe I shall leave that task to our newest _double agent_ here, since he managed to… _successfully…_ bring in our first traitor."

The way he'd said it told every wizard in the room that he knew the truth behind Severus's own capture.

"And if I refuse?" Draco confidently replied, likely without thinking because if Severus had been in his position, he would have kept quiet as long as possible. While he'd previously lectured to his class about the benefits of combining the differing house traits, this was not a time for foolish Gryffindor antics. "We both know you're just going to kill me anyways, so why don't we drop the pleasantries."

"Ah, yes," the Dark Lord hissed in amusement, "you speak the truth, but I ask you to consider if there are fates worse than death. For Lucius, it's seeing his young heir tortured with a mission that will lead him directly to Azkaban or worse. For you, I should think the filthy _muggle_ girlfriend should be convincing enough. There are so many different ways to handle her-" he paused allowing Draco's fear to consume him, "I could let Bellatrix have a go with her. Your dear Aunt would not be kind that's for sure, but I believe the best fate for young Hermione Granger is leaving her to Fenrir. I do believe young girls are a specialty of his and I'm certain he'd allow you viewing-"

"Shut up!" Draco finally broke down, giving a sideways, apologetic glance to Severus. It was bound to happen given the night they'd all had. "I'll do it."

"I never had a doubt," the Dark Lord responded, "Rabastan, you will make sure he's monitored at all times before we send him back into the castle. "

"Yes, my Lord" the dark haired Death Eater confirmed, "I can modify the bracelet. Give me some ti-"

"I expect it completed by Saturday night," Voldemort interrupted, "in the meantime, young Draco will be staying here, where I can keep a _very_ close watch on him."

Still tightly bound in the ropes, Draco was pulled out towards the exit of the room and for the second time, Severus felt Lucius's urge to follow him. If the Malfoy heir was going to be used to get Harry, under the watchful eyes or ears of Rabastan, he wouldn't be killed in the next 72 hours and that was the only hope Severus was clinging to. Once he got the Gryffindor though… he'd need to do some quick thinking over a very short amount of time because whatever Rabastan did over the last few months to ease the pressure off how long Draco took to "capture" him, would certainly not work a second time.

"Rabastan, take Severus to the dungeons where he'll be brewing," the Dark Lord called over his shoulder just before he left the room with the young wizard, "you and Lucius can do what you'd like with him, as long as he's capable of working in the morning."

~~~~HP~~~~

**_Thursday, 13th March, 1997_ **

"H-ry?"

He felt groggy. That was the first thought that ran through the Gryffindor's mind. The second was that he was no longer in any pain. Was he finally dead?

"-arry."

Someone was calling him, so he couldn't be dead, but he was afraid if he opened his eyes that awful burning feeling in his stomach would return, and he liked wherever he was. It was warm and comfortable here, and he could just sink into the abyss and stay there forever.

"Harry…"

If only that person would stop calling for him. Unable to block out his consciousness and fall back into the darkness, he cracked his eye open. Although the world around him was still blurry, he could tell he was back in his bed in McGonagall's quarters by a quick process of elimination: the bed was too comfortable for the hospital wing, no one would dare remove him from the Hogwarts grounds, and the drier air meant he wasn't in the dungeons.

"Harry," he heard what sounded like Hermione's voice call out to him again, "can you hear me?"

His glasses were placed on his face for him and he found out that he had been right; he was back in his bedroom in Professor McGonagall's quarters in the tower. It looked as if Hermione had been sitting on the floor by his bed and was now kneeling next to the bed holding his hand, Ron was standing across the room with his arms tucked firmly across his chest, and Dudley was sitting at the chair by the desk. He was so grateful to see these three faces when waking up - having not seen Hermione in three weeks and the other two boys since he started Phase Three almost two months ago - and he didn't realize just how much he missed them.

"You alright, Harry?" Dudley asked, walking up to his bed and sitting down at the end of it. Ron was still standing across the room and Harry wondered what happened to have the redhead so off. "You gave everyone quite a scare last night."

Last night. So he hadn't really lost any time.

"What happened?" He asked pushing up on his elbows bringing his attention to the fact that he was getting some kind of medication through his port. Unfortunately, it appeared like none of his friends were going to speak up as they simply looked out at one another.

"I gave you a mild sedative last night," Dr Swanson said as she entered the room with McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey in her wake. His muggle doctor appeared much more in control than the two witches, who both had worried expressions on their faces. "You were in too much pain to safely treat you otherwise."

"What happened?" Harry asked again because she still hadn't answered his question.

"Can you all give us a minute?" McGonagall asked the three teenagers in his bedroom. Hermione wanted to protest, Harry could easily see that, but his small nod and McGonagall's firm eyes convinced her not to.

Now Harry was nervous, probably more nervous than even before he got the Leukemia diagnosis and close to when he was in the graveyard facing Voldemort.

"Harry," Madam Pomfrey started the conversation, "what did you do yesterday?"

Audibly gulping, Harry furrowed his brows in concentration, "Erm… nothing much yesterday morning and then in the afternoon I had a test with Sev-" he paused as the memories of the afternoon returned to him, "-Snape where he tested my magic again… and then I went and… practiced Defense with Draco in the Room of Requirement. That's when I went to the hospital wing and found out that Snape was..."

The medi-witch pulled out a sheet of parchment understanding how difficult it was for him, but not the reasons, "Did anything out of the ordinary happen during any of those events? Specifically your Defense practice?"

He turned his head in confusion. There was no way he could talk about the vision, so instead he shook his head. Outside of his magical levels and the visions, nothing was different.

"Can someone tell me why I was in so much pain last night?"

There was a pregnant pause and it appeared as if none of the women were going to answer when finally Dr Swanson - of all people - finally spoke up, "We believe it was the final bit of your magic leaving."

At first he thought he heard her wrong, but when the news hit him he couldn't help when his head dropped into his hands. The air surrounding him wasn't nearly enough and he found himself gasping trying to find some way to get more oxygen into his lungs.

"It's alright, Harry," McGonagall reassured him, "well figure this out. I promise, you are not alone."

He didn't cry. Instead, he sat there and stared at his bedspread wishing he were back in his bed downstairs in the dungeon, even if Snape weren't here.

"Now," Dr Swanson continued, "we won't know for sure until we run some tests…"

Harry wasn't listening as she went on about his blood samples and blood counts, or about how they wanted him to test something with his wand once he was stronger. It didn't matter to him either way, he could tell that his magic - at least the top portion above Voldemort's soul fragment - was gone forever.

"I'd like you to stay in bed and rest today," Dr Swanson explained as sympathetically as she could, not knowing how being told you had no more magic would feel like to a sixteen year old wizard.

"Sure thing," he mumbled half-heartedly. "Can my friends come back in now? I'm guessing the fact that they're here means my blood counts are better?"

He'd forgotten that they had already gone over his blood count results and so he gave a mumbled, "sorry" and sat back on his bed with eyes closed trying to ignore the three sets of eyes on him.

Once he heard shuffling and a small set of greetings signifying the change of guests, he opened his eyes to the three people he most needed to see.

"I'm so happy you guys are here," he started with. "I take it you know what happened, which… is why none of you are in class?"

"Guilty," Ron said, "When McGonagall told us and offered the day off classes to be here with you, I wasn't about to turn her down, mate."

The awkward joke made sense to Harry and he understood Ron's uncomfortable body language from earlier. A pureblood wizard, growing up in the wizarding world, wouldn't know how to handle the news of his friend losing his magic. As devastating as it was to Harry, to Ron it would have been far more life altering since he literally wouldn't know the first thing about surviving in the muggle world. For Harry though, it wasn't necessarily about the benefits of having magic, it was losing the world that he first found acceptance in; his first real home.

"Ronald!" Hermione reprimanded their friend. "That's absolutely inappropriate to say and completely untrue."

"Come off it, 'Mione," Ron bickered back at the Gryffindor witch, "Harry always knows I'm joking around with him."

Harry nodded in Ron's defense, because he had known it was a joke and he didn't want to put any extra strain between them.

"What were you thinking, Harry?" Hermione said, breaking the silence. "Between the chemotherapy and magical testing, you knew what dueling like that would do."

It was true, he had known the risks and at the time he didn't care. As Sna- someone once told him calculated risks are sometimes necessary and though his idea was not quite calculated, it was necessary. He needed to get out that aggression he'd been feeling and he didn't care what would happen afterwards. Now he was paying the price for it.

"We heard about Professor Snape," Dudley said. "Did that have anything to do with your reaction?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "that came after."

Apparently going out and dueling as he did required some sort of explanation and he wasn't going to get away without telling them something. So with three new sets of eyes staring at him, he decided to tell them about the vision - or memories - from Voldemort at the end of his magical testing yesterday. Somehow, he managed to keep his anger under control as he walked them through the betrayal from the person he had been so sure was there to look out for him, to care for him, making certain he didn't leave any detail out. His two friends and cousin listened carefully and without interruption, Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with her hand when he got to the part about Snape not caring if Harry or his father died, and Ron turned an angry shade of red before he started pacing around the room mumbling "git" several times under his breath.

"That would explain his frantic search for you yesterday," the Gryffindor witch commented and with everything else going on he forgot she had been there; she was the last person to talk to Snape before he was captured.

"They were targeting me," Harry sadly stated, "just like with Sirius last year."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione moved to hold his hand again, but he pulled it away. Dudley was looking between the trio, having no idea what the "Sirius situation" entailed and Harry saw Ron discreetly shake his head.

The next couple of hours they talked only about light hearted topics like Dudley officially dating the Susan Bones from Hufflepuff, about how Ron and Lavender almost broke up before his birthday, but made it through their first major row on Ron's desire to become an auror after Hogwarts, and catching Harry up on the Quidditch standings, where somehow Ravenclaw was leading for the cup. They didn't talk about Snape, Harry's upcoming Maintenance Phase, or how Draco was still missing. Ironically, Harry guessed he would have been the last person to talk to him until… well, whatever happened to him.

McGonagall kicked the teenagers out right before lunch, which the professor brought Harry in bed and he primarily picked at his chicken sandwich with crisps. His last round of Phase Three chemotherapy was Saturday - an event he should be celebrating yet couldn't muster up any excitement over - and he knew he should eat while he could, but everything tasted like ash. McGonagall came back briefly to collect his lunch plates, making a note over how little he ate, then instructed him to try to sleep. He laid in the bed that was unfamiliar to him and wished he had his enchanted window to look out of, especially after Draco showed him how to change the pictures, instead of the small real window where he could only see the real sky.

Thinking about the enchanted window drew his attention to his magic, or lack thereof now. No amount of reassurance from his friends - including Ron's not so helpful comments about Filch and Hagrid - could make him feel better about it. This wasn't only expected, it was the best goal to protect the block, nonetheless it was still heartbreaking to have it happening and at such an awful time. Not caring that Madam Pomfrey told him to wait, Harry grabbed his Holly wand from the bedside table. This time, there was no excited magic coursing through him; it was empty.

" _Lumos!"_ He said, hoping and pleading that something would happen, but his wand stayed dark. " _Lumos… Lumos!"_

No matter how many times he said that spell, one of the easiest to learn, no light came from his wand. Filled with anger, grief, and despair, he threw his wand as hard as he could across the room feeling a small bit of satisfaction when he heard it clink and clatter onto the floor. The irony of the situation was not lost on him: now that he had no magic and had essentially become the person his relatives _could have_ loved, they were gone and he was once again left entirely alone.

~~~~SS~~~~

The first thing Severus noticed when he cracked his eyes open was that he could breathe significantly better than when he went to sleep; or more accurately passed out sometime while Rabastan and Lucius were throwing curses at him early in the AM hours. It was ironic really that after all he'd magically endured, it was the muggle kick he'd gotten back at Hogsmeade that caused him the most pain and that was because of his fractured, and later broken, rib which appeared to be healed now.

Aware of the oddity of such a change in his situation, even in his half sleeping state, he jumped up ready to face whatever came his way. What he didn't expect was the face of Healer Walker to be staring at him from across the room.

"Morning," she called out across from him.

Nadine Walker looked exactly as she did in his old reality. She was in her early 40's and though their time at Hogwarts overlapped by a year, he had never crossed paths with the Ravenclaw. Her raven-black hair was straight but bushy and her eyes were as icy blue as he remembered, which was one of the defining characteristics of the healer, outside of her unique specialty of muggle diseases in the wizarding world. Those eyes though, while they were full of wonder and excitement to help out the witches and wizards that were entrusted to her care before, were now filled from the months spent captured in this cell being forced to care for the evil dark wizard; to try to rid him of a disease that they had no competent brewer to help. Unlike all the other times he'd seen her in his old reality, she was wearing a plain set of dark grey robes, clearly not of her own wardrobe, as opposed to the lime green healer's robes from St. Mungo's. It was unnerving to know that he knew her so well - after spending almost a year working closely to beat Harry's Leukemia - and yet he was a complete stranger to the witch in front of him.

"I'm surprised you're awake already," she continued to talk, "I don't know what you did to warrant the condition you were in, but it took a fair amount of work to heal you the best I could without a wand."

"Thank you," he genuinely replied, sitting up from the thin mattress he'd been given in the corner of the room - or cell - he'd been placed in. The only magic required to heal him would have been his rib and he was extremely grateful she could do that wandlessly. Not many witches or wizards would attempt something that serious, but he guessed it was something every healer should know.

Now that he was physically up and able to move, he could finally get a good look at his surroundings. As expected, he'd been placed in a small room in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, not unlike the horrifying room that Sarah and Mary Smithe were kept in. The room itself was quite a bit larger than he would have expected and the mattress along the back wall directly across from him was likely the reason. It appeared he'd get the pleasure of Healer Walker as a roommate during his awkward stay in this prison. The walls, ceiling and floor were all unpainted stone making the room extremely dark, damp, and cold. A measly little fireplace sat in the middle of the wall across from the door he naturally assumed was locked, between the two beds - consisting of thin mattresses directly on the stone floor with an equally thin blanket on each - that didn't do anything to warm the cold damp air around them. There appeared to be a small lavatory through a doorway on the left wall perpendicular to the healer's bed, that had a loo, a tiny sink, and shower, but no door to afford them any privacy. The whole rest of the room was set up as a potions laboratory, with a large rectangle workbench in the middle - complete with a wide range of cauldrons, glassware, and other necessary tools - and a cupboard on the right wall perpendicular to his own bed.

Thinking quickly, he got up and briskly walked to the workbench where he opened the drawers in search of the single tool that every potions bench had: a potions knife and as Harry found out a couple of months ago, they're usually extremely sharp.

"It won't work," the healer said from her own mattress. "It's charmed to only cut ingredients. I don't even know how they managed to do it, but I've already tried."

Of course she did. At this point, if there was a way out she would have found it already; she was definitely intelligent enough to have worked out all the possibilities.

"I'm Nadine," she said, walking up to him carefully, eyeing his left forearm, a sign she had seen his mark while healing him. "I'm a Healer at St. Mungo's, or at least I used to be until I ended up here."

"I know," he said, "I'm sorry you were pulled into this mess."

A pregnant pause fell over the two of them and the healer brought over a tray with a small plate of breakfast on it and slid it across the workbench.

"I haven't seen you around here before," she warily said to him.

Severus turned and leaned against the bench top facing his roommate. He wondered if Matthew had stayed here before him and simply never came back after New Year's Eve when he had been killed.

"You wouldn't have," he replied, "I defected in the first war and was working for the other side. Until last July, I was undercover."

She'd be able to figure out the rest of the story. He watched closely as Nadine took her own tray to her mattress and sat down to begin eating. After all this time, he assumed she'd stopped worrying about the potential of being poisoned, knowing she was far more valuable alive than dead. Severus was in the same category, but still carefully checked his own breakfast for any signs of poison before taking a tentative bite.

"I'm Severus," he eventually told the witch, "Severus Snape."

"I know who you are," she boldly replied, "your commissioned work is widely known in the healer community. I've always found it strange with a talent like that, you ended up in teaching."

"It had its benefits," he mumbled, still trying to find a way out of the prison. "I take it I have all the supplies needed to brew these potions?"

She gave a chuckle that was not at all intended to be funny, "A bit arrogant aren't you? You don't even know what it is you're brewing yet. The last wizard got himself killed by-"

" _He_ was mediocre at best," Severus interrupted her, "Matthew's reputation didn't exactly spell success for the task he was handed. I'm honestly surprised he lasted as long as he did." He paused taking in her more aggressive stance since he started speaking. There was definitely not this much animosity between them in his old reality, "And let's just assume, for simplicity's sake, that I know what's going on."

She watched him closely, scrutinizing something he couldn't quite figure out. Then she narrowed her eyes at him and said, "The _Prophet_ article a couple of months ago said Harry Potter was in your care. So, you know the disease we're dealing with, but Harry's doing the muggle treatment, correct? And therefore you'd have no idea the caliber of potions you're being asked to complete."

In order to keep too much suspicion away from his unique situation, he allowed her to believe that to be the case by nodding his head. To feign his ignorance on the subject, he stood to check out the parchment left on the workbench.

"I see you've found your instructions," the voice of Avery came from the doorway. There was a small opening in the top portion that opened allowing their captors to look in. "I have my doubts that you'll succeed, however it's a lose-lose situation for you: cure the Dark Lord or be killed. Either way works for me."

He wasn't about to validate the threat with a response. Even without knowing his personal history with this regimen of potions, he was amazed how little confidence they had in his general ability. Suddenly he felt pride swell up inside of himself for what he had accomplished back in his old reality at least until the last month or so when they stopped working.

"Where's Draco?" he decided to respond instead of rising to the bait that Avery had so obviously laid out.

"You'll see soon enough," the Death Eater laughed from the other side of the door, "I suggest you get started and focus on your own miserable situation."

The small inset of the door slammed closed and in reaction Severus pinched the bridge of his nose to show his frustration. Perhaps he could try to convince the Dark Lord that Draco would be beneficial to helping with the potions. Tabling those thoughts, he had no other option than to get to work. If he could get the first set of potions - at least the one Harry had taken every single day since his diagnosis, the magical equivalent of his Vincristine now - maybe he would be able to get some information when he delivered it. He looked over the procedure, happy to see the additions of the _Euphorbia formosan_ leaves and _Vernonia amygdalina_ flower petals that were a last addition to Harry's regimen.

Working mostly off of memory - with the healer following him as a shadow watching every move he made with deep seated curiosity - he collected the supplies he'd need from the cupboard and started setting up the cauldron. Having done this every Sunday for almost a year, he barely needed to look at the instructions or the ingredients list as he placed the five whole leaves of _Euphorbia formosan_ to the still cold cauldron.

"Stop!" The healer called to him, causing the professor to half roll his eyes, "Are you that arrogant you didn't even read the instructions? Or maybe you have a death wish and just _want_ to be killed quickly?!"

Unable to control his temper any longer, he turned sharply towards her and called out, "Who's the Potion's Master here, you or I?!"

"At this exact moment?" She retorted rhetorically, "I think it's me."

Pulling out the parchment of the procedure from behind him, she shoved it into his chest and stood staring at him with her hands firmly placed on her hips. This was one of the reasons he was happy he'd never had the inclination to date or get married; he liked to do things on his own with no one breathing down his neck. Trying to avoid any major issues in their first morning as roommates, he looked down at the instructions and what he read nearly took his breath away. Where the first step should have been to add five whole leaves of _Euphorbia formosan_ to the cold cauldron, was instead crossed out and "add _finely ground_ leaves of _Euphorbia formosan_ to the old cauldron _"_ was in its place. He scanned further down to the middle of the procedure where the finely ground flower petals of _Vernonia amygdalina_ was supposed to be added after the second half hour of boiling and sure enough, the "finely ground" was crossed out and "whole petals" was written in its place. It was the exact opposite of what his procedure was in his old reality and the implications of that were not lost on him.

"Why is this different?" He asked breathlessly without thinking about the information he was providing to the healer. "It's supposed to be whole leaves and finely ground petals, why was it changed?"

Something about his questions lowered her anger slightly and instead of her previous glare of pure disdain, she was looking at him with intrigued curiosity, "I don't understand why you would question it, but Matthew discovered an error in the original formula, not that he ever got that far in the process. He may have been an awful brewer, but he knew his ingredients better than most. I'm hoping to get back to St. Mungo's at some point and submit the correction… in his memory."

"I didn't…" he started to speak, but stopped himself. He needed to know if his hypothesis was correct because while he knew that swapping something as simple as "finely ground" and "whole" could cause major changes in a potions formula, he did not exactly know - though he could guess - what the reaction would be with these two specific ingredients. "If this was done using the original procedure, did Matthew say what the end result would be?"

"Yeah, he did actually," she replied, not hiding her confusion. Severus could feel her crystal blue eyes on him as his own eyes pleaded for his conclusion to be wrong, "he said it would create the opposite effect, that instead of lowering the Leukemia cell count it would exponentially increase it. Not such a bad idea if we could get away without _him_ knowing about it, but it would be pretty obvious he was dying and he would simply kill us both before it got that far."

The professor didn't absorb a single word she'd said after that first sentence. His legs immediately gave out and he fell onto the hard, stone floor where he cradled his head in his hands trying to keep himself together. They - him and Healer Walker - had obviously questioned what had caused Harry's sudden change in his condition from late February to April and now, sitting in front of him was his answer: he'd brewed the potion incorrectly and essentially poisoned his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The Beginning of the End
> 
> Just a little note to say that offline, I'm finishing up the last chapter (before the epilogue), so there is a definitive end in sight. I'm not going to post how many chapters it will end up being, to keep the mystery of it for the readers, but there are about 80k words left.


	67. The Beginning of the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: The AU memory that starts this chapter is very heavy and talks about death in a very real manner. Unfortunately, there is some important information in the memory, so for those who want to skip it, I'll place a note at the bottom of the chapter outlining what was discovered. Please skip to that note before reading the chapter, otherwise the end won't make sense.

_~~~~AU SS~~~~_

_Severus was sitting in the cold office in St. Mungo's questioning how they'd gotten to this point. This wasn't supposed to be how it went. The cancerous cell count had been steadily declining, and this was supposed to be the appointment where Harry was declared cancer-free. Actually, that appointment was supposed to be ten days from now and he just knew it wouldn't happen anymore. When the signs of the Leukemia started to re-emerge, he immediately scheduled this appointment with Healer Walker because they couldn't wait ten days to know for sure._

_The father and son sat in the small exam room in complete silence outside of Harry's nervous leg tapping, something which Severus was not going to stop this time. This time he knew Harry needed to work off the nervous energy, as did he, and this was the best option. He didn't want to cause the young wizard anymore anxiety then he already had. Because no matter what Healer Walker said as she tried to tell them not to jump to conclusions until the results were in, they both knew exactly what was going on._

_The professor knew something wasn't right the third time his sixteen year old son had fallen asleep in his class over a fortnight period. At first, he blamed it on a thrilling Quidditch win having kept the Gryffindor up most of the night celebrating. Then he blamed the stresses of upcoming midterm exams, keeping him studying long into the night. The last time, only two days ago, there was really no excuse for it, but the biggest sign of trouble - one he could not explain away and that had his body in a hidden panic attack - was the large bruises he saw on the back of the young wizard's neck as he slept in Potion's class. After class that day, he'd kept Harry behind to ask and as expected, his son had no clue they were there or how he'd gotten them. So he immediately scheduled this appointment already knowing how it would end: the Leukemia was back._

_This was confirmed the moment Healer Walker opened the small exam room door, so softly and quietly, it was like she was trying not to displace any of the heavy air within the room. She knew by the simple act of walking into that exam room, the lives of these two would forever change and she wanted to preserve their innocence for however long she could._

_Severus didn't need to hear a word come out of her mouth to know it was bad news, which was probably the only good thing about the appointment because as she spoke, he could see her mouth moving but no words seemed to come out. He could hear bits and pieces like the phase 'stage four', although ALL and Leukemia in general didn't use a traditional staging system, he guessed his shocked and confused face meant she felt the need to provide the information in some other - easier to understand - method, meaning there wasn't anything else they could do to stop the inevitable. The healer then walked them through the previous results, comparing them to today's; Severus already knew how they looked, he had studied the results thoroughly after each appointment. This didn't make any sense, how did they go from almost remission to results worse than on the day of his diagnosis? Just in case, Healer Walker would do another test, but deep down he knew it would be futile; he'd seen the signs. Finally, she talked about palliative care; ways to keep Harry comfortable for however long he had left and at this point that was really all they could do. Things like the addictive properties of Dreamless Sleep and restricted pain potions wouldn't matter in the long run anymore, and if needed they could combine efforts with other muggle medications to help combat any pain he may find himself in._

_"But I've been taking the potions," Harry finally said, with a quiver in his voice and a layer of grief he couldn't keep away, "I've been taking them exactly as you said I was supposed to, every single day."_

_It was an expected first reaction from the teen upon hearing the news that not only had everything they'd been working on had failed, but that there was nothing they could do going forward to reverse the outcome. Harry was going to die from Leukemia._

_"Sometimes these things just happen. I am going to do some further research into what could have gone wrong," Healer Walker calmly explained, "however, regardless of the path we chose, there was never a guarantee that it would work, and the potions route had a more challenging path than the muggle treat-"_

_"How long?" Severus interrupted her bluntly._

_"It's hard to give an exact timeline, especially considering how quickly things changed in only six weeks," The healer busied herself with the file in her hands, hating to give this kind of news, "An aggressive cancer like ALL, I would guess anywhere from one to three months, could be more if the curve flattens out. My recommendation is to try not to focus on the exact number."_

_He didn't hear much from the rest of that appointment. There was a list of what they could expect and ways to help ease Harry's discomfort with each of them; both wizarding and muggle methods, the latter of which he'd contact Alton about when they got home. He would have to discuss this with the headmaster, there was no point in Harry continuing classes, though the Gryffindor insisted he continue until he physically couldn't go any longer, something Severus wouldn't deny. It would do him good to stay focused on something._

_Somehow, after a long day of extra tests, they made it back to the castle and were walking through the corridor leading back home. Severus had his arm around his son who was walking almost in a foggy daze. It wasn't supposed to go like this; he had been getting better, the cancer had been going away, until it wasn't. As expected, the young wizard went straight to his bedroom - the door closing slowly in his wake to mirror his sullen mood - leaving Severus alone in the sitting room. He paced; it was what he did when he had so much pent up energy within him that he had to move. The room was too suffocating, even after unbuttoning the top of his shirt so it didn't sit tightly around his neck. Surrounding him were all the signs of the life he lived with Harry, a life that was going to end. The pictures of birthdays and Christmases, Harry's O.W.L. results, and adoption certificate sat in frames around the room. A small cup of coffee was sitting on the table in front of him from where he sat only hours ago that morning trying to act like it was just going to be a normal check-up. Somehow, even then he knew they'd be returning completely changed. Without a second thought - a testament to his distracted mind - he picked up the small, plain white cup and threw it against the wall to the left of the fireplace, right below the enchanted window that showed a bright sunny spring day; completely wrong for how he felt inside. The cup shattered, which he'd not only expected but had hoped for, and the coffee dripped down the grey painted stone wall, leaving streaks of black tears on the wall._

_Sirius had known they were going for the check-up that day, as well as the return of the Leukemia symptoms, and therefore it didn't surprise Severus when the Animagus stopped by for dinner to hear how it went. Also not surprisingly was that Harry did not show up at the dinner table, and just this once the professor wasn't going to push the issue. So he had dinner with Harry's Godfather and told him everything that had happened and exactly what Healer Walker had told them. Immediately, Sirius got up from the small table, his chair tumbling to the floor with a loud_ **_crash_ ** _, and took off for Harry's bedroom. The professor wouldn't interrupt them, it was time that they needed to spend together._

_He'll never know how he made it through that day, but before he knew it, it was nine o'clock. He sat in his armchair staring off into the fireplace, watching the flames flicker and dance in a cadence that would be relaxing if it weren't for his distressing feelings inside of him. He refused to believe he'd failed his son. There had to be a way to fix this, to give Harry more time for his body to fight against the cancer. He couldn't just let it end like this. Going through his extensive research left him empty handed, but he remembered back to a conversation he'd had about four months ago with the very last person he would ever go to for help in this type of situation. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and he needed to do something, anything. And suddenly he knew what that something was._

_Sirius had been in with Harry since he'd heard the news, and Severus had left them more or less alone, except to bring a much needed dose of Dreamless Sleep for Harry that night. The young wizard must have finally taken the potion because Sirius walked out right at the same time Severus knew what he needed to do._

_"Can you stay with Harry?" He asked Sirius as the Gryffindor collapsed onto the sofa, "I need to run an errand."_

_"You need to go now?!" Sirius angrily questioned, "What the hell could be so bloody important that you need to leave in the middle of the night?!"_

_It was a manifestation of the Godfather's grief and Severus wouldn't interrupt the process. It was easier to be angry with the professor leaving, especially since it definitely wasn't the middle of the night, then the situation neither of them could change._

_"Can you stay with him or not?"_

_"Of course," Sirius spat back. "Are you going to tell me where you're going?"_

_Gathering up his traveling cloak, making sure to re-button his shirt so he had some semblance of control over himself in preparation for this visit, he turned to the Gryffindor who looked so lost with his red-rimmed eyes pleading for the professor to have some solution to their common problem._

_"I'm going to try to fix this," he called out over his shoulder, "any way I can."_

_Severus stood in the ornate library waiting for the person he knew would still be awake at this late hour. This large, expansive library had always had a calming effect on him in the otherwise daunting Manor, and it was exactly the environment he needed to make this request._

_"Severus," the long drawl of Lucius Malfoy came from behind him, "to what do I owe the pleasure for this late visit?"_

_"Please accept my sincerest apologies to you and Narcissa for the hour," the former spy told his colleague and friend, "I need your help."_

_It was far more casual of a request than he would normally make to this wizard. Lucius was the epitome of formality and his less than eloquent request was far from the usual tone most would use with the man. But Severus was desperate for answers, for a solution that he hoped was stored here in Malfoy Manor because the patriarch had tried to give him what he was now looking for back when he was in this same room during the Christmas party._

_"What is it that you need?" He could see the negotiations passing through Lucius's mind and Severus didn't care what it cost him._

_"Harry's dying," Severus bluntly said. It was really the first time he'd used those two words alone, and the grief filled him up inside. "I need to do anything I can-"_

_He was interrupted by Lucius's pale hand, adorned with his silver serpentine rings, lifting as a signal for him to cease talking._

_"Are you willing to dabble across the line?"_

_No explanation was necessary, the blonde had picked up exactly what he was there to collect._

_"I'm willing to do anything I can," he would beg if he needed to, sell his soul back to the Dark Lord, whatever it took to get the two tomes that might contain the information he needed._

_Giving a slight nod, Lucius went to the familiar bookcase with the hidden drawer that hopefully held the answers he seek. It took less than a minute for the other wizard to return, holding two ancient looking books that had an aura of Dark Magic around them._

_"From one father to another," the blonde said, handing the books to Severus, "you have my strictest of confidence that should you find yourself using anything within these texts, I will honor utmost discretion. As I'm sure you will as well."_

_At this point, Severus didn't care if he was imprisoned in Azkaban as long as it saved Harry in the end. Using any of these potions, spells, or rituals, could leave him rotting there for the rest of his life and he wouldn't think twice about it using any of them._

_"Thank you," he replied, trying to ignore the rare sympathy and pity in his friend's eyes._

_Upon returning to his quarters, it took most of the night and several cups of coffee to finally find something he could use. It was sometime just before four in the morning, with Sirius fast asleep on the couch with the help of his own dose of Dreamless Sleep, that Severus came across a blood ritual aptly named "Blood Cleansing"._

Ritual: Blood Cleansing

A thorough cleansing is not achieved without the presence of a destructive force to remove the impurities. As with all in the system of correspondence, a balance - _justice_ \- must be found. A benevolent light does not produce the calamitous magic necessitated to overpower and eliminate; it merely casts a light on the imperfections. It is only through ceremonies of hatred and destruction, of overwhelming power, that impurities are destroyed and pureblood can be introduced.

Adhering to the symbols of two evils, this ritual requires two stages for completion. The first stage introduces the vitriol power of Mars and causes an image of destruction to compel into a black abounding vitality, which can burn itself through the corporeal body, and destroy imperfections. The natural order of the universe must be disrupted to undo the connection to the physical body. At the witching hour, three hours past midnight, the ritual room is prepared by burning toxic henbane and black hellebore and inhaled deeply only by the hosted.

A host will need to be selected for the second part of the ritual. Purest of pureblood and born under at least three of the planets in Virgo, with Mars being one of them, to find celestial contention and restore balance. The host will be laid on a cloth of red and the illustrated runes drawn in blood onto the host's chest. Five Armanian carnelian agates will be placed around the hosted while five mossgate emeralds will be placed around the host.

Bloodletting should always begin on the hosted's left arm. An incision is made using an enchanted athame steeped in sacrificial dragon blood. Only bleed the hosted while speaking the incantation; the wound will be closed when the incantation is completed.

Using a second athame dipped in dragon blood, an incision is made on the host's left arm. The blood is collected in an inscribed Babylonian kyanite bowl. Discard the initial four bowls of blood from the host; these are not considered pure enough. The ritual requires the unstable, debaucherous power of _5_. The fifth bowl will be taken immediately to the hosted, while the blood is still warm and energized, and will be dripped into the hosted's right arm by way of incision.

This ritual should be performed every other night until the blood imperfection can be otherwise destroyed.

_If he was reading this correctly, the ritual would use a pureblood donor to cleanse the blood from Harry. It would be a temporary effect - meaning the cancer would quickly return - and need to be repeated every other night, but it could give them the time to find a way to cure the cancer permanently._

_The wording surrounding this ritual made it clear as day that this was Dark Magic by requiring a blood - thankfully not a life - sacrifice, but again he was willing to take the risk, and the sacrifice, himself if he could. He summoned a large piece of parchment and laid it out on the table in front of him to start making a list of the things required for the event:_

_Pureblood. That one was pretty obvious, and something he unfortunately could not provide as a half-blood himself. Looking over to the sleeping Gryffindor, he knew Black would also do whatever he could to save Harry. He wrote "Black Family" on the parchment for later research to see if the Animagus matched the other celestial and astrological requirements. While Severus was not by any means sufficient in astrology, these measures were kept in every Hogwarts student's files, though he wouldn't have immediate access to the Gryffindor's at this hour. Turning his focus to the files he did have access to, his Slytherins who also happened to carry most of the pureblood "Sacred Twenty-Eight", he wrote down every pureblood name he could immediately think of that were in his house, not thinking - or caring - if they'd consent to this procedure, arrangements could be made to make it possible: Malfoy, Bulstrode, Flint, Greengrass, Nott, and Parkinson. Summoning the appropriate files, for once it didn't take him long to find his answer: Draco Malfoy matched every single requirement, and the fact that the two boys had managed some kind of truce between them after the Malfoy Christmas party incident meant there was some chance - even if were small - that he would agree to such a ritual. It was with that minuscule sense of relief that Severus found himself falling asleep over his files on the sitting room table._

_"What's this?!" He was abruptly woken up from his sleeping spot on the table by Black's loud proclamation. Clearing the sleep from his eyes, proving that he couldn't have slept much more than three or four hours, he looked up to find the Gryffindor wizard standing over him holding the book with the ritual and his notes about Draco. Coming from a family that knew all about dark magic, he wasn't surprised when the other wizard continued, "This will work! It'll give us more time to fight!"_

_"We'd need Lucius's approval given that it's his son," Severus explained, stretching out his aching back. He really should not have allowed himself to fall asleep like that. "Not to mention he'd need to do this bloodletting every other day until we could find a cure for the cancer."_

_"Who cares?!" The other wizard practically yelled. "We'll force him if-"_

_"No."_

_The voice that spoke the single word that interrupted Sirius was said with so much conviction his heart broke from its meaning. Both adult wizards, practically enemies in normal circumstances who had come together for the child that had just come out from his bedroom, turned to find Harry still in his pyjamas shaking his head._

_"Harry," Severus started, but was again interrupted as Harry looked over the book and ritual Sirius had handed him._

_"I can't ask Malfoy, or any one to do this," the young wizard said with a pleading in his eyes that struck Severus to his core. It was their last chance and if Harry wasn't on board with it, it would mean…_

_"You can't give up," it was Sirius that said it because Severus already knew the answer. Harry wasn't giving up; he was choosing not to take anyone else down with him. While the ritual wouldn't likely kill the Malfoy heir, it would be unpleasant and probably painful for both teens. Not to mention they would all probably end up in Azkaban for it. "You know what will happen if you don't? Do you understand?"_

_Harry turned away from them, "Yes, I do. I'm going to die"._

_He wouldn't force Harry to do this. If he were going to force the Gryffindor to do anything, it should have been back when they were debating between the potions and chemotherapy. That crossroad was now long gone and he had to start accepting what was going to happen. He stood tall and confident, wrapping Harry in his strong arms and wasn't at all surprised when his son melted into them; something he hadn't done in years. They would be tested and challenged in the upcoming weeks, flowing fluidly between the stages of grief as they all adjusted to the news and realization of what was coming. Until finally on the 16th of May at half past three in the morning, it would all be over._

~~~~SS~~~~

**_Saturday 15 March, 1997_ **

The dynamic between Severus and Healer Walker changed dramatically after the professor's epiphany about the potions error from his old reality on that first day. He used to lecture his students every year on the importance of the correct ingredient preparations and the effect it had on the potion's final result, and the fact that his life had been upended from that same mistake, was almost too much to bear. Luckily, the healer had picked up on his grief - without any context to it - and did her best to stay out of his way for just about everything. It began to eat away at his mind until that was the only thought that was left. Harry had been getting better until they made that single change to his regimen and at that point, he'd trusted the procedure so outside of confirming what the ingredients would do, he didn't put much other thought into it. Had he taken the time to really do his own research on it and looked through each individual step, would he have found the error? He was the youngest Potion's Master in Britain, he should not have been bested by Matthew of all people.

Those first two days went agonizingly slow for the pair of prisoners, made more extreme by the utter silence between them. Severus failed the first batch of the main potion, to which he could tell Nadine had her doubts in his ability. He couldn't really blame her since he knew he didn't look any better than Neville Longbottom with that first failed batch.

In the end, he used as much Occlumency as he could to push aside the invasive thoughts of Harry - both in this reality and the current situation they faced as well as his old one - and of Draco, specifically when he would be going back to Hogwarts. Unfortunately, Lucius had not been any of the Death Eaters left to guard their little cell, so he hadn't been able to ascertain any information on how the young wizard had fared and the details on his latest mission. There was a silver lining to all of this, and that was after looking through everything that had happened, he was fairly confident that if he could ensure Draco's safety, Lucius would help him escape. That idea took over all the others in his mind and helped him stay focused as he completed the first half - the more complicated half - of the round of potions sometime around two o'clock that morning.

"I was thinking about something you mentioned before," he said to his cellmate over a bowl of porridge for their breakfast. Those words were the most unsolicited he'd said to her since he started brewing on Thursday. The pair were sitting on their respective beds where they took their meals in an effort to just get away from the potions workbench for a while. Outside of the times the healer had been called upon to tend to the Dark Lord, they had hardly left the brewing process.

"And what is that?" she asked from the other side of the room.

"By making those small adjustments to the potions," he tried to hold the grief from his voice, but did not succeed in the slightest, "we can use that to our advantage."

He'd gone through many of the ways he could use this knowledge and essentially poison the Dark Lord. The evil wizard couldn't die, of course, because of the soul fragment in Harry - the one he'd definitely not be able to research how to remove from inside his cell - but if they consistently caused the increase of Leukemia cells, when the soul fragment was removed, with any luck nature would catch up and Voldemort would simply die from the cancer. The best part was that the professor knew from experience that it wouldn't take much to tip the scale fatally in their favor and with a few other small alterations to the formulas, he could easily drag the process out a little slower so the decline wasn't nearly as drastic as the other Harry's had been. The only major flaw was too glaring not to notice though and of course, Nadine was right on him with it.

"Unless you want him to kill you," she said pointedly, "he needs to start getting _better,_ not worse. It's why Matthew was killed."

"Did Matthew actually make a set of potions that appeared correct?"

"Well…" she answered nervously, "not exactly."

" _That_ was what got Matthew killed," he replied and then conceded in one point, "though if done correctly, it can appear subtle at least at the beginning."

"It won't work like that," she shook her head, "as the Leukemia cells take over, the symptoms _will_ increase. There's no way to mask those while exacerbating the disease."

It was a flaw, however no plan was ever perfect at the start, and at this point they had time to figure out the minute details. If nothing else, it would give the former spy something to focus on besides his fatal error in his old reality, their current situation, Draco's next suicide mission, and how Harry was handling his last round of Phase Three chemotherapy. Today he would be learning what to expect in Maintenance and Severus had always assumed he'd be here with the young wizard as he had for every other phase. Now, not only was he not in the castle, but if he were, Harry wouldn't even want him there; a thought that was as equally overwhelming as knowing why Harry died in his old reality.

"It's a start," he told his cellmate a little frustrated with having to justify it to begin with, "and at this point, it's really the best one we have."

~~~~HP~~~~

"You need to eat, Harry," Professor McGonagall reminded the young Gryffindor at breakfast on Saturday morning as she placed a small cup of his morning tablets down. Somehow the fact that they knew his feeding tube was getting removed before today's chemotherapy made it seem more important to her that he finished his breakfast. "Dr Swanson will be here any minute."

For Harry, the last two days were a complete blur. For once, he had no problem adhering to his bed rest, however he'd not had more than a couple hours of sleep since he woke up Thursday morning magicless. Most of the time when he tried to fall asleep, his brain was either racing too fast with all the thoughts of things going on - primarily his magic and Snape, both because of his capture and the prophecy - or he was plagued with nightmares of the memories or visions he'd seen from Voldemort. He was tired, he was angry, and he had zero inclination to talk to anyone about it, no matter how many times his friends had asked.

So when McGonagall prompted him to finish his breakfast, he merely nodded, not trusting his voice to stay steady or himself not to lash out unintentionally at her. She was only really his guardian on paper after all and hadn't voluntarily signed up for any of this. It was simply the easiest way to keep the Boy-Who-Lived out of the Ministry's control and on July 31st, when he turned 17, he would officially be on his own as she would have no more ties to him either legally or as his Head of House. It should have made the conversation with Dr Swanson - when she did arrive only a few minutes later - all the more important to pay attention to, but he found himself having a difficult time concentrating as she sat across from him explaining what would happen starting next week while his one hour IV was working.

"Harry," the muggle doctor reached out and placed a hand on his knee. They were all in the sitting room which was already throwing him off as he was sitting perpendicular to the fireplace instead towards it as he would have been back home. "How have the last couple of days been?"

How did she think they'd been?! He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream, but instead he cleared his throat - that was now free from the nasogastric tube - and spoke almost in a trace, "It's been alright, I guess. As much as it can be given the circumstances."

"You know you can talk to me about it," Professor McGonagall added, "I'm always here to listen. I know how close you and Severus had gotten and now with the magic loss… it's a lot to sort through."

"Thank you, Minerva," he mumbled and then steeled his emotions further to get through the day, "I'm alright, though. Can we just talk about what's coming next?"

He knew the two women across from him didn't want to continue, that they wanted to ask him what was going on in his head with everything. If it were Alton sitting there about to go over his next phase it probably wouldn't have gone on any further, but Dr Swanson wasn't taking his dismissal.

"Have you been sleeping these last two nights?"

The pointed question threw him off balance. Why did she have to ask things so matter of factly? And then there was McGonagall's sad eyes looking guilty that she hadn't thought to ask him how he'd been sleeping. He didn't want to let her down.

"Of course I have," he lied, "I just need some time to… sort through everything going on."

"No one needs to know about your magic, Harry," McGonagall reassured him. And he nodded because that was what was expected of him. It was only a matter of time until the school picked up on what had happened. When he didn't show back up to classes next year, or the year after and he went to live in the muggle world, they would know.

"I'm going to leave something to help you sleep," she handed a small slip of paper to his guardian. "That's the name of an over the counter sleep aid. Cut the tablet in half and give it to him thirty minutes before bed." She paused and when it seemed no one had anything else to add, she continued with the purpose of her visit, "Today is your last round of Phase Three and it should be a relatively easy one for you.

"Then, on the 29th, in two weeks, given how positive today's test results were, you're going to officially start Maintenance. This phase will be done in what's called 'cycles' instead of rounds, and each cycle consists of 12-weeks which will be repeated for approximately three years from the start of Phase Two of consolidation."

"That's a scary number," Harry found himself saying out loud. "Is three years really necessary?"

"Unfortunately it is," she answered sympathetically. "Studies have shown that there's a high relapse rate if all of Maintenance is not completed, and for males that's three years worth of treatments."

"So what does this consist of?" McGonagall asked. While she'd been involved in the previous conversations like this, it was her first time being fully responsible for his schedule and even that wasn't really true. Snape had taken control of it in the past, but Harry needed to step up this time because in only a few short months, the witch would no longer be responsible for Harry.

"In some ways, it's far easier to understand," Dr Swanson gave a small smile, "however we see the most non-compliance in this phase because of how spread out the schedule is compared to your previous treatment. It's easy to forget tablet doses or miss IV treatments.

"As you can see, each cycle consists of a combination of three different chemotherapy tablets, three IV treatments - one per month - and two IT's in the first year dropping down to one per cycle for the final two years. Make sense so far?"

Harry thought hard about what she's just told him, knowing he'd need to manage this himself. Every three months he would start another cycle of Maintenance treatment and each month would have a set of three chemotherapy tablets, one or two IT, and one IV.

"Yeah," he confidently replied, looking down at the schedule he'd been given. "So far, so good."

"Perfect. We'll start with the tablets first and go easiest to hardest: you'll take one specific tablet every single night for the entirety of Maintenance phase. It should be taken about an hour after you eat dinner and I recommend, at least at the beginning, to set an alarm every night after you finish dinner and eventually it will become a habit.

"Then for the first five days of each month, to make it easy it will be the day you do your IV treatment plus the next four days, twice a day you'll take the same medication as at the beginning of this phase-" she noticed Harry's exasperated face and added, "- yes, it's the one that made you irritable, but you're only doing five days of it with three weeks in between, and only two tablets instead of three per day, so hopefully you'll have a better reaction. If not, let me know and we can look at ways to help."

"Thank you," the young wizard mumbled because the last thing he wanted was a week out of each month spent being as aggressive as he was back in the beginning of February.

"The last tablet you'll have will be one on the first of each week between the IV treatments," she flipped over the schedule and Harry did the same. "The IVs are easy to remember. They're only once per month and I have you scheduled to do them on Saturday mornings so you'll have the weekend to recover and hopefully you'll be able to get back to some kind of 'new normal' once you finish the adjustment period. So one cycle will be three rounds of IV treatments followed by three Saturdays open, which is when you'll take the third tablet: on each of those open Saturdays.

"Lastly, the intrathecal treatments. For the first year, or four cycles, you'll do an IT with your first two IV treatments. For cycles five to twelve, it will only be the first IV of the cycle, or once every three months."

Not for the first time Harry wished Snape was here. He always knew exactly what to say when he'd felt so overwhelmed by the schedule. Just as Dr Swanson said, it was a more complicated schedule to keep track of with the two switching tablets every month, but the rest was easier: IVs once a month and ITs once - or twice for the first year - every three months.

"So then after the IV treatment on the 29th, I won't see you again until…." he trailed off in thought.

"You won't see me for a whole month," Dr Swanson laughed. "Believe it or not, Harry, the best part of my job is watching a patient walk away and not having to see them again."

He could understand that and looked forward to the day when that would be him.

"What are the odds that it will come back?" Harry found himself asking. He knew it had to be a common question, but he felt himself flush with embarrassment by how juvenile it sounded.

"In patients who finish all of Maintenance," she emphasized the word _all_ , "then over nine times out of ten, we don't see a relapse."

That was enough to fuel him for the rest of the day. Yes, he still had a long way to go - years ahead of him still - but the light at the end of the tunnel was there if he could stay positive and focused, and make sure he made his appointments. The best part though, and what he tried to stay focused on, was after the eight weeks he's just gone through, he had two full weeks coming up without a single thing going on, not even classes.

* * *

"Any word on Draco," Harry asked Dudley when his cousin stopped by to see him later that evening. The nausea had started to hit him and somehow he got the feeling his friends had made some kind of rotation to visit with him ever since things with Snape happened. It was Dudley's turn and they were now playing a game of Wizards Chess that Dudley absolutely loved.

"Not much," Dudley replied, "the most we've heard is talk of him back at his mansion. Hermione's a right mess over it all."

"I just can't think that he had anything to do with all of this," Harry said, as he leaned back against his bed trying to push through the nausea, "he was with me most of the night, plus he didn't even know I was going to take him to the Room of Requirement."

"Dunno what to tell you, Harry," the other boy said. "It's your turn, by the way."

The Gryffindor was completely unfocused on the board between them and his pieces were getting antsy waiting on their next move.

"Sorry, guys," Harry said to the board, "we're done for the day." All the little pieces started shuffling along as they made their way back, all the while complaining about the unfinished game. "As if I need anyone else to disappoint."

Dudley gave his cousin the exact look that Harry absolutely hated, before he said, "Maybe you and me should just leave here? I've been thinking about what I'm going to do after this year, if I don't want to stay as a teaching assistant, and now with Professor Snape gone and your…"

"Magic gone," Harry finished for the other boy, "you can say it, Dudley. I have to get used to it at some point."

"Err….well, yeah," he replied, "We can get jobs, and a flat somewhere together. My parents left some money behind for me, it's not a lot, but enough to get us started."

Harry looked down at his intertwined hands. He didn't know what to think about Dudley's offer; it was one of the nicest things his cousin had ever offered. Unfortunately before he could answer, he ended up sick in the pail without even bothering to get out of bed. Dudley briefly left and came back with a goblet of ginger ale.

"Thanks," the young wizard said after taking a sip and feeling his stomach starting to settle, "I'll keep that in mind, but with only a muggle primary school education, I'm not exactly sure what jobs I'll be qualified to get."

"Good point. I dunno how that works."

Harry wasn't sure either and he was trying not to think too much about it now. Most people who left Hogwarts didn't attempt to get jobs in the muggle world, but he would have a minimum of three years before he could unlock his other magic - assuming Snape didn't die from Voldemort before telling someone how to release the soul fragment - and he'd have to do _something_ in all of that time that didn't include sitting around waiting for his monthly treatment. Not only that, he still had Voldemort trying to kill him - the irony of which almost made him laugh - and he'd need to stay inside the school wards to be protected. That left only one option: staying with McGonagall, or maybe his own set of quarters, continuing to get his chemotherapy here at that castle.

"And what about Susan?" Harry asked to try and change the subject. "You don't want to stay here for her last year?"

Immediately, Dudley flushed, "Well, I don't really know…"

Harry gave a small chuckle, not because of how embarrassed his cousin was, but because it was sort of endearing to see Dudley so comfortable with Hogwarts as well as with himself. Susan - more so than any of the other Hufflepuff girls in his year - would help keep his muggle cousin grounded and bring out the best in the teen. Harry didn't necessarily know anything about his cousin's past relationships and that was a sad reality due to their past; something both teens had put behind them months ago. Harry would never be able to forget how he'd been treated, but it was just in his nature to give people a second - or third or fourth - chance even if they didn't necessarily deserve it. Snape would tell him it was because of his neglected upbringing and that was a truth Harry had a hard time rationalizing. Trying not to focus on the negative, deciding he had enough of that in his mind already, he listened to Dudley tell him all about his Muggle Studies classes, how things were going with Susan Bones, and picturing just what living on his own with Dudley - without Voldemort hanging over his head - could look like. Before he managed to fall asleep in the middle of their one-sided conversation, he thought the picture in his head of the two of them living together in a flat in London didn't sound too bad after all.

~~~~SS~~~~

"Get up!"

Severus was knocked awake rather pointedly around seven in the evening on Saturday. He'd finally finished up the last of the potions required for the first week sometime around three that afternoon. With no windows - real or enchanted - he was able to get at least a couple of hours of sleep before his rather harsh awakening by none other than Lucius Malfoy.

He cracked his eyes open to the Patriarch's same pale and pointed face as Draco's, only his was filled with aged lines giving away his years of stress that the other wizard tried diligently not to show. The professor wasn't a stranger to those lines, having plenty of his own in both realities, this one from the Dark Lord and from Harry in his old reality. He found he much preferred those of his old reality because it meant his life was filled with meaning - worry and concern over his son - and the former spy found himself questioning what caused Lucius's lines. Severus's future plans depended on taking advantage of the concern he saw Lucius had for Draco, so he truly hoped they were also related to his son.

Casually, he sat up in his bed making no move to show that the other wizard elicited a sense of panic within him; Severus refused to give anyone that much control over his own actions. Yes, he'd ultimately obey because right now his purpose required him to stay alive, however he wouldn't give his captors the satisfaction of causing him anxiety over the situation. Nadine, he noticed, did not share his mentality as she quickly jumped out of her bed the moment Lucius started talking.

"I'm to take you both to the Dark Lord. He's expecting me in a matter of minutes," his former colleague cryptically explained. To Severus, that meant he was getting told that they didn't have long to talk. "I trust the potions are completed."

Without looking towards the stock, which was exactly what Lucius would have expected him to do thus giving away their status, he said, "You've given me three days to brew eight extremely difficult potions, a task that _his_ previous brewer couldn't do over a course of several months."

A sinister smile crossed the blonde's face, "And I have no doubt you've been able to complete them."

The air between them practically stood still as they continued to stare at one another; Lucius standing ominously over the professor who was still seated on his mattress. Both wizards had learned how to survive through experiences in the harshest of environments and at first neither was willing to give in. Severus would have bet his measly vault amount that he'd have to break the silence first, so when Lucius spoke next it legitimately surprised him.

"He's getting sent back tomorrow," the Death Eater stealthily said. The former spy took notice that it would be a day later than the Dark Lord's original demand, and wondered what caused the delay. "I've been told alternative arrangements had been made on my family's account. Narcissa has given me a great deal of… things to consider as I've now inadvertently endangered those plans."

Unless he could find some way to communicate with Dumbledore, he would guarantee Draco would be detained probably indefinitely by the Order - Moody specifically - and their plans to go into hiding would fall through. By now the guard had to have seen Draco somewhere on the premises here and the teen would be assumed to be part of his capture. No one would give the teen the benefit of the doubt that he was in an impossible situation and needed help, but if he could get the Malfoys into hiding as planned before the Dark Lord's patience on Harry's capture, then it would save both of his students' lives.

"Do you know any of the details?" It was a risk asking Lucius to trust him so bluntly and Nadine's confused expression spotlighted that fact.

"He'll be dropped first thing in the morning," Lucius lowered his voice as he took a quick check over his shoulder. "They've altered the bracelet to act as surveillance. No one's been told if there's an audio or visual component, or both."

So he needed to assume it was both, however knowing Rabastan's level of charms he more likely than not botched the visual component. It would be too much of a risk to assume that, which meant whatever was said or done had to appear as natural as possible. Leaving only one option - his distress call.

When Severus started his life as a double agent in the first war, Albus provided him a way to tell the leader of the Order when he was currently under duress; that he was being used or monitored, but not necessarily that his cover had been compromised. It seemed nebulous at the time as he always assumed if it was ever needed, he'd be long dead before he got a chance to use it. Now, it would work in his benefit because when Albus recognized the, hopefully not long forgotten, gesture and phrase he would know that Draco was still on their side, however they needed to act accordingly or risk compromising the teen.

"He'll be detained," Severus said point blank, "and interrogated more so than he had ever been before."

"I am aware of that fact," revulsion crossed the blonde's face and the professor wasn't sure if it was at the Order or the Dark Lord. "It's probably for the best. Once his _incentive_ is here, there is nothing left to keep Draco alive."

Severus emitted a low growl; Harry was not some chess piece being played for each sides' strategic benefit. In chess, pieces were often sacrificed for the greater good and he refused to let the Gryffindor get used like that. He didn't want to let Draco be used that way either, however that was already impossible. Sticking to his tried and true method of solving the problem directly in front of him, lest he feel overwhelmed by the sheer vastness of their predicament, he focused on getting Draco - and his parents - into hiding. If he could secure that, somehow with a Death Eater watching and or listening, he would consider it a miracle; and Severus didn't believe in miracles.

"Listen carefully, I will only say this once and there's a very large chance it won't work, but it's the best choice you have," the former Death Eater told his friend. "He needs to spill a pot of ink and then tell the headmaster, and this is important, 'I'm afraid you'll need to get another pot of ink'."

Immediately Severus knew the wizard standing in front of him thought he'd lost his mind. Instead of stating such a fact though, he lifted his head just enough for Severus to know he'd understood. When the professor stood to get the potions, Healer Walker was watching him intently like she saw him as a traitor to the small camaraderie they managed to build in their prison cell. With the box of phials in his hands, he nodded that he was ready to face the Dark Lord and whatever was coming his way.

"What do you think you're doing?!" The healer angrily whispered to him as they were walking down the quiet, dark corridor heading, predictably, to the drawing room. "He's one of them."

"I'm getting us allies," he whispered back, keeping a close eye on Lucius marching behind them, "which is the only way we have any chance of getting out here alive once the Dark Lord is cured." He paused as they made a hard turn, approaching their destination before adding, "And don't forget, I used to be one of them… and the more you know about your opponent, the better off you are."

The fact that Severus had been good enough to complete the complicated potions in only three days time meant nothing as he kneeled before the Dark Lord to present them, and he'd been vaguely ignored as the healer went to work. This was his first time seeing Healer Walker in action, though she'd been summoned each day from their cell to tend to the ill wizard, and he was surprised at how alert and professional she managed to stay given the circumstances of her imprisonment. He was brought back to the vision Harry had back in November about her capture - and Lucius's role in it, giving a bit more context to her animosity towards the Malfoy heir - and he was filled with a deep sorrow about how long she'd been here. The Order hadn't tried to rescue her as they did the Smithe's and now he felt a sense of responsibility and duty to get them out of there safely.

_Draco's safety first, which will lead to Harry's safety, and then I can get us out of here._

It was a perfectly laid out plan, which naturally meant there was no chance of it actually happening so seamlessly. The first snag was predictable, even if it occurred far earlier than he had expected. As Healer Walker explained each potion, its purpose, and dosage, the Dark Lord because irate at the fact that he'd need to take these eight potions daily for the next two or three years. Later, Severus would look back at what he did next with embarrassment thinking that somehow Harry's Gryffindor tendency had rubbed off onto him somehow.

"You have a _muggle_ disease," the former Death Eater called out just seconds before the evil wizard cast the Cruciatus Curse on the healer for nothing more than being the bearer of news he didn't like, "did you really think you'd take one set of potions and be done with it?"

The curse that was meant for Nadine was then turned onto him, but instead of the Cruciatus he was preparing for, he heard a loud _crack_ as the bone in his left leg was instantly broken and he fell to the ground. Fighting the urge to pass out from the pain, he used his Occlumency to stay present and awake, refusing to give the Dark Lord that satisfaction. Unfortunately, that meant he was awake for the rest of his supposedly deserved punishment.

"You didn't have to do that," the healer later said as she tended to his broken femur as well as the plethora of cuts and bruises some of his other choice words had earned him, "it's not like I hadn't been subjected to the Cruciatus before."

He didn't doubt that and he thought she probably would have been better off dead than living under the conditions he was sure she had been in all of these months. He had enough self-preservation not to say that to the woman currently healing him the best she could without a wand - and a femur was harder to wandlessly heal than a rib, so, at best, he'd be limping on it for a couple of days - and with a basic supply of healing potions.

"I'm fine," he claimed and declined the use of any of their limited potions, "the rest will heal on their own."

"Your choice," she said, almost defeated, going back to her bed. "What do we do now? There's no way we can make the potions work faster, it's just not possible."

It was their latest "task" assigned to the pair during the week before the next set of potions were needed: to decrease the time it took for the regimen to work in clearing the Leukemia.

"We poison him by using the old method of the main potion. I have it on good authority that it will take approximately six weeks for the Leukemia cells to reach maximum damage," Severus directly said, ignoring the frustrated face of his cellmate.

"For being the 'youngest Potion's Master in Britain'-" she used air quotes as she said it, "-you sure are daft... That. Will. Make. Him. Sicker."

Her emphasis on the last five words only made the plan in his head sound more enticing. Somewhere in the middle of the curses and hexes thrown at him by the Dark Lord earlier, he'd come up with this crazy idea. It was a last chance effort - as it was when he'd searched for it originally in his old reality - but he had determined that while it would probably get him killed in the end, it would allow them the time to secretly poison the Dark Lord to the point where no potions could help and he'd basically live the rest of his life in misery; it would slow him and the Death Eaters down and right now that's what the Order needed. For the best outcome, he wished he could find a way to have Minerva research how to remove the soul fragment safely sooner rather than later, even though it would risk Harry's magic in the future. The tides had turned away from their favor and he couldn't risk Harry's life for his magic and therefore the Dark Lord had to go as quickly as possible.

"Then we buy our time as long as we can. I happen to know about a very specific ritual which will help mask the fatal threshold of the Leukemia cells. If we play our hand right, we can convince him it will shorten the duration of his potions," he replied and smiled at the healer across from him that he was sure would only aid in her questioning of his stable mental health. "What do you know about the _Blood Cleansing Ritual_?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Please Understand
> 
> Warning Note: If you chose not to read the AU memory, it was about Harry receiving his terminal diagnosis. That night, Severus remembers the two books Lucius tried to give him back at the Malfoy Christmas party, so he goes there desperate to try anything that could save Harry - even Dark Magic. After he gets back, he pours through the book and finds a "Blood Cleansing Ritual" that would essentially clear the cancer from Harry's blood temporarily. The procedure requires a donor who has Pureblood (which unfortunately Severus doesn't have) and fulfills a series of astrological requirements (you can read the actual ritual in the non-italicized part of the AU). It doesn't take long for him to come to the conclusion that Draco is a perfect match. Sirius finds the book and demands they do it, but when Harry finds out he refuses; coming to terms with his own impending death. It also mentions again that Harry's date and time of death is around 3:30am on the 16th of May.
> 
> Disclaimer: The credit for the Blood Ritual goes to french_charlotte
> 
> A/N: Sorry for all the notes!
> 
> To see what one cycle (12 weeks) of Harry's Maintenance would look like, remove the spaces from the link below:
> 
> https : // flic . kr / p / 2jNHgBD
> 
> To see what the treatment schedule looks like, remove the spaces from the link below:
> 
> https : // flic . kr / p / 2jNMEJ6


	68. Please Understand

~~~~SS~~~~

"This is going to get us sent straight to Azkaban, you know," Nadine complained while they both sat over the workbench and Severus wrote down what he remembered from the ritual in his old reality. In hindsight, he was ashamed of himself for even considering using this on his son. At the time, lost in the freshness of the news that Harry was dying and his own grief from it, this seemed like a fully viable option, however now it was barbaric and cruel to both parties.

"Offering the option of the ritual alone will not send you Azkaban." He was really getting tired of her negativity. She may not feel the need to escape, but he wanted to do whatever it took to take down the Dark Lord.

"And who do you think will be making these incisions and collecting the chalices of blood?" She rhetorically asked. "How do you even know about this anyways- actually, don't tell me." Severus glared at her without lifting his head and she intelligently dropped that line of thinking. "How do you expect to offer this as a solution if you don't remember all of it?"

Having broken the last of his already anxious nerves, he turned around to face the healer, and in a his most intimidating 'I can't believe I have to deal with your idiocrasy' voice, said, "First, you're being held captive by the darkest wizard of our time, I don't foresee you having any difficulties convincing the Wizengamot that you were forced to partake in the ritual. Thus, you will not go to Azkaban.

"Second, I don't necessarily need to have the instructions written verbatim. I guarantee you the Dark Lord has enough resources in dark magic available to him to find the ritual and will verify its validity well before you're asked to make a single incision."

The healer huffed indignantly and left to sit back on her mattress on the right side of the small room. There was a painful silence that almost suffocated the pair, only broken by the scratching of Severus's quill as he feverishly wrote out every detail he could remember.

"Why do you still call him the _Dark Lord_?"

Severus stopped writing the second the question was asked; there was fear in her voice that chilled him inside. How long had she been afraid of him? Since the moment she saw his dark mark? Had she thought he'd been sent there to do what, spy on her? Hopefully taking a good dozen curses in front of her had relieved any doubts she may have had about him, but as much as he wanted to, he could not ignore her question. In addition to building a plan to take down the Dark Lord and creating allies within the manor, he needed to have trust between the two of them which would not be achievable if she was afraid of him being a Death Eater. For the rest of his life, people would judge and fear him at just the sight of his mark.

Treading carefully, trying not to intentionally disrupt the delicate balance they'd managed to build between them, the former Death Eater took a cleansing breath before lamely answering, "Old habits die hard."

"Well," she retorted back, "it makes you sound like you're still one of them."

He didn't necessarily expect that answer to be acceptable, he had to try though.

"I don't find it much different then how others refer to him as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or the childish You-Know-Who," he challenged back.

"It's completely different," the healer retorted, almost insulted herself, "you're giving him respect through that name and he deserves no such thing."

She was right, it was all about respect, however he wasn't about to admit it to her. Each new Death Eater - marked or unmarked - quickly learned that using any other name than "Dark Lord" or "My Lord" was a valid punishable offense. Severus was lucky and learned quickly, though he'd seen many new followers not pick it up as easily.

"It's ingrained early on," he decided to answer with, "and it's as simple as that, those who adapt early have a far less painful start to their servitude than those who do not."

The implied message was loud and clear to the healer who stared back at him with her sympathetic blue eyes that reminded him too much of the appointment where they learned Harry's cancer was terminal. It made him uncomfortable and he lost his focus on the task at hand. Dropping his quill onto the parchment, he walked to his own mattress and unceremoniously dropped onto it, leaning his back against the wall with his legs spread out in front of him and his ankles crossed. Closing his eyes, he let his exhaustion from the odd working hours, constant worrying, and painful torture he just endured flood over him.

"How did _he_ manage to get Leukemia?" She asked the professor as if she knew he had the answer; which he did, but there was no way she would know that. "Seems a bit odd to me that in the same year the Boy-Who-Lived and You-Know-Who get the same very rare muggle disease."

Raising a single eyebrow and with it cracking his eye opened, he replied, "You're just full of demanding questions today, aren't you?"

She gave a small chuckle at his sarcastic response, "It's not everyday I have a defected Death Eater for a roommate. I figured I should take advantage of it while I can."

He narrowed his eyes questioning to himself how many roommates she'd had besides himself and Matthew, but then realized he didn't really want to know that answer. With any luck, he would be the last because they'd be getting out. Turning his thoughts back to her question, he considered how honest he should be in answering it.

"The Dark-" he paused taking into consideration the conversation they'd previously had, "he used Harry Potter's blood when resurrecting his body. It gave him certain… benefits that he could not have achieved with another's blood. No one, from either side, expected Leukemia to be hiding in that blood."

He wasn't surprised when she quickly made the connection, her specialty was muggle diseases after and she knew Leukemia was a blood cancer.

"How's Harry been handling his treatments?" She carefully asked, "from what I read he chose the muggle medications?"

Severus nodded his head, "You don't stop asking questions do you?"

"Guilty," she nervously replied, "I was a Ravenclaw after all. And for some reason, since I read that Skeeter article, I've felt oddly connected to his case. I mean, I'm surprised I wasn't called in when he went to St. Mungo's for his diagnosis and then-"

"That's because he was not taken to St. Mungo's. I took him to a muggle hospital where a friend of mine works, a wizard practicing in the muggle world," the professor interrupted. He briefly considered the fact that as Ravenclaws, Healer Walker may have known Dr Swanson's muggleborn older brother, but he chose to table that inquiry for a later time. "And he's doing well with them. He should be starting the last, but longest, phase later this month."

The grief could be heard seeping out of his voice and he didn't even try to hide it. This was supposed to be a time where they could have finally fallen into some sort of long-term normalcy. Until now, their time had been broken up by a new round of chemotherapy every week - or sometimes a bit longer - and now that they would have actually had time to adjust to regular living, it had been ripped away from him. He had told Harry he would take the young wizard to Godric's Hollow to see where his parents had been laid to rest. It was completely inappropriate now given the circumstances, but it was something he had wanted to do for the Gryffindor. If Minerva, Albus, or even Molly Weasley hadn't thought about taking him as of yet, they certainly wouldn't now.

Then there was Healer Walker's declaration that she felt a connection to Harry in this reality having no idea about her true connection to him in the old reality. The professor had been keeping track of the deja vu experiences that had been occurring in a higher frequency lately and this would be a large one to add. As the dates ticked off and they approached the two dates he feared the most this year - 10 April, and 16 May; the day they got Harry's terminal diagnosis and the day he died, respectively - Severus had been getting increasingly nervous. No matter how much he tried to stop it, the grief would settle into him on each of those days. It was bound to happen, and likely would every year on those anniversaries regardless of what happened in this reality, yet he couldn't help thinking the deja vu he'd been having was telling him _something_ would happen on those dates here, and he was dreading finding out whatever that was.

"So now we wait?" Nadine gestured her head towards the potions bench where his crude procedure for the _Blood Cleansing Ritual_ was hastily written out. She'd aptly picked up on his sorrow and dropped the difficult subjects.

"For now, I continue making potions, the _correct_ way," he said, closing his eyes again having no intentions of starting them when the Dark Lord wouldn't need them for another week, "and we wait until we're called upon for an answer."

* * *

**_Wednesday 19, March 1997_ **

For Severus, he wouldn't see outside of his cell again until Wednesday night, which was generous considering there wasn't really any reason for him to ever need to leave the small room since Nadine could deliver the potions each week alongside her daily visit with the dark wizard. In any other circumstances, he would have found the constant visits with the healer amusing because even Harry didn't need to see his doctor daily - in either reality - especially when he wasn't having any treatments. The fact that the Dark Lord required such attention was a bit humorous. What wasn't humorous was the Cruciatus Curse he was subjected to the moment he was forced to kneel by Dolohov before Voldemort; permanently staying in his cell was looking better and better.

The former Death Eater didn't get a good look around the room, but did take a quick notice of the participants for whatever he was brought there for. In addition to Dolohov, who was the Death Eater to show up and collect him that night, Lucius, Bellatrix and Rodolphus, Yaxley, Crabbe, and Goyle all stood behind the Dark Lord. Rabastan's lack of presence didn't go unnoticed; he had been tasked at keeping a close surveillance - in a way the professor still hadn't figured out - on Draco during his time back at Hogwarts. None of the Death Eaters were in the traditional Death Eater attire, showing that this little rendezvous was nothing official; it was simply a time to they could come torture their traitor. Inwardly, Severus groaned, refusing to show any outward weakness to the group surrounding him. With his leg still recovering from last Saturday's break, his heart rate increased in anticipation for what they had in store for him.

"What have you brought for me?" The Dark Lord demanded. No further explanation was required.

"In five days?" The former spy sarcastically asked. It wasn't the smartest answer and it earned him a stinging hex to his shoulder. If the Dark Lord kept this up, he'd be lucky to be able to finish preparing the ingredients for Saturday's potions. "There's nothing _I_ can do to the potions to still keep the efficacy of the regimen and speed up the results-" he saw the ivory wand lift and he sped up his talking, "-however there is another solution you could use alongside the potions."

"I've always found it inspiring how a little pain can make people remember the smallest, yet usually most important, details," the serpentine wizard started to circle the professor, "continue, Severus."

"It's a Blood Cleansing Ritual," he pulled out the parchment he'd been slowly adding to as he remembered details during the week, preparing for when this exact time arrived.

"Putting your new… position… to good use, I see," the Dark Lord took the parchment and handed it to Lucius who walked forward upon hearing the, most likely familiar, ritual name. Unfortunately, the Malfoy patriarch would not find the tome holding this particular ritual in his possession as it was still in Severus's quarters at Hogwarts; likely without the blonde's knowledge.

"Repeating this ritual every other night," Severus continued to explain every so often making eye contact with Lucius, "will help aid the potions and cut down the time frame you'll be dependent on them."

The silver eyes staring back at him narrowed, but did not call him out on the lie. To Severus, this was another step in solidifying the partnership between the two of them. This was good, he wasn't lying when he'd told Nadine that they needed allies on this side if they had any chance of escaping. First and foremost, the former spy was a realist and knew the Order's chances of getting in here alone were small and with the Dark Lord having plans to take over the Ministry, the Aurors wouldn't be any more helpful than the Death Eaters. Ultimately, they needed more than the Patriarch, especially considering he may go into hiding in the, hopefully very near, future, but sticking to solving one problem at a time, this was a good start; Lucius would open the doors to other potential allies.

"I am familiar with this ritual, my Lord," Lucius said while looking over the parchment. "I can start validating and compiling the necessary tools and assuming we don't need to-" he paused for dramatic effect, "-forcibly secure a host with the proper Astrological requirements, it should not take much time to prepare."

The professor had to use his Occlumency to keep the guilt out of his mind and off of his face. He had no idea what the other Death Eaters and their families - the first people Lucius and the Dark Lord would look at, thankfully Severus himself was half-blood otherwise he would be bled to death over this - were astrologically, but he knew for a fact that Draco was a perfect match. Hopefully the young Slytherin would be well hidden by the time anyone found out and Voldemort would have no one to blame except himself for sending the teenager back to secure Harry. A wave of sorrow filled the professor, even as he was kneeling on the floor in the dining room, for his young protégé. If his duress signal worked - assuming they placed the young Slytherin in a room with an ink pot at some point in the last three days - there would be no way for Albus to signal that he'd heard the message and the isolation from that unknown was more than enough to mess with even the best operative's mind. From that point on, the Order would not be able to do or say anything they didn't want to end up in the Dark Lord's hands, and that would include easing Draco's anxiety that he'd been heard and a new exit strategy was in the works. Until he was released, the teen wouldn't know who was on his side and who was against him. It would be detrimental to a scared - though he wouldn't admit to such - sixteen year old.

The circle of Death Eaters closed in on him as the potential solution to the Dark Lord's quandary had been, at least for now, solved and their traitor had served his current purpose. Not one of them cared that he still needed to make the potions each week and so he did the only thing he could in the situation: he clenched his jaw in preparation for whatever may come next.

~~~~HP~~~~

As much as Harry hated to admit it, the muggle sleeping aid Dr Swanson suggested helped to take some of the edge off and fight the insomnia the young wizard hadn't even realized had become such a problem.

By Thursday, he was well rested and recovered enough from Saturday's chemotherapy for the reality to sink in that he was almost officially in Maintenance and didn't have any chemotherapy - tablets, IV, or IT - until the day before Easter, which didn't bother him nearly as much as his Christmas treatments did. His friends wanted to celebrate, and he really did too, but he kept coming back to the fact that deep down he wanted Snape there. It was like the fact that the man had been taken so quickly away from him - not unlike his parents who had been targeted because of the professor - that now he found himself wishing he was there. Somehow the Gryffindor knew that Snape would understand his reluctance to celebrate this latest milestone and would have known exactly what to say to make Harry feel better about the whole thing, not to mention he'd have plenty to add about Harry's lack of magic and school schedule. Overall, he had one major win to celebrate, but too many other negatives that kept him boggled down. At least he could sleep though and for that he was happy muggles came up with a non-addictive sleep aid; maybe wizards could learn from whatever was inside that half a tablet he took each night this week.

Living with McGonagall came with its own set of challenges and adjustments. It felt very different moving in with his guardian than first living with Snape at either Privet Drive or in the dungeons. The biggest adjustment, and yet one that should not have surprised him as much as it did, was that living with a witch - and an elderly one at that - had far more sentimental undertones than he was used to. Still immensely grateful for her taking him in and all of her help, he felt guilty every time her sad eyes saw him pushing his dinner across his plate or each morning when she placed his morning medications next to his breakfast. It was like he was constantly letting down the grandmother he'd never had before.

Until the week away, the young wizard hadn't realized how comfortable he'd gotten in Snape's quarters. Though he didn't mind staying with McGonagall- even starting to like the actual windows instead of the enchanted ones - and the layout being so similar to Snape's should have helped him adjust, he found himself feeling homesick for the dungeons and it frustrated him. He wanted to be angry at Snape - he _was_ angry at the man - for not caring that he was about to kill a child so a megalomaniac could take over the wizarding world. Instead, Harry found himself missing whatever it was he'd managed to build with the professor and no matter how many times he tried to explain his consternation to his friends, they just couldn't understand. They all had a family built on a foundation of unconditional love; there was nothing Ron or his parents could ever do that wouldn't be forgiven between them, and Harry never had that; he never would have that unless he somehow survived all of this and managed to have a child of his own someday.

Those were the thoughts he was plagued with all day Thursday as he tried to keep his wandering mind occupied in the midst of not having classes any longer. Dr Swanson fully released him from quarantine as of yesterday, however Harry had no real inclination to leave. With no classes to attend - though McGonagall insisted he would have a set schedule of private lessons to fill his time after the Easter holiday - and not in the mood for the crowded Great Hall, he hung around the professor's quarters sketching most of the day or trying to find something interesting to read from the small library in the sitting room. Though it was nowhere near as impressive in size as Snape's personal library, it had more than just reference texts and journals giving the young wizard some hope in finding a way to pass the time before the holiday where he fully intended to spend it with his friends before Maintenance started; maybe even getting to spend a night or two sleeping in the Tower.

Normally, each night McGonagall stopped by shortly after dinner to check on Harry before heading out for what the Gryffindor wizard assumed was an Order meeting to help find Snape, often not returning until after he'd gone to bed. On that night though, his guardian had come in with Moody limping in her wake, after Harry had just finished his own dinner and was sitting on the sofa - he preferred the one on the left, which looked towards where the enchanted window would have been back home, or in the dungeons - sketching a picture of himself with his parents. Until everything that had happened with Snape, the young wizard had avoided drawing this specific group because of the intense sorrow it filled him with inside. He'd wanted his parents by him so many times since his Leukemia diagnosis and seeing a modern picture of the three of them was more than he thought he could handle. However, now he invited in the grief and wanted it to settle into his chest. No one would ever understand how "right" it felt to sometimes just let it consume him.

"Hello, Harry," McGonagall greeted him as she walked through the sitting room towards the office behind him, stopping just past the sofa, "how are you feeling today?"

"I'm alright," he answered honestly, covering up his sketch from the two Order members. Moody gave him an odd look before nodding his head as his own greeting and Harry remembered that it was really his first time seeing the former auror since his diagnosis. The only benefit to being the Boy-Who-Lived was it gave him plenty of practice in people staring at him, only now instead of people staring at his scar - that he used to be able to cover with his long raven hair - it was his almost skeletal frame, pallid drawn face, and bald head that drew the unwanted attention. At least he didn't have the feeding tube any longer, and Dr Swanson had said there was a good chance his hair would start to grow back during Maintenance Phase, so overall things were looking up.

"Did you eat dinner?" The Transfiguration Professor practically lectured. Harry smiled at Moody's hard eye roll behind the witch's back.

"Yes, I ate dinner," he replied, then after seeing the next question in her eyes, he quickly added, "really, I did. I promise."

"Good," she patted his shoulder, giving Harry that grandmother feel again, "we'll just be a minute and then I'm needed with Albus."

"S'ok," the young wizard responded and nervously asked, "is there any progress on Professor Snape?"

"That, young man," Moody finally spoke up after emitting several growls throughout the short conversation, "is not your concern right now. Minerva, if we may? I'd like to get going."

The older wizard gestured to the office and Harry obediently turned back towards his sketching. The most he could hear were murmurs coming from the office, but when the door popped open slightly he was in the perfect spot to pick up on their conversation that they'd not likely expected to have at that moment.

"What do you expect, Alastor?" It was McGonagall he heard first and immediately paused his pencil. Based on the rustling around the small office, it sounded like his guardian was searching for something.

"I think we need more time to be sure…"

"More time?" He'd heard that voice from McGonagall before, it was the one she used when she was standing up for someone else's well-being; the same one she used when lecturing Snape after she caught them dueling in January. "It's been four days! What else do you expect to find?"

He couldn't hear the response from the auror, however based on his grumbling he definitely did not agree with the professor.

"He's been held captive," the Scottish witch exclaimed, "he has no wand, and there has been no indication of any nefarious intentions. Not to mention Albus has agreed that after tonight, there's nothing further we can do with him present."

"Albus has also refused the use of veritaserum," Moody challenged gruffly.

There was a long pause and Harry resisted the urge to turn around knowing that Moody would definitely notice and then he'd close the apparently unknown gap in their silencing wards. Instead, the Gryffindor wizard continued to sketch like nothing had happened.

"And you know the reasons, Alastor. We cannot hold him captive until we figure out a new plan," she lectured. "That's just not right, he's been through enough."

Harry found himself hoping they were talking about Snape. Perhaps they found him, but they needed to make sure he was safe to return? If so, then based on the conversation, he should be back tonight or tomorrow at the latest. Harry dropped his pencil as he considered what he'd do knowing the man who betrayed him was back in the castle and he could easily go and figure all this mess out. Did he want to forgive Snape?

The sound of his pencil hitting the floor made a louder _click_ than he would have expected, likely increased by his desire not to draw attention to his eavesdropping.

"Here's the book you've so elegantly requested," McGonagall sharply said and with a hard _thud_ Harry could almost see her pushing it into his chest.

The door to the office fully opened and light flooded out before the lanterns were extinguished with a quick swish of the professor's hand. Harry had already picked up his pencil and was back to sketching when the two Order members appeared to his right.

"I'll probably be back late again tonight, Harry, so no need to wait up," his guardian said with a tinge of sadness laced in her voice. "Are your friends coming by again?"

Harry nodded, "I think Dudley will be here later."

"Perfect," she replied, "I've left your sleeping tablets out on the kitchen counter, you take a half thirty minutes before going to bed."

"I know," she'd done that for him every night this week and each night she'd told him exactly where to find it and how to take it. He got the feeling it was more for her benefit than his, so he didn't mention the needless repetition. "Thank you, Minerva. Good luck tonight."

"Thank you," she gave him a warm smile, "Good night, Harry."

She took off towards the entryway, but this time Moody did not immediately follow. The former auror paused giving Harry another strange look that sent chills through Harry's spine. _He knows I heard them!_ Harry thought with a panic.

"Nice picture, Potter," Moody's rough voice said. "You have a good talent there."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied as he felt his ears flush. Moody left a moment later, but unfortunately, after that encounter he wasn't up to continue his work.

As they'd promised, his friends had rotated in and out most nights of the week and between their classes, taking turns to help keep Harry's mind as occupied as possible. It was really the first time this year that his life had any semblance of normalcy compared to the previous five years at Hogwarts, if he could ignore the fact that he was in his Head of House's quarters.

On Thursday nights, Harry knew Hermione had Prefect duties and Ron was in Quidditch practice, so when the parchment popped up in front of his face announcing a visitor he didn't even look at it, naturally assuming it would be Dudley. Whenever the two cousins had been alone, Harry had used that time to talk to him about what their life in the muggle world could look like if he never got the rest of his magic back. Hermione had tried her best to understand his unique situation - knowing Ron couldn't even come close - but Dudley had literally just spent the last several months living as a muggle in a magical castle and his viewpoint was the best, so far, at calming Harry's anxious thoughts on the subject.

The second the Gryffindor opened the door, he regretted not looking at the parchment before answering, so he wouldn't have been taken completely off guard. Instead, he dropped his goblet of pumpkin juice, not noticing when the cold orange drink covered his feet and the metal goblet hit the floor with an echoing _clang_. Standing in front of him, looking far worse than Harry had ever seen the other wizard, was Draco.

The missing Slytherin was dressed in a white Oxford shirt that was haphazardly untucked from his black trousers and was missing any of his other uniform attire. Harry questioned if the teen had been allowed to change since his disappearance and he assumed the answer was no. His platinum hair was unwashed and patted down as if he'd tried to appear in control even though the look in his eyes said he was far from it. On his side, both pale hands were balled up nervously clenching and fidgeting, giving way to another sign that whatever had happened to the boy was not good. A pregnant pause enveloped the threshold as they simply stared at one another, not sure what to say.

 _So it wasn't Snape they were talking about tonight,_ Harry sadly thought to himself as he looked out at his former roommate.

"Are you going to invite me in, Potter?" The blonde asked, indignantly, "or have you lost all sense of manners since moving into Gryffindor territory?"

It had the desired effect in snapping Harry out of whatever stupor he'd been stuck in at the mere sight of the previously missing Malfoy.

"What happened to you?!" Harry asked, beckoning the blonde into the entryway. "Have you seen Hermione yet? She's been worried about you, we all have! Does Dumbledore know you're back?"

_That was a stupid question._

"Of course he knows," Draco gave a hard stare and pointed toward the kitchen missing the fact that neither wizard even attempted to clean up the pumpkin juice. "Where do you think I've been this whole time, you prat? Do you really think Dumbledore would let me wander the castle after going missing for three days?"

Harry had some kind of guess that was what had happened, yet hearing it from the source felt like an important thing to do. Naturally, if he'd been missing for three days, that would mean he'd been under the Order's care - if he could even call it that - for the last four.

"Have you seen Hermione yet?" The Gryffindor asked again as they entered the kitchen and Harry poured them both a cup of tea - another thing that he was still adjusting to while living with Professor McGonagall, she always had tea available - deciding this was probably better for their nerves than pumpkin juice. Draco, though, wouldn't sit and started pacing the room. To Harry, he looked like the wild animals locked up in cages he'd seen the one time he went to the zoo with his relatives - when he unknowingly used magic and spoke parseltongue in the same afternoon - pacing around waiting for something to happen or trying to find his way out. He decided to try a different approach, "What happened with the bracelet?"

That question yielded an immediate reaction and Draco's head quickly turned towards Harry, "You were right, it was a summons."

Draco stopped his frantic movements and sat down at the table across from the Gryffindor.

"Was he ok?" Harry asked, without even realizing it, "Snape I mean, did you see him?"

The blonde nodded his head and Harry wasn't sure if it was because he'd seen the professor or that the professor was ok. He hoped it was the latter - he was still confused about so many things in regards to the man - though feared it was the former; that Draco had seen him, but Snape was not ok.

"How did you get back?" Harry wanted to ask a million questions all at once and the fact that Draco had hardly said two words wasn't helping.

"I just told you, it was a summons," the grey eyes looking into Harry's green ones had a fire in them that Harry couldn't quite place. Before he had too much of a chance to contemplate it though, it was quickly replaced with Draco's normal smugness, "I do come back from those, y'know. Just this time, given the circumstances, the headmaster and that tosser Moody, wanted a bit more... thorough... debriefing. As of this evening, I am officially released from whatever they suspected might be going on."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "And you chose to come here first? I feel honored."

"Then let me correct that right away," the other wizard retorted, "Hermione's on prefect duty and Severus is obviously not here, so that _left_ you, as in the last resort… and McGonagall told me you'd be here."

The last sentence was mumbled and it made Harry smile. The visual of Draco sitting… wherever he was, probably Dumbledore's office, when he came to the realization he had to find the Head of Gryffindor's quarters was enough to drop any odd feelings he had over the situation.

"So seriously," Harry turned his head inquisitively, "how is he?"

"Oh, so you care now?" The Slytherin downed the last half of his cup of tea in one giant gulp and looked into the cup as if expecting it to refill. "The last time I saw you, you were dead set on dueling your frustrations away at whatever it was he did to you-" Draco furrowed his eyebrows, "- or whatever you _thought_ he did to you."

"Now who's being the prat?" Harry argued back, "I was angry, alright. I still am, but I'm also worried about him. I'm guessing Voldemort has him trying to brew-"

"He's a traitor to the Dark Lord, Potter," Draco interrupted, "how do you think he's doing? He was basically used as an example should any of the rest of us dare to even _think_ about double crossing him."

"But what about y-"

"Well, I'm that good, you see?" Draco once again interrupted him. "Merlin, why do you people all assume I'm worthless and I'll crumble under pressure? Sure, given the fact that I technically failed my task, it wasn't necessarily my most comfortable stay at home, but of course I passed the test in my loyalty from _both_ sides, and here I am."

There was something about how the Slytherin said it that hit Harry the wrong way. He was almost _too_ confident in his ability, but Harry hadn't been there and knew first hand what it was like to have people question your word; how many people said he didn't battle against Voldemort in the graveyard simply because it was hard to believe a fourteen year old could escape a wizard of Voldemort's caliber? The Gryffindor hadn't always agreed with Dumbledore's actions, especially after living with Snape, nevertheless the headmaster would do his due diligence, so he tabled those thoughts and instead focused on what was in front of him.

"Arrogant as ever, I see," Harry simply replied and gestured to their empty teacups, "Need some more tea?"

"Here, let me get that for you," Draco offered as Harry reached for the cup across from him. "No offense, but you look like you're one strong wind away from toppling over and the last thing I need is to survive an interrogation from the Dark Lord, his Death Eaters, and Moody, only to be cursed into next week by McGonagall for her precious lion's injury."

"A bit dramatic, don't you think," Harry smirked, handing his tea cup to Draco's outstretched arm. "Thank you, though."

It never struck the Gryffindor as odd when instead of simply summoning the teapot to the table, the Slytherin brought their teacups to the counter to refill them the muggle way. And unfortunately from where Harry always sat at the table - a fact that Draco would have known from all the meals they'd spent together since February - he wouldn't be able to see the two small sleeping tablets that were added to his tea cup and fully dissolved before being handed back to him.

The two boys fell into a comfortable conversation as they finished up their tea and Harry found some biscuits and crisps in the cupboard that he opened for the two of them to snack on. Most of their conversation was focused on classes and specifically how they thought Tonks would be as a Defense professor. Harry had always liked Tonks, and he thought she would have been a fun and engaging professor. Missing her classes - both at the beginning of the year when Snape took off because of Harry's pneumonia and now because he was too far behind to catch up - was one of the bigger regrets he had for his coursework. Draco, on the other hand, made it clear that he thought the Metamorphmagus couldn't be taken seriously as a professor. According to him, she was far too young to earn any respect from the students - Harry argued that Snape had to have been about her age when he started teaching and he clearly had no problem gaining respect - and that she was too clumsy to safely be around students while throwing hexes their way; and that was all before he brought up that she was a Hufflepuff, like that somehow meant she wasn't qualified to teach Defense. Apparently being an auror and the blonde's cousin, at least as Harry remembered it, didn't earn her any leeway with him. In fact, Harry found himself both surprised and intrigued at how seriously the other teen took his education once one stripped back his nervous arrogance.

A little over thirty minutes into their conversation, as Harry started to feel strangely sleepy, an uncomfortable silence fell over them. Even after almost two cups of tea, Draco didn't look any more relaxed. Harry had wanted to wait until the other teen wasn't so guarded to find out more about what happened at the Manor and with Snape, but now he decided a more direct approach was needed.

"What about your father?" Harry asked, after taking the last sip of his tea, "I mean, he was-"

"My father was trying to help me out," Draco once again interrupted him when asked a very direct question, something that was starting to get on Harry's nerves. The blonde closed up immediately after the question was asked and Harry could tell he was nervous. Whatever had happened during either of the interrogations left the normally well put-together Malfoy heir on edge. "How's Hermione holding up with everything? What exactly happened here after I left the Room?"

"She was a mess... Don't be surprised if she cries when she finally sees you," Harry answered honestly. He had broached the topic initially, so he couldn't really be upset when the tides turned to him and his side of what happened. "There was a lot going on when you disappeared. I guess she went down to Snape's to find you. They, um…" Harry really didn't want to tell the Slytherin about his father's map, "they searched the castle and when they didn't find us, that's when Snape went to Hogsmeade thinking we, or at least I, went there. Dunno why he'd think that though because I don't care how angry I was with him, I know better then to leave the wards right now."

"You weren't supposed to leave quarantine either," Draco aptly pointed out, "and you did that anyway. Going to be honest, Potter, you don't have the best track record in self-preservation."

That actually did cause Harry to laugh, "Snape used to say the same thing."

Harry wanted to ask if Draco knew about the prophecy - the Gryffindor was sure he did at least from the Department of Mysteries debacle with his father from last year - and more specifically, what Snape's role in it was. He opened his mouth twice to ask, but no matter how hard he tried to form the words, nothing came out. Harry smiled at the thought of him gaping like a fish to one of the most aristocratic sixteen year old's in wizarding Britain. He'd already talked about all of this with his friends, on multiple occasions, and yet he wanted Draco's opinion on it, like when he asked the blonde's opinion on his magic and the block. There was something about getting a completely unfiltered opinion - like Snape's used to be - on a difficult situation that meant just as much as his friends' opinions.

However before Harry could think much further, the yawn he'd been holding back came out and he felt eyes getting heavy. It had been a long time since he'd felt this overwhelmingly tired, especially considering he was taking a sleep aid to help him fall asleep every night.

"You ok there, Potter?" Draco asked, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "you look a little... I don't know, sleepy."

"... I am," Harry said, "I think I'm going to-" he gave another large yawn, "- go and lay down for a little bit."

The Gryffindor wanted to get up from the table, he wanted his legs to take him from the uncomfortable chair to his much more comfortable bed that was only right down the corridor. In the end, he couldn't fight it any longer and he decided to simply lay his head down on his folded arms right at the table. Before he knew it, and much faster than any other night since Snape's capture, Harry fell fast asleep.

"Sorry, Potter," the Slytherin said quietly. "I hope you can understand why I have to do this. I just don't know who I can trust anymore and I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe."

The sleeping wizard would never hear the confession of his captor. Nor would he know that Draco left him in the kitchen to go search his bedroom until he found the two last pieces he needed for his plan: the invisibility cloak and Harry's wand, to replace his own Hawthorne one that Voldemort hadn't returned to him. Working quickly, Draco used the Gryffindor's own wand to cast _Mobilicorpus_ on him and then proceeded to drape the invisibility cloak over his floating body. In one last check around, Draco conjured up a bag and collected all of Harry's tablet medications from the kitchen and lavatory, not knowing exactly what would be needed or how the Dark Lord planned to keep him alive without the muggle chemotherapy - that wasn't his responsibility, he was only supposed to deliver the Chosen One.

It was almost too easy. He had expected to somehow have to acquire Harry's wand while the other wizard was there and to use a quickly casted stunning spell, until he saw the box of tablets sitting on the countertop clearly labeled "sleeping aid" on them. He had no idea of the proper dosage - nor did he have the time to check - but based on all the other medications the Gryffindor was taking, two seemed to be a safe amount; enough to knock him out cold, yet not do any lasting damage.

Once that was completed, he knew where he'd find the invisibility cloak, and the wand was now only needed to levitate his thin body towards Hogsmeade. The walk was dark and cold, making Draco feel a little more guilty about the situation because Harry was only dressed in a pair of green flannel pyjamas. Hopefully he'd stay asleep long after they arrived at the Manor and would get to warm up before waking. He didn't attempt to finish the trek to the snowy wizarding village, at this point he was familiar with the boundaries of the wards and didn't want to waste any time. So after his first step out of the wards, he turned to his invisible hostage, placed his hand on the middle of the Gryffindor's floating body and said, "Mort".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Roommates
> 
> A/N: This officially starts the last arc of the story as both Harry and Snape are now prisoners at Malfoy Manor. I will say this last section coming up was a challenge because my two POV characters aren't together. Much to my beta's frustration, I stay true to my POV (which I uncharacteristically broke at the end of this chapter) so sometimes things are happening behind the scenes and will come to light as Harry and Snape learn about them. It's also going to be a little faster paced as we head towards the end, so please keep an eye on the dates and the time references.


	69. Roommates

~~~~SS~~~~

**_Thursday 20, March 1997_ **

Severus was in no rush to start the second round of potions for the Dark Lord, especially considering it had been barely 24-hours since he was used as a Death Eater hexing dummy. In his old reality, he used to spend most of the day every Sunday brewing Harry's weekly potions that would last the Gryffindor from Monday through the following Sunday. A total of 56 phials worth of potions were required each week - and each of the eight potions took two or three rounds of brewing to make the required volume - though he usually brewed at least one extra for each type, totally 64 phials, just in case something happened to one; he wasn't about to risk Harry's health over a sloppily casted or forgotten anti-breaking spell. With the Dark Lord's regimen starting on Saturdays, Severus had to dedicate Fridays to brewing meaning he would get the rest of Thursday to recover from yesterday's events.

"Why can't you simply put a stasis spell on a full supply of potions?"

For once, he'd been trying to get some sleep early in the night when Nadine's very applicable question caused his eyes to open. In his old reality, he'd obviously considered the option of taking a full weekend to brew a month's worth and placing them under a stasis - in fact, it was Healer Walker who made the original recommendation - however he wanted to make sure Harry's potions were as potent as possible. A fact that he did not care about in the slightest for the Dark Lord.

"Because brewing these potions each week is the only thing keeping me alive at the moment," he replied, surprising even himself with his honesty.

"That's a fair point," she replied. "So then what will happen to us when he starts feeling better?"

The air between the two prisoners was heavy as neither wanted to say out loud that there was no conceivable way they were going to walk out of there alive. At some point in her last five months of captivity, the professor had to assume she'd come to terms with her own death, however that didn't mean he was set to discuss it now.

"Well," the professor started, "once everything is in place for the blood ritual, I'll start adjusting the potions back to the fatal formula. It will take some time to work, but they'll eventually kill him. If my calculations are correct, which is more likely than not, when that point comes he'll perish some time between the blood ritual days."

In the best case scenario, he hoped for two things: that they managed to remove the soul fragment from Harry first, and that it was a painful death, instead of a peaceful one in his sleep. It would come unexpected and therefore no one - outside of those involved in the poisoning - would think that he wouldn't make it to the next ritual, thus giving them the benefit of the surprise on their side.

"And then what?" She bluntly asked and Severus could tell she was excited about the prospect of getting out, yet wary of it actually working. "We're still locked in here with a dozen Death Eaters."

"That we are," he sat up further in his bed knowing sleep wasn't likely any longer, "but if you'll remember from the first war, they completely disbanded at the Dark Lord's, back then assumed, death. Unfortunately, once the leader is gone, the cavalry won't be far behind."

"And if he kills us beforehand?"

This - right here was why he both struggled and loved to teach Ravenclaws. They were never satisfied with a simple answer and instead used it as a springboard into the next anxiety-inducing question or problem. During Potion's class, it was a good quality to have, but while he was trying to focus on solving one problem at a time, it didn't help to think too far ahead. They were in the unique position to combine her Ravenclaw critical thinking skills with his Slytherin cunningness - and skills honed from years of spying - and maybe they could make it out of this intact.

"There's no point in dwelling on that, as there's not much we can do to prevent it." He wanted to give her better news on that front; to be able to tell her that he wouldn't kill them, but the Dark Lord wasn't necessarily the most stable wizard. "The best we _can_ do is stick to our plan and try to find weaknesses that we can exploit. For example, if you listen carefully as you're being brought to and from the Dark Lord, I think you'll hear doubts among his followers. We can use that information to continue to build our alliances. This way we know who's willing to assist us as the Dark Lord gets closer to perishing."

"If they wanted to help us," she challenged him, "why would they join You-Know-Who to begin with? Why not just help us now?"

"You'd be surprised how quickly alliances can change when Azkaban is the most likely outcome, especially when dealing with Slytherins," he explained. "Outside of the Lestranges, all three of them, I think the Dark Lord has cast enough doubt within his ranks to turn some of them. It's only a matter of identifying them at the proper moment."

She didn't look like she believed a word he'd said, and he couldn't really blame her. The healer had spent five months here already and had seen or heard the Death Eaters celebrate countless petty deaths and it would be hard to get her on board to trust any of them to help.

Severus was about to go into the details he'd been thinking about for the last couple of days, until their door slammed open with so much force the former spy re-injured his healing cuts from sitting up the rest of the way so quickly. Before either resident could comprehend what was happening, the door firmly closed leaving Lucius standing directly in front of the potions workbench. At first, Severus assumed something had happened and Lucius had been discovered to be in talks with them, but then the patriarch pulled out his wand and warded the door behind him.

"He's returned," the blonde said with an aura of panic surrounding him that was out of character for the normally aristocratic Slytherin, "Draco's returned."

_Dammit_

This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to be safely under the Order's very close watch. He assumed that Dumbledore wouldn't let the teen leave his sight and yet somehow that clearly hadn't happened.

"Was he summoned?" Severus asked, standing to meet his friend at the potions bench as another just as pressing question came to mind, "Is he alone?"

"I've just been ordered to get the healer," Lucius looked over at Nadine with a scowl, then reigned in his worry underneath a mask of indifference. Severus wasn't quite sure if the mask was a way to convince himself that he didn't care if his son was killed or to convince those around him that he had more control over himself than he actually did. "All I know is that he's ended up in the cell where that bloody bracelet would take him if used, so I'm assuming he was not summoned nor is he alone."

"He has Harry." It wasn't a question. That would be the only real reason Draco would have returned. Severus's stomach was full of dread for both of the boys currently sitting in a cell probably not too far from his own. A million thoughts were running through his mind as he tried to solve the problems he hadn't expected to have before him. Whatever they did, they had to act quickly. "You both need to listen to me, and you don't have much time."

Understanding that she would be involved in whatever Severus was going to explain, Nadine finally stood and joined the two Slytherins.

"He has no reason to keep Draco alive if Harry is indeed here," the professor started, he raised his hand to prevent Lucius's anticipated interruption. "Draco is a perfect match for the blood ritual."

"How do you-"

"Trust me," Severus hoped his eyes could convey how important that single message was. "I don't have time to explain it all, but if you want to save your son, he is a perfect match and the Dark Lord would not be able to kill him with that knowledge."

Severus could see the wheels turning in Lucius's head as he was standing at his own crossroad, one that Severus didn't envy one bit. The Malfoy Patriarch could take a risk that the Dark Lord would have mercy on the teen because he managed to secure Harry in such a short amount of time, or he could take the opportunity to save his life now - or at least prolong it - by offering him as a source of healing to their master.

"It won't kill him?" Lucius asked a second later.

"No," the professor confirmed both quickly and confidently. "It won't be pleasant by any means, but it's nothing a blood replenishing potion won't easily resolve.

"As for Harry-" he turned towards the healer, "they need to get his chemotherapy here. The whole point of this was to keep him alive and at this rate he's in more danger here then he was back at the castle."

"Can't he just use the potions?" Nadine asked, frustrating Severus. If that would have worked, he would have suggested it.

Giving a sideways glance at Lucius, he made the decision to be honest. It was only a matter of time before they found out anyways, "His magic isn't strong enough. You know the dangers of the chemotherapy on a wizard's magical core, and he's definitely feeling it. He needs to continue the chemotherapy or his Leukemia _will_ return and it _will_ kill him."

She nodded her head, but didn't add anything. The three adults looked between each other

"Let us go," Lucius demanded, grabbing Nadine by her upper arm so forcefully he wouldn't be surprised if she had bruises to match the Death Eater's fingers.

"You should struggle," Severus added right before the pair left through the door, "it will explain the delay in her delivery."

He hated having to place the blame on Healer Walker, but they couldn't let the Dark Lord have any further doubts about Lucius. She'd get punished for her disobedience and that realization mixed with betrayal was evident in her bright blue eyes when she turned to look over her shoulder before being pulled from the room.

This was the hardest part, waiting and not being able to do a single thing, or know what was going on elsewhere in the Manor. Deciding there wasn't anything else in the room to keep his mind occupied, he pulled out four cauldrons along with the first set of ingredients, and started brewing in hopes of keeping his mind off the next glaring problem that he didn't want to solve: it was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord discovered how to make another horcrux and when that happened, Harry's protection would be gone.

* * *

Severus had no idea of the time; either when Lucius first came to tell them that Draco had succeeded in capturing Harry or when Healer Walker finally came back through the door. Trying to get a head start on the potions seemed like a good idea to pass the time and keep his mind busy, however he quickly found that his focus just wasn't where he needed it to be. Instead of the bright hues of the healing potions he'd expected to see, they all turned a dark murky green. He'd finally stopped his attempts when he realized he was simply wasting ingredients instead of making any actual progress.

"How is he?" Severus asked when the raven-haired witch returned. Her hands were shaking and the front of her robes were stained with blood that immediately brought fear to the professor.

"Which one?"

She sat exhaustedly onto her mattress, her hand methodically massaging the space above her eyebrows. At that moment, the professor wasn't sure he wanted to know what had happened.

"Let's start with whoever that blood on your robe belongs to."

She looked down and immediately jumped, like she hadn't known there was still evidence of whatever had happened in the other cell.

"Draco," she said, pulling out a plain blue shirt from under the bed and turning away from him as he simultaneously did the same. Living in such small quarters, they had quickly become accustomed to providing whatever sliver of privacy they could for the other. He turned back after a quiet "thank you" was heard.

"Is he alive?" Severus's voice had an almost undetectable quiver to it when he asked the question he didn't necessarily want the answer to. As he waited to hear from the healer his anger over what the young Slytherin did dominated his thoughts, but anger wouldn't help Harry and he needed to be clear headed and focused. It was then that concern for both boys settled into him. Now hearing that Draco had been… it was too much. What if they'd been too late?

"He's alive," she gave a small quick series of nods, but it didn't stop the few tears that escaped the corners of her eyes. She picked up a large book he hadn't noticed she brought in and slammed it onto the floor before her so hard he felt the walls shake. "But he probably wouldn't have been much longer. _He_ took the bait and somehow I'm supposed to feel better about a teenager being used as the final _ingredient_ for whatever this ritual is? I don't want to do it!"

"You have to," Severus calmly replied looking at the book. It appeared like the Dark Lord did have access to a different set of Dark Arts texts since this was not the same book with the ritual that used to be in Lucius's possession. He found himself questioning how many other texts existed with the instructions to create a horcrux. Hopefully it would take him longer to hunt that one down. "I can help you prepare for it."

"You can… you can help..." she started, but stopped as a fire burned in her eyes, "no one should have to be _prepared_ for something like this!"

"This is war," he reminded her, "and in war, you do whatever it takes to survive and right now the best- no the only chance those two boys have of surviving is if we do. And right now, that means getting you mentally prepared to perform a dark and ancient blood ritual."

She hung her head down close between her knees and was so silent that Severus almost thought she'd fallen asleep in that position. "It's sickening," she eventually whispered.

"You don't have to condone it, nor do you have to like it, but you have to do it or you'll get killed. And if you get killed, Draco and Harry will suffer from it." He watched her closely and sighed in relief when she gave another quick nod. He wasn't trying to make any heartfelt speeches and he definitely wasn't trying to scare her; he was being honest. "Tell me about Harry. How did Draco get him here?"

"Harry Potter was unconscious the whole time," she gave a small sniffle, still going over in her head the wounds she had to heal on Draco that had been made by Voldemort before he knew how important the young Slytherin would be. "Draco said he used some kind of muggle sleeping draft. I tried to wake him and he opened his eyes, but simply went back to sleep. I don't know where they ended up taking both of them, but I'm sure I'll be called there in the morning, if not before then."

"How was-"

"Nothing came up on my diagnostic scan," she interrupted and then leaned back against the stone wall and closed her eyes. "I'll have to do a more thorough exam when he wakes up. It could be a mid-day tomorrow though..." She trailed off and Severus could tell she was struggling and he had zero idea of what to do. He expected something emotional, yet wasn't surprised when she went the complete opposite route and turned clinical instead, "I made sure to emphasize that he needs to continue his muggle treatments. It did not go over well."

He cringed at that and remembered his sacrificial remark about her as Lucius was pulling her out the door. The fact that she'd been able to bring Draco back from however close he was to death must have worked in her favor at least until that statement.

"And?"

"And what do you think?" She opened her eyes and gave him a hard glare. "Guess who gets to figure that one out? Draco did manage to bring a set of tablets, but I have no idea what they do."

"He'll know," Severus quietly responded, "Harry will. If not, try to write the names down, since I'm naturally assuming bringing them here is out of the question, and I can tell you what they do. As for the rest, we'll figure something out. We should have at least another week."

"You really care about him, don't you?" She said it so suddenly, Severus was taken aback. Then she leaned forward and rested her hands on her crossed legs and simply waited for him to answer. He didn't though; there wasn't much else to say. After the Rita Skeeter article, he'd gotten the gamut of responses about his role in Harry's - no, The Chosen One's - care. It had gotten so bad, for a period of time he stopped accepting any of his mail. "You do have your hands full."

The former Death Eater actually gave a small chuckle at her nervous deflection, "That's a story for another day."

Without waiting for her response, he laid down on his tiny, sorry excuse for a mattress and turned to face the wall signifying that he was finished with the conversation. Tomorrow he would need to complete the full 64 phials of the next potions regimen, tomorrow he would ask about the encounter with the Dark Lord in detail, tomorrow he would start working on the next set of problems to solve: getting Nadine ready for the Blood Ritual and making sure Harry could continue to get his chemotherapy.

~~~~HP~~~~

_"Crucio!"_

Harry shot up out of the bed and out of habit grabbed his forehead before he could even register that there was no pain or burning in his scar. Without his glasses, there was very little he could see around the unfamiliar room, but he could definitely tell there was a person standing near his bed. Instinctually, he grabbed for his wand even though in the recesses of his mind he knew it was worthless to him. It didn't matter though because wherever he was, he did not come with his wand.

"Oh!" the person next to his bed jumped when he moved for his wand. She had kind blue eyes and black hair that reminded him of Hermione's. She handed him his glasses and said, "Good morning, Mr Potter."

Skeptical of this new person, he took his glasses and placed them on his face. Realistically, he wasn't going anywhere without them, so it was a solid first step in figuring out what happened; not to mention if whoever the witch next to him was, had wanted him dead, she had plenty of time to do it before he awoke.

"That's better, I'm sure," she smiled at him and he continued to get a good look at the place he was being held.

The room around him was over twice the size of his room in Hogwarts - both in the dungeons with Snape and up in the tower with McGonagall - which made sense given the fact that there was a bed on the opposite side of the same wall. His bed was adorned in a set of navy blue linens with a matching blue bedspread covered in small stars sewn delicately into the fabric. It was plush, like his favorite green one from home, but somehow felt heavier and thinner at the same time. The bed to the left of his own, belonging to his unknown roommate, had similar linens but they were in a bright silver instead of navy. Beside each bed was a small, ornate table where his glasses must have been held and his table also had his tablet medications sitting out on display confusing him as to where he could possibly be and why. All of the furniture gave him a familiar feeling, made of a wood so fine didn't even know what kind it was and adorned with delicate carvings and moldings, but he couldn't place where he'd seen work like this before; certainly not at Hogwarts or his relatives house, and even Grimmauld Place wasn't this neat and tidily kept.

Taking a sweeping glance across the room, he noticed the two beds matched a celestial theme that had obviously been the design behind the bedroom. All four walls were silver, and the two parallel with the beds had small navy and yellow stars painted - by magic or hand, Harry couldn't be sure, but he thought the latter - across the top third of them. The floor was covered in a large navy rug that looked so lush, Harry wanted to run his bare feet through it and somehow pictured himself sitting upon it and sketching by the warm fire. A large lantern, or chandelier because Harry really wasn't sure of the difference, was placed in the center of the extraordinarily tall ceiling and a large fireplace across from the two beds provided ample light in addition to the picture window - taking up most of the wall space - that sat between the beds.

Harry very carefully sat up and looked out the window to try to gain some knowledge of where he was. The low sun in the sky told him it was around dinnertime, though he was far from hungry. Peering down from what he guessed was the second story of the building, a set of gardens were laid out in front of him that Harry assumed had to be enchanted because unless he'd travelled across the sea, there was no way the flowers would be completely bloomed and full of color in mid-March as they currently were. In fact, compared to the rest of the overall dreary space, the gardens were a refreshing pop of brightness that he was immediately drawn to. He would have loved to go out and smell each and every flower, except in the middle of the garden, just beyond an elaborate fountain that was not currently flowing, was a hedge maze reminding him too much of the Triwizard Tournament. Through all of that though, what startled him the most, shocked him to his core and filled his entire weak body with dread, was the white peacocks strutting about the grounds, confirming where he had assumed - but hoped he'd been wrong - he was being held.

Not knowing if the witch now watching him intently was part of Voldemort's Death Eaters - she looked friendly enough not to be - he turned back towards the room trying not to make any sudden moments. In addition to the fireplace on the wall directly across from his bed, there was a door to the far left, on the wall with his roommate's bed, and another door directly across from it on 'his side' of the room, but flushed with the fireplace. The second door would be the easiest for him to quickly escape, yet there was no guarantee that particular door would lead to the corridor and to his freedom. It could very well leave him trapped in a lavatory and he'd already confirmed he was not on the ground level to climb out of the window; assuming they opened and weren't charmed not to break.

He wouldn't make it. With no magic, no wand, no idea of where he was in the Manor outside of the second story, and not to mention the plethora of wards he was sure were placed on the room and grounds in general, there was no way he was making it out just by running. No, this time he'd have to think more carefully of a plan and at the rate things were looking, it might be a while. The first question he had was why was he still alive?

"Why am I still alive?"

He hadn't meant to ask that out loud, however it didn't seem to startle his captor in the slightest. Quite the opposite, she appeared to almost relax at his abrupt inquiry.

"You have nothing to worry about," she told him as she continued to inventory his tablets. Once she had whatever information she needed, she turned to him and introduced herself, "My name is Healer Walker, how are you feeling?"

The name sounded familiar and he was embarrassed that it took him so long to remember why. He'd seen her in the vision right after her own capture. His face blanched as he remembered Lucius pulling her - or more accurately dragging her - before Voldemort and the excitement the evil dark wizard felt over her fear of him. The witch in front of him no longer looked as terrified, but she had a tremble in her hands giving away how nervous she was.

"I'm alright," he said, pushing himself further up on his elbows to try and find out more about his situation. "What happened? Why am I here?"

He tried to keep the panic out of his voice and failed miserably at it. The healer turned to look at the other bed drawing Harry's attention to the mop of platinum hair that lay on the pillow still asleep. Anger. That was the feeling consuming him inside at the sight of Draco in the bed beside him and he was brought back to the last thing he remembered: having tea with the Slytherin after he'd been released from the Order's interrogation.

"He brought me here?" It was asked as a question, but never did he expect an answer from the healer.

"It's more complicated," she said hesitantly, "just try to relax-"

"How can I relax when I'm staying with the Death Eater that just brought me here?!"

The panic was swelling up inside of him, blocking out his reasoning. If Voldemort wanted to kill him, he would have done it already. That wasn't true though, and Harry knew it. Only two years ago, the young wizard had been tied up in the graveyard and yet, he'd not only been released from his bindings, he'd been given his wand back to duel! The fact that he was still alive meant absolutely nothing to his future fate.

"I promise you, he won't hurt you," Healer Walker said like he was just supposed to believe her. "Now, could you explain to me about your medication?"

"Go to hell," he practically yelled at her, "I don't have to tell you anything."

"Wow," she commented rather flatly; Harry had been hoping for a better reaction, "Severus never mentioned you'd be so feisty."

The Gryffindor wasn't sure what threw him off more: the fact that she didn't react to his exclamation or her casual mention of Snape's name. So much had happened in the week since the prophecy vision, that he was somehow more confused on his feelings about the professor residing in the same Manor as he was, likely somewhere below his own room. Whether she meant it as a way to distract him from Draco or not, that was the end result.

"Have you seen Severus?" Harry asked quietly, the fuel on his angry fire now deflated. He'd deal with Draco separately.

She nodded and narrowed her eyes at him, "I'm living with him, actually. Do you want me to give him a message from you?"

"Erm… No," Harry shook his head. "How is he?"

"Angry, but I get the feeling that's pretty normal for him," she answered, placing a tray with a bowl of soup on the bed. Harry eyed it warily, but the smell of the beefy broth made his stomach grumble which was something he hadn't felt in a long time. Pulling up a chair next to his bed, the healer picked up a second spoon that was sitting on the tray and took a spoonful herself. "It's not poisoned."

He couldn't hold back the smirk that showed on his face. It was such a bold move that somehow showed him that even if there wasn't another person he could trust here, he could most likely trust her. It broke the silos he'd placed around him the instant he knew where he'd woken up and then locked tighter when he knew that Draco was his new roommate. Quietly, so as not to wake the now sleeping Slytherin, she answered as many of his questions as she possibly could. She explained how he'd gotten there, Draco having drugged him with his own sleeping pills, and that while she didn't know the exact reason, she was told to keep him alive at all costs. Somehow Harry knew that the evil wizard discovered the Horcrux. The soul fragment living within him, was now not only protecting whatever magic he had left, it was saving his life, at least until Voldemort knew how to make another one or decided to keep Harry as a prisoner forever.

Naturally, that led into her asking what felt like dozens of questions about his treatment: what the thing in his chest - his port - was used for, when he started the next round - cycle, he corrected her because now he was on cycles that lasted 12 weeks each and was supposed to start next Saturday - and how his medications were administered. Unfortunately, he was no help in how to actually obtain the muggle chemotherapy without Dr Swanson's help. They'd - meaning the Death Eaters or Voldemort - would need to get the tablets filled on a regular basis, and his monthly IV and IT treatments. The young wizard shuttered at the thought of who would be administering them and the complications that could arise if they were done incorrectly; including paralysis from a misplaced IT needle in his spinal cavity, burning from a loose IV connection, to instant death if they mixed up the two IV and IT medications. Yet even going through all of that in relation to his own circumstances, it was the unspoken truth that his muggle doctor would likely end up in the Manor before long that caused his heart to ache. She had a family - not to say Healer Walker didn't, Harry didn't know anything about her - but Dr Swanson wasn't part of this world; she didn't necessarily know about Voldemort or the war waging between their two worlds, she'd be brought here and held against her will until his three years of Maintenance were done and then she'd be killed. Not for the first time he questioned if saving his life was worth it. Yes, there was a prophecy about his ability to defeat Voldemort, but didn't Dumbledore also say at the end of term last year that it wasn't set in stone?

"We'll figure it out, Harry," Healer Walker mistakenly took his muted silence as concern for his own health. "I promise you, we will find a way to get your treatments here."

That was how he left it. He didn't correct her that she was basically condemning another person to her own fate trapped forever in the eerie Manor. They'd be partners in treating the same disease in two very different individuals who chose - though Voldemort would never look at muggle medications as a choice - very different treatment routes. Harry actually did laugh at the thought of how much Healer Smithe would have loved to scientifically see the two of them. Of course, this was no laughing matter and for that reaction, Healer Walker gave him a worrisome look.

"So what am I supposed to do here?" He asked after the myriad of questions was coming to an end.

Once again, she peered over her shoulder at Draco's still sleeping form, "There will be a constant guard outside your door at all times. I'll see what I can do to get you some flexibility to move about the Manor, but I can't give you any guarantee on how much you'll have. There are wards in place over both of you, similar to a baby monitoring charm-" she laughed at Harry's eye roll from that statement, "-so if you go anywhere, they'll know."

"So I can't jump out the window?"

"No," her bushy hair swung from side-to-side as she shook her head, "they can't be opened by magic or by force."

"That's a shame," Harry mumbled, "and what about him?"

He motioned with his head towards the other bed.

"Draco will probably sleep until morning," she sadly said. "He had quite a few extensive injuries before I was able to get to him and was given a dose of Dreamless Sleep to help give him time to finish healing."

 _He does look pale_ , Harry conceded to himself before he could stop. The other wizard delivered the Boy-Who-Lived to Voldemort's headquarters, he should have been celebrated like a hero. What could have happened to make things go bad enough that he needed to be medically asleep to finish healing? Harry thought back to when he first woke up this afternoon, the Cruciatus Curse he'd heard - or remembered - wasn't directed at him. If he thought hard enough, he could almost remember bits and pieces of curses being thrown fueled by hatred and anger; not one of them were to him though.

"Get some rest," the healer said, picking up his half empty bowl and placing it back onto the tray. If he didn't get injured, he had no idea why he needed to rest or why that sounded like such a great idea. He'd been fighting sleep since Snape's disappearance and since his magic died, and now he had nothing left in him to use to fight. Thinking of his magic brought to his mind something he actually did want Snape to know.

"Can you tell him that it's gone?" Harry called out right before Healer Walker left the room.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Severus," he clarified, "you said you're staying with him, right? Can you tell him that it's gone? He'll know what that means."

She turned her head inquisitively, likely wanting to ask him to elaborate, but she just nodded her agreement and continued on her way. While the Gryffindor didn't think he would be able to keep the fact that he was currently magicless quiet forever, his instincts deep inside said that he shouldn't announce that fact to just anyone, and until he could be sure this new healer was an ally that was all she would know.

* * *

The next time Harry woke it was dark, proving he'd somehow managed to sleep at least a few more hours though he wasn't sure why. There was now a fire crackling in the fireplace across the room near the foot of his bed giving Harry a false sense of security, but it didn't do anything to warm the chill from within his thin frame. A quick turn to his left revealed an empty, and strangely fully made up bed and Draco nowhere else in sight. Pulling the plush bedspread back, a shiver ran through him and he wished he had his warmer pyjamas, his favorite ones to wear on chemotherapy days. He swung his feet over the side of the tall bed, and was surprised when his feet touched the soft navy rug and a warmth radiated from the fabric into the soles of his feet. While he'd been to a fully magical house before - both the Borrow and Grimmauld Place - he'd never thought about having enchanted floors, or rugs, to keep the resident's feet warm.

 _If I ever make it out of here, I wonder if we can do that on the dungeon floor_ , Harry found himself thinking before he could stop himself.

The warmth radiating through the bottom of his feet was the one thing that seemed to help push out the cold from within him. Given everything his body had been through, it always felt petty to complain about the cold, but it made such a big impact on him he wouldn't be surprised if he eventually moved somewhere south, where it was warm year-round. Now that he was standing, he could fully appreciate just how tall and expansive the room that was his prison. While it wasn't as big as some of the rooms back at Hogwarts, it was by far the biggest private bedroom he'd ever been in and the thought of growing up living here filled him with both envy and fear. Draco would have never wanted for anything growing up in a house like this, although the more he thought about it, didn't the blonde mention something about his parents growing up? As Harry approached the large window separating the two beds, he continued to ponder what growing up in a full wizarding mansion would have been like. It couldn't be any further from where Harry grew up; a cramped cupboard in a fully muggle household, and yet it seemed both wizards held secrets of their childhood close to his chest.

The gardens, which had been stunning in the evening sun, were equally beautiful in the dark night sky. They were only days away from the full moon and therefore he could perfectly see the outline of the hedge maze in the center of the large open space, with the water in the fountain rippling in the moonlight cast across its surface. All around the bushes, trees, and hedges, small lights twinkled like fireflies in and out of the greenery in such a rhythm he knew they couldn't be randomly placed. But the best part of the whole scene, the one he immediately thought of Hermione and how much she would love this view if one could ignore the evil wizard taking up residents with them, were the two or three dozen floating lanterns - enchanted he was sure - bobbing up and down across either side of the maze. Every color of the rainbow was represented and they matched the colors of the flowers that had been in those locations earlier that evening, giving the nighttime garden just as much liveliness as during the day.

"I always loved the gardens at night," came a soft, timid voice from behind him. Having been completely lost in the view outside, the Gryffindor missed the door opening behind him. It also meant he missed his chance to find out which door led to the corridor. "It was really the only space on the property I could make my own."

Harry's heart practically stopped as he turned and watched Narcissa Malfoy from across the bedroom. She was standing by the doorway near Draco's bed, marking that doorway as the way out. She was pristinely dressed in a black set of robes with silver embellishments across the collar and the waistline, and her blond hair tied loosely behind her head. Harry had only met her a handful of times before, and each time she appeared as cold as Draco was arrogant. Now, standing across the room from him with the soft orange glow from the fireplace silhouetting her petite frame, she didn't appear nearly as haughty as he remembered. In her hands were a stack of folded cloth, and from his vantage point, he couldn't tell if they were blankets, clothing, or something else entirely.

"It's lovely," he said warily, not willing to let his guard down no matter how innocent she sounded. He looked over to the empty bed beside his own, assuming she'd come to see her son, and added, "I don't know where Draco is. The healer said he'd probably sleep till morning, but he was gone when I woke up."

She smiled at him and Harry didn't know if he should be happy or scared, "He awoke about an hour ago and went for a shower after dinner. We have some... proprietary healing potions the Healer was not aware of."

Harry did, in fact, hear the shower running from the door directly across from the foot of his own bed. Had he been a little more aware of his surroundings - something that Snape would admonish him about - he would have known where his new roommate had gone. As for the healing potions, Harry didn't doubt that the Malfoys had a wide range of things, mostly dark arts related, that Healer Walker didn't know about. If he remembered right, the Malfoy fortune was made from the Apothecary business, so it made sense.

"I'm glad he'll be alright," Harry lamely replied. "Do you want me to tell him-"

"I brought these for you," she awkwardly held out the bundle that was in her hands and when Harry made no movement to meet her for them, she neatly placed them at the foot of his bed. "They're some of Draco's more casual clothing. I thought you and Draco were about the same height, however these may still be a little…"

She trailed off, but he knew what she was thinking. She'd expected him to be the same Boy-Who-Lived that was on the front cover of the _Prophet_ all those times and not the underweight sickly wizard - though was he technically a wizard if he didn't currently have magic? - that now stood before her. He didn't validate her observation with a response.

"Either way," she continued as she gained more control over herself, "they should fit you well enough and I thought you might want something clean to change into after you awoke."

His face started to flush, which thankfully the Malfoy Matriarch wouldn't be able to see in the darkened room, as he realized he was still dressed in his pyjamas from McGonagall's quarters. They suddenly felt scratchy and dirty against his skin and the thought of getting out of them, into a shower, and dressed in something more comfortable was suddenly at the top of his mind.

It was also an olive branch, he recognized; a way to say that after everything was said and done she was probably - most likely, but as a Malfoy, Harry couldn't be completely sure - on his side. She had been about to go into hiding with the Order after all, plans that were now completely worthless, but at the same time she wanted to wait to get her own life in order first. So, did that really make her an ally?

"Thank you," he eventually replied and looked at the door directly behind her, anxious to see if he could find out who was guarding them. Still, he didn't move even a step closer to her.

"If you need anything…" again she trailed off, but this time it was because she was talking to him like she would a guest. As if he were one of the countless other visitors who were paraded through the elegant Manor before coming through the same doorway the Matriarch did for the night. He wasn't a guest though, and neither was her son. They were prisoners being held against their will for who knew what purpose exactly and how long.

She left as silently as she'd entered, but this time Harry was watching and caught sight of the two guard's standing on either side of the door. One of them he recognized as the Death Eater in his last vision - Rabastan - and the other was Dolohov. With two high ranking Death Eaters watching over the room, there was no way Harry would be escaping without being noticed.

"Well look who's finally awake."

Harry jumped slightly at the statement from the only other doorway in their room. It was now the second time he was startled that night and that immediately put him on edge. Draco was walking out of the attached lavatory wearing a set of black silk-like pyjamas that appeared almost identical to the ones he often wore back at Hogwarts. He was towel drying his platinum blonde hair, reminding Harry that neither of them had a wand at their disposal. The Slytherin's casual demeanor infuriated Harry more than just the idea that he'd managed to capture him in the first place.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Harry demanded and charged up to the other teen. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd do, and by the time he reached the fireplace he backed off, knowing that starting a muggle fight probably wasn't the best idea, "I trusted you! Snape trusted you!"

Not that the Gryffindor would have expected anything less, Draco didn't stand down from the accusation. He threw the small towel down and met Harry the rest of the way across the room, "There you go acting just like a Gryffindor and jumping to all of the wrong conclusions, because of course the _great Harry Potter_ can never be wrong about anything!"

Harry gritted his teeth, trying to hold in his seething anger and not take the bait being dangled in front of him. It would feel good to lash out at the wizard in front of him, the one who was responsible for his current imprisonment.

"I was drugged and kidnapped," he yelled back, clutching his hands by his side wishing he had his wand, "there's nothing else to it! Or maybe this was your intention the entire time? I bet dating Hermione was all an act too! Was she just a means to an end in your master plan? What's the harm, right? Maybe you get extra-"

The Gryffindor was abruptly cut short as a pale hand grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shoved him roughly against the nearest wall. "Think you have me all figured out, do you?" The Slytherin sneered at him, but the usual smugness in voice was filled with anger and hurt. "So what does the brilliant Harry Potter think will happen next? Choose your words wisely, Potter. If I'm the immortal chav you make me out to be, I'll have no issue slagging the infirm. And trust me — if you say one more thing about Hermione, you'll be begging the Death Eaters for a new roommate."

"Go for it," Harry nodded, letting his own anger drive his words. If he had taken a moment to think, he would have remembered Healer Walker alluding to Draco's grave situation, but it felt too good to get all of his frustrations out. Either he'd get hit or he'd continue getting to say all the things he'd been holding inside. "We both know exactly what happened. _Voldemort-_ " he emphasized the name knowing it would cause the youngest Death Eater pain, "-offered you a better deal, didn't he? That was why you joined the Order in the first place right, to make sure you were on the winning side? Did you think we were losing? So now what did you get for you delivering me? Because from where I was sitting while you were still passed out, it didn't look so glamorous."

Draco stared down at him, his free fist clenching and loosening as if in debate with himself if throwing a punch was a sound approach. "In all of your glorious insight, tell me oh so intelligent Chosen One... why - if I was getting a kick back from him," he refused the name even if the other didn't, "- am I as much of a prisoner in here as you? No, actually, don't answer that." He slammed the other boy roughly against the wall, not caring anymore for the pain and discomfort he might've caused. "You know nothing because you are nothing. You just sit in your safety net watching every other bloke sacrifice life after life. And what did you sacrifice, hm? Your parents? Yes, I've heard that sob story before. Let's hear a new one. Please. Regale me with all of your sacrifices and trials in this war."

Standing there face to face with his former nemesis, the other teen's hair now almost dried as a visual reminder to the time past while they fought. The truth was that he wasn't the one out in the trenches and even if it weren't for the Leukemia, he wouldn't have been allowed to be. For whatever reason - the prophecy of course - his role was deemed too important to risk. Draco had been right, before he was even old enough to speak a full sentence, his fate had been decided for him; he was to sit on the sidelines until his time came like a specialized weapon, except Harry had no idea what it was he was supposed to do. Being the Boy-Who-Lived or the Chosen One didn't actually mean anything, it didn't give him any special abilities, besides of course surviving the killing curse. That one event would forever plague him. And Draco was a prisoner here as much as him, so what did that mean?

"Why does he want me alive?"

Draco sneered, having been equally ready for the muggle fight which would have been an abhorrent idea, "He knows about the Horcrux. So now instead of killing you, he wants to protect you. Seems to me like he should make up his fucking mind before sending his _followers_ out on a pointless mission."

Anger now mostly subsided, Harry sat at the edge of his bed, leaning over with his forearms resting on his thighs, as he took in the information he'd just been given. It was one thing to assume the dark wizard knew about being a horcrux and another for it to be confirmed. The good news was he wouldn't die, but ultimately it probably meant he should. Having cooled down, though less so than Harry, Draco went to sit on his own bed mirroring the Gryffindor.

"And how did he discover this?" Harry asked, keeping the fear from his voice.

"By ripping it from my mind at the same time he found out that I _am still_ working for the Order," Draco firmly answered and then anticipating Harry's next question added, "you and Hermione should be more careful what you say in the library. It's easy for anyone to overhear you. Why do you think I got you Snape's book?"

"In hindsight," Harry said, lightly, "to flirt with Hermione?"

"Well, obviously," the blonde replied, "but what do you think she'd say if I'd brought something completely irrelevant?"

"Is there ever a time you're not strategizing over something?" The Gryffindor genuinely questioned.

"Well I obviously didn't think far enough ahead when I planned this," Draco swept both of his hands in Harry's direction and then across the room indicating the reaction to his kidnapping hadn't gone quite how he'd expected.

"What happened?"

"Now I get to be used as a potion ingredient," he bitterly answered. It would have been funnier - as every student who ever had Snape as a Potion's Professor had said that exact phrase - if somehow Harry didn't recognize it was true. "It was either that or get killed as a traitor… technically tortured and killed, but I'd already been tortured at that point. And yet, I didn't even get a choice in the matter because if it were up to me, you'd be sitting here alone."

For the longest time, silence filled the space between their beds, just the crackling of the fire and murmurs coming through the door leading out into the corridor echoed throughout the celestial room. Neither teen said a word - there was nothing to say - nor did they make eye contact, or dare to move from their position; both afraid that by disturbing the air it would break whatever truce that they had managed to land between them.

Harry was the one to finally break the silence. "I'm going to take a shower."

He looked through the set of clothes Narcissa had left at the foot of his bed and picked out a set of soft black pyjamas. With his arms wrapped tightly around the clothing, he slowly walked to the door leading to the - sure to be equally extravagantly decorated - lavatory.

"Towels are in the cupboard next to the sink," he heard Draco say right before he was about to leave the room.

Harry turned his head back towards the bedroom where his Slytherin roommate was now laying on his back staring up at nothing. And just like that, Harry knew things between them would work out on the end. Maybe they could figure a way out of this mess after all; one that didn't require subjecting themselves to being potions ingredients and whatever it was Voldemort had planned to 'keep Harry safe.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Narcissa Malfoy


	70. Narcissa Malfoy

~~~~HP~~~~

**_Wednesday 26, March 1997_ **

For Harry, the first week of his imprisonment at Malfoy Manor was far less eventful than he would have expected. Physically, he was feeling better than he had since his diagnosis and that was mostly due to the long break between Phase Three and Maintenance where he went two weeks without any chemotherapy - tablets or IVs - and was coming to an end on the upcoming Saturday. He was afraid to ask how they'd be obtaining and administering his muggle treatments, so he didn't, however that also didn't mean he was unaware of what had to happen.

So when Healer Walker told him they were prepared for Saturday, he knew Dr Swanson was somewhere in the Manor. Yet another person's life was in danger for him, building onto Draco's accusation from last week and weighing extremely heavily on his mind. All of that only increased his inability to sleep. Most of the nights, he'd lay awake staring at the ceiling or counting the stars on the walls, while listening to Draco's steady breathing from the other side of the room. During chemotherapy he couldn't sleep because of the pain, and now that the pain was gone - or more manageable - he couldn't sleep from his racing thoughts. Unfortunately, Healer Walker could tell his recent bout with insomnia was wearing on him, nevertheless he refused to take the sleeping tablets; no longer trusting what would happen while he was asleep.

Each day, Healer Walker or Narcissa brought their meals to them and each night whoever brought their dinner would stay and eat as a way to give them a bit more normalcy to the already bad situation. Harry very much preferred to have dinner with Healer Walker than Narcissa, but he could see Draco physically relax in the presence of his mother so he never complained. He would love to have his own mother there during that time if she could have been and he wasn't about to deny Draco that chance. He'd already caused enough problems, and they certainly didn't need any more of them.

By Monday, one of the women - though he had a feeling it may have been a joint effort - had made arrangements so they could actually leave their room for a short period of time each day as long as they were heavily guarded. To Harry, that would mean being followed and or escorted by a Death Eater, and he definitely didn't trust that arrangement. Voldemort just needed him _alive_ after all, nowhere did any of their extensive research say he could be almost dead to release the soul fragment; otherwise he probably would have done something about it by now. Recognizing that Harry was not comfortable leaving the small room yet - though Draco took every opportunity he could to leave, especially after learning exactly what his role would be in the upcoming ritual - Healer Walker managed to bring him a notebook and muggle pencils so he could sketch. At first he was so relieved to have something to take his mind off the sheer boredom, he didn't think much about it, but midway through his first drawing - Harry and Draco in their current predicament - it dawned on him that Snape must have told her about his hobby. That brought a whole slew of other questions: what did they talk about all day long? Were they in similar living quarters as he and Draco were?

"Is this your bedroom?" Harry asked that afternoon as they ate their lunch on their respective beds.

The Slytherin across from him literally laughed at the question.

"Oh, you were serious?" He rhetorically asked when Harry's face clearly showed he didn't find whatever he'd asked funny. "No, this is one of the _many_ guest rooms. Like I would have stars painted on my walls, c'mon Potter, use that brain of yours."

Harry rolled his eyes at the insult. After living together back at Hogwarts - albeit with less interaction - and then this week as actual roommates, they'd both learned to pick up on the other's small idiosyncrasies. Draco, for example, was exceedingly sarcastic or arrogant when a subject he was uncomfortable with was brought up, like his parents' position with Voldemort or his feelings about the upcoming ritual. Harry, on the other hand, got extremely quiet during similar conversations; for him that was usually related to what happened with Snape and dealing with his Leukemia. They eventually came to an unspoken agreement to stay away from those topics and therefore the Gryffindor was highly intrigued about his roommate's reaction to the logical question. Why wouldn't he assume this was Draco's bedroom?

"Alright," he answered, "so why wouldn't you get to stay in your own room? I imagine it was big enough for both of us?"

Again, that earned him another sarcastic laugh, "As the only heir to the Malfoy fortune, it definitely _is_ big enough for us. We'd be significantly more comfortable than here, but I also know at least a half dozen ways to sneak out of it and I guarantee you the Dark Lord anticipated that."

The way it was said made Harry think about the time Ron, Fred, and George rescued him from Privet Drive before second year. Harry couldn't even get out of his own bedroom through the normal door or window, let alone find four other ways out. That also wasn't taking into account that this room could probably fit two and a half of his rooms from Privet Drive, and the blonde was saying his was even bigger than this one.

"Where is your room compared to this one?"

"Going to try to take a peek at it, are you?" Draco jested. "That would actually require you to leave this room, just in case you didn't realize that already."

"Stop being such a prat," the Gryffindor called back, throwing one of his pillows across the room hitting Draco on his side. "I'm just trying to figure out where we are exactly."

"Good luck with that," he tossed the pillow back to Harry, "this is about a 4500 square meter mansion, knowing two rooms isn't going to tell you shite. But if you need to know, my room is down the corridor from this one, near my parents' room."

Harry nodded. There wasn't much else he was going to do with that information, but the thought that the other teen had walked by this room countless number of times and never realized he would be imprisoned in it was strange.

"Why don't you ever leave?" Draco asked him. "I can't imagine you like being locked up in a room all day."

"Wouldn't be the first time," it was a bitter comment that he hadn't meant to say and his green eyes - no longer dulled in pain or illness, which would change this Saturday when he started Maintenance Phase - were daring the Malfoy heir to ask.

Draco delayed his response by dramatically taking a bite of a chip that came with their sandwiches, "Don't be so dramatic, you weren't locked in your room during quarantine. It was only until Severus came home and could sanitize the rest of the rooms."

Harry didn't laugh though, nor did he say another word about it. He could feel Draco's hard glare against the top of his bald head, waiting for Harry to admit that it was those two awful weeks he was talking about.

"You've been locked in a bedroom before, haven't you?"

"Let's just say, it wasn't nearly as nice as this," Harry eventually replied, "but just like here there were people on the other side of the door that I really didn't want to see anyways, so it wasn't so bad. At least I have a lavatory here."

"Where did you grow up?" Draco asked. Harry turned his head in question about if the wizarding world had known he was in Little Whinging that whole time.

"Surrey," the Gryffindor said, "in a house where our kitchen and dining room could probably fit in here, and had zero architecture or character to it."

"That also means nothing can be changed," Draco commented with a sarcastic chuckle. "Most kids can make their room look how they want it to, but here these rooms cannot be touched."

Harry smiled, "So you're saying you don't have any Slytherin posters hanging up in your massive bedroom? No Quidditch teams?"

"My father would have fit over it if I had anything like that on my walls."

"Ron's bedroom is painted orange for the Chudley Cannons," Harry calmly said, but not casually enough because Draco coughed on his pumpkin juice.

"Don't ever compare anything of mine to the Weasels," he retorted back after gaining some composure.

"I'm just saying that it's ironic," Harry drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, "you're complaining-" he held up a hand to Draco's upcoming protest, "- commenting, about how you were never able to put even a Slytherin flag up, and Ron, who you mock relentlessly about his home, has his entire bedroom decorated to his favorite Quidditch team."

Draco didn't respond and Harry knew he'd managed to win that small argument.

"And what about your bedroom? The one you were locked in," the blonde eventually broke the silence with the question Harry should have expected. "Any Gryffindor flags adorning your walls?"

"Only during the summer," Harry thought back to the days he'd arrive back at Privet Drive, when he'd pull out his Gryffindor banners and pictures of his parents and friends from his trunk, putting them neatly in their temporary home for the next two months. It seemed pointless - and Draco wouldn't understand - but to him it was a necessity to get through those awful weeks before he returned to his real home: Hogwarts.

"You only decorated in the summer?" The Slytherin asked confused, "Why didn't you leave it up while you were gone?"

"Because it probably wouldn't be there when I returned," Harry answered almost too quickly. He had no doubt in his mind that Uncle Vernon went through his room after returning from Kings Cross Station every 1st of September just itching to throw out anything Harry may have accidentally left behind. "Let's just say the relatives I lived with didn't really like me living there."

"Dudley's parents?"

"Yeah," Harry found himself saying, "I told you Dudley and I only recently started getting along. As for my aunt and uncle, let's also say they were happier without me there."

He didn't mention that they left him to grow up in a cupboard under the stairs, or that if it weren't for Snape showing up in his lavatory that fateful night in July, they probably wouldn't have caught the Leukemia in time.

"Every wizarding kid," Draco said quietly, almost like he was afraid to mention it, "grew up knowing about the Boy-Who-Lived. To be honest, it never occurred to me that you wouldn't know a single thing about the wizarding world. I mean, if you asked any witch or wizard about our age, they'd tell you how jealous they were that you were so famous and would probably be going to Hogwarts with us. "

"Think about what you just said," Harry challenged, "I'm famous for not dying. That's all it was. My mother did it all."

"She was a muggleborn too," Draco said and in reaction to Harry's hard glare, he added, "there's nothing wrong with that, it's just ironic, don't you think?"

This was getting far too close to a topic he didn't want to talk about: the prophecy. Maybe sometime during their imprisonment he would be able to talk about it, but right now he just couldn't. The wound was still too fresh.

So in an effort to distract the Slytherin away from this he asked, "Are you nervous about tonight?"

The air in the room immediately changed; Harry had been hoping it would, but that didn't make him any more prepared for it. That night, or more accurately tomorrow, sometime before three o'clock in the morning, Draco would be brought for his first ritual. The way it was explained, Draco's pure blood - and something to do with the planets when he was born - could be used to clean out the cancer from Voldemort's, but only temporarily; every two nights the ritual would need to be repeated because the cancer would return. It sounded absolutely horrific and definitely considered Dark Magic. Harry still didn't know if Draco knew about Harry's blood being used for Voldemort's resurrection - and he didn't offer that information - but now they would both have something else, more rare, in common: their blood would reside within the evil wizard, Harry's killing him and Draco's attempting to heal him. At least Harry hadn't known about his blood being used in the resurrection until he was tied to the headstone, and by then he had more important things to worry about.

"What do you think?" Draco sharply replied. "How would you feel getting your blood drained every two nights?"

Not good, was obviously the first answer the Gryffindor thought of, but he chose not answer. No good would come from it.

"I'll probably be-"

"I'm going for a walk," Draco interrupted as he placed his plate on the tray and stood to stretch. "You want to come this time?"

Harry furrowed his brows like he was actually considering it when he already knew the answer.

"No," he replied, "I'm going do some more sketching."

"Suit yourself," the blonde nonchalantly replied. "I'll take your tray if you're done."

Harry nodded and the other teen stacked the plates and cups neatly before picking them up to head to the door.

"Who do you think my escort will be today?" Draco called out loud enough for the posted Death Eater to hear through the door, "Shall we see who's behind door number one?"

Harry laughed and shook his head recognizing Draco's need to cover up his true feelings about what was going to happen overnight and not at all blaming him for it. If Harry had to go through what the blonde would, he'd react the same way. At some point, it didn't do to dwell on the things you couldn't change and instead they needed to focus on what they could do and for Harry, that meant writing down everything he knew about Draco's bedroom. It didn't go unnoticed to the Gryffindor that if the teen had a half dozen ways to escape out of it, and it was near their current cell, they may be able to use that to their advantage to find a way to escape.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Harry called out to his roommate before he left.

"Trust me, Potter," Draco said before he left, "there are very few of your Gryffindor antics that I would actually be caught dead doing."

~~~~SS~~~~

"I can't do this," Nadine said, while pacing across the small space between their mattresses and the potions workbench. "This is completely barbaric and absolutely sickening."

Severus had been trying every way he knew how to get the healer mentally prepared for what she'd be doing in less than six hours. As someone who had taken a vow to protect and to heal, to purposefully cause harm to a patient instead was definitely something she was currently struggling with.

As for Severus that week, he'd only been out of their cell to deliver the Dark Lord's next round of potions last Saturday - during which the evil wizard took the opportunity to continue to torture his former Death Eater - and the rest of the week he'd been locked up. Having never been a social person, in either reality, he didn't expect the isolation and lack of natural daylight, even from an enchanted window, to wear on him as badly as it had and knowing Harry and Draco were being held here, at least in a guest room and not a cell, did not help the matter. Early on in the week, he found himself struggling to stay motivated and therefore changed strategies from doing all 64 phials of potion at once to doing a smaller set everyday. It was less efficient overall, but gave him something to focus his nervous mind on.

When Nadine returned the previous week with the cryptic message from Harry about the loss of his magic, he ended up in a fit of rage that terrified his roommate. Not only would this put the young wizard at a disadvantage at the Manor, it would weigh negatively on his mental fortitude; constantly questioning what he'd do should they actually get out of this seemingly impossible situation, and if the soul fragment could ever be removed giving him access to the rest of his magical core which would then need to be retrained. It wasn't supposed to be like this, he was supposed to be by Harry's side to help him through this transition, especially considering the whole idea of draining his top core had been the professor's idea. Now, the young wizard would have no one there, likely not wanting to admit that he was magicless; he couldn't defend himself even if he had access to a wand. After his raging fit, the healer - oblivious to why that simple statement would yield that reaction - gave him a little more space, at least until the ritual was upon them and she started to panic herself.

Each day, he had casually asked Nadine about both of the teens she'd been caring for, eventually leading to her picking up on his concerns for the two wizards. From then on, she would bring him a very detailed report after every visit, or dinner if she ate with them that night. Draco recovered well from his experience with the Dark Lord and, as of Monday when they were granted the privilege, spent as much time as he could get away with by wandering in the gardens under a heavy watch from at least one - possibly two since the Malfoy heir knew the area so well - guard. Mentally, he knew his Slytherin would keep all of his anxiety about the upcoming procedure building up inside of him, not unlike Harry before his very first chemotherapy treatment back in July. It was an unfortunate reality that eventually this would become normal to the blonde, just as Harry became accustomed to his own treatments. Suddenly, creating the potions to poison the Dark Lord seemed all the more important; then they would only be dealing with a shadow like in his own reality. It wouldn't be ideal, but it would save them in the immediate and that was where he needed to place his focus.

Harry, on the other hand, had not once left the room where they were being held prisoner. Even back at Privet Drive, Severus had required Harry to be at the table for as many meals as he physically could be at so his mind could have a change of scenery. Being isolated away now, stuck in his own thoughts about the unknown on top of everything else Severus knew he was struggling with, was bound to be a toxic combination. As a way to help the Gryffindor, he suggested to Nadine that she try to obtain for him a sketchbook and muggle pencils - a request that earned him a peculiar look - but she did oblige his request. The next day, her report on Harry was much more positive.

"Are you trained in Occlumency?" He asked the frantic witch in front of him. Based on the look she gave him, she not only wasn't trained in it, she didn't have a clue of what he was talking about.

They'd gone through all of the physical requirements of the ritual: what incisions to make in which location, how to collect the blood in the best manner to prevent excess blood loss for Draco - unfortunately the Dark Lord did not carry any risk of blood loss in this process - and when the optimal timing was to give the Blood Replenishing Potion. That last one she'd already known and because of that, he received a very pointed lecture on what exactly Healers learned for their given profession compared to a Potion's Masters. It was her way of dealing with what she was being forced to do, but with his own foul mood they proceeded to spend the next several hours in an awkward silence.

"How many people have you killed?" She stopped her pacing when she realized the question she'd just asked, "I didn't mean-"

"Too many," he interrupted her with an honest answer she wasn't expecting."

"How did you…"

"First, this is not the same," he stood to face her so what he was about to say would have more meaning than empty words, "You are not killing someone. Quite the opposite actually, you're actually trying to heal even if we'd both rather that particular wizard not be healed.

"Second, and this is a very important point, you are being coerced into it. While I eventually changed my alliances, the deaths I caused while I voluntarily supported the Dark Lord, are my own. I did not need to be convinced to do them, I had my own justifications for them however it was absolutely not the same."

"I just…" she sat upon her bed and hung her head into her hands.

"You'll do this because if you don't, he'll kill you and find someone else," the former Death Eater bluntly told her, "and if that happens, he may replace you with someone less gentle and kind. Think about what would happen to Draco if Bellatrix were making the incisions."

Nadine shivered, "She'll be there saying the incantations."

"And that will be terrifying enough for Draco," he pointed out, "imagine if she were the one wielding the knife."

The healer nodded, but it didn't help to improve her pallid face. Knowing what one had to do didn't necessarily translate to accepting one's fate.

"You should try to sleep," he eventually ended the uncomfortable silence, "two o'clock in the morning will be here far too soon."

Even with the lanterns extinguished - the fire would stay lit all night otherwise they would not only be too cold in the dungeons, but they would not be able to see a hand in front of their face - both prisoners sat awake on their mattresses. He went through his own struggles in his mind while waiting for the healer's breathing to even out, indicating that she'd fallen asleep. It never came though. If she was going to do this every other night, Severus knew she would need to find some way to accept what was happening. As the minutes and hours ticked by, the professor inventoried in his head all of the ingredients they had available in the small laboratory - almost all of which were needed for the Dark Lord's potions - and the small amount of healing potions they had at their disposal. If he got creative with two or three of the ingredients and sacrificed at least one pain potion, he was confident he could put together a decent calming draught to help her get through at least the next week's worth of rituals. Hopefully by that point, she would come to terms with her latest task and they'd be able to finally start to come up with the next step in their escape plan.

~~~~HP~~~~

As with Snape's quarters back at Hogwarts, the celestial room - as Harry had started to call it - had a clock over the mantle that the young wizard tried very hard not to watch, especially as he was up late into the middle of the night. Unique to this particular night though, was that Draco's deep even breaths, indicating the blonde was asleep, were not heard throughout the room. Harry tried to keep his own breathing relaxed as he stared at the ceiling pleading with his mind to shut down and go to sleep, knowing the effort would be futile.

"Shouldn't you try to get some sleep while you can?" Harry asked across the darkened room.

There was a three second delay in the other wizard's reply, "As if you can talk. I know you don't sleep every night."

"And who's fault is that?" the Gryffindor replied. "Maybe if I hadn't been drugged, I would feel a little better about taking the medication meant to help with that."

Again, there was a long pause. "That's fair," Draco answered, "I wouldn't quite trust it either."

Harry turned to face the direction of the other bed, "So then, why aren't you sleeping?"

He could hear rustling from across the room and a hard sigh, "I refuse to let them have the satisfaction of waking me up tonight. I want to do this on my own terms. I'm sure that won't always be the case, but for the first time I'm not going to show them a gram of weakness."

"That's fair," Harry mirrored Draco's previous response. "I'd probably do the same thing."

The more he lived with the Malfoy heir - really lived with him, not just shared a set of quarters with rooms on opposite ends - the more he was amazed with how similar they really were. They couldn't have grown up any more different, and yet Harry felt like Draco was a Slytherin version of himself. Not for the first time he questioned to himself if he would have turned out closer to what Draco was like, a little more arrogant and overconfident, if his parents hadn't been killed. That single event had so many different repercussions that came from it, both good and bad. In the end though, Harry liked who he was, but would he have grown up to be the same person if he had lived in a full wizarding house instead of in a cupboard under the stairs of a muggle one?

"Eventually, I'm sure I'll get used to it," the Slytherin continued. Harry wanted to say he didn't think that would be possible, but he could tell Draco wasn't done yet. "I mean… I'm sure you were really nervous before your first muggle treatment? And now… well, you don't even flinch when the needle gets anywhere near you, but that hasn't always been the case, right?"

The pleading in that last word was loud and clear. Harry was so surprised by the analogy and he turned his head inquisitively in thinking about it. His first chemotherapy felt like a lifetime ago, somehow even further than his port insertion even though that happened first. And did Draco sound… envious of Harry's reaction to it all?

"Yeah," the Gryffindor answered, "I was more nervous about the surgery for my port though. They had to give me medication to fall asleep and, well, cut a hole in my chest to put it in."

"That's… " Draco started to respond, but trailed off momentarily, "I was going to say barbaric, although it's not much different than what I'm about to have done. At least you were guaranteed to be asleep for it, and I'm not leaving with anything inside of me."

Giving a small chuckle at that small concession, Harry said, "As for the actual first treatment, I used to use a salve that made the port area numb so it didn't hurt, but I don't need it anymore. I guess they just did a lot of little things to make it as comfortable as possible. Maybe Healer Walker can get something like that for your arm."

"I doubt it," the Slytherin responded, "But you were still… nervous… right?"

Scared. That was the word the other teenager had wanted to use, except his pride wouldn't let him admit to being something so weak. Under normal circumstances, Harry would never admit to that either - especially when talking to Draco - however these weren't normal circumstances and Draco was indeed scared about what would happen in less than a half an hour.

"Of course I was scared," Harry confidently said, "I still am. Even though the chemotherapy is mostly tablet based for the next three years, it doesn't mean I'm in the clear yet. I can still get a blood test back that says the cancer returned and then I start all over, but with a significantly worse prognosis." He paused expecting Draco to make some comment about how dramatic he was being. When he was met with silence though, he continued, "That first one, though? I was terrified. I practically skipped over all the information I was given to read hoping if I ignored it for as long as possible, it wouldn't be real."

"Sounds like something I'd do," was mumbled from the other bed.

An odd companionable silence enveloped the room and Harry's eyes fell to the foot of his bed where he watched dying flames in the fireplace flicker up the sides. He heard rustling from Draco's side of the room again and saw his lanky figure move to the window and stand there staring out at the glowing gardens. Without any warning, their heavy door creaked open and Harry instantly recognized Dolohov and Rookwood. They strided into the bedroom, not even attempting to damper their heavy footsteps, with their wands brandished aggressively. Clearly, the two Death Eaters had been anticipating a fight and not for their prisoner to be standing there waiting for them. Draco had wanted to appear strong as well as in complete control that night, and Harry was proud of his friend for having accomplished exactly that. Dolohov recovered from his small fit of shock first and roughly grabbed the blonde by one arm - so hard that even Harry flinched - while Rookwood seized the other, both of them sparing a watchful glance at the one bed still occupied. Harry gave a small, imperceptible nod to Draco as the teen was walked out of their room for the first of many nights being used as the latest cure for the most evil wizard of their time.

Neither Harry nor Draco talked about the details of the ritual. As curious as Harry was about it, he didn't want to put the other wizard in a position to have to explain it. So leading into that first night, all the Gryffindor knew about it was that it had to take place at three in the morning and they needed several - he thought five, except the more he considered it, he wasn't sure someone could survive that - chalices of Draco's blood. The other thing the two teenage wizards did not discuss was what would happen after the ritual. Harry assumed a combination of Death Eaters - most likely Dolohov and Rookwood again - would return the Malfoy heir to their room, but what condition would the Slytherin be in? Losing as much blood as Harry thought several chalices would be, he wasn't likely to come sauntered back into their room and go to bed. As the clock on the mantle ticked to three on the hour - the time they'd officially be starting the ritual - Harry decided he'd wait up for his roommate to help him in whatever way the other teen needed. It wasn't like he'd be able to sleep anyways, every time he closed his eyes he was brought back to that dark blood red room where Shape first delivered that awful prophecy to Voldemort. It was probably the least horrific of his nightmares, and yet the one that plagued his mind the most.

Deciding that he didn't want to stay in bed, the young wizard grabbed his sketchbook and pencils from his bedside table, and settled in front of the fireplace. He started a new picture yesterday of Draco with Hermione. Given everything going on, he hoped to help raise Draco's spirits with this small picture of home. So focused on his work, Harry missed the door opening to his right and jumped when a single figure approached him.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Narcissa's voice broke through his moment of panic. "I was hoping to be here when Draco returned."

Throughout the week, the Gryffindor hadn't much to add during their occasional dinners with the Matriarch, and instead he simply watched the mother and son interact in a very guarded fashion. It was nothing like he'd ever imagined his own interactions with his mum, but it was far better than what he had - nothing - so who was he to judge them. The fact that she was here waiting for his return, meant more than any words she could have ever said to him.

"I'm not sure how long it's supposed to take," Harry replied, cringing at how awkward he sounded to someone so prim and proper.

"Mind if I join you while we wait?" She motioned to the empty space across from him on the floor of Draco's side of the fireplace. Harry was astonished that someone like her would want to sit on the floor with him.

"Sure," that answer earned him another cringe.

With all the grace he would expect from the Slytherin witch, she practically glided down to the floor, sitting with her legs neatly tucked to her side. Harry knew she was a Black, and wondered if she'd learned this level of etiquette from that elite pureblood family or once she married into the fortune of the Malfoys. They sat in an uncomfortable silence; more so than any other silence Harry had ever experienced. He had no idea what to say to the witch across from him and he didn't want to draw attention to his sketching by continuing with it. That left him feeling like he wanted to fidget and had no way to release the nervous tension.

"You've been granted permission to visit the gardens," she said to him once it seemed they could go no longer in the silence. "I know Draco has visited, but I don't think I've seen you leave yet."

He wasn't aware she was keeping such a close eye on him or that he was expected to leave just because he could. Should he tell her he was afraid of being alone with the Death Eaters, her husband being one of them?

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry replied, hoping that would be enough for her to move on.

The minutes continued to tick by and the young wizard was just about to excuse himself to bed - figuring Draco had his mum there and Harry's presence wasn't needed - when Narcissa said, "Thank you. For giving Draco a chance. I doubt he would have gotten very far without your support."

Feeling himself flush, in embarrassment or anger he wasn't exactly sure, the Gryffindor thought back to his expressive reactions to Draco's alliance with the Order. No, he definitely had nothing to do with keeping Draco out of Azkaban; if the choice had been his, the Slytherin wouldn't have been allowed back for the school year. In hindsight, it was probably for the best that Snape didn't listen to his pleading not to trust the blonde.

"It's Snape you should be thanking," Harry honestly replied. "He's been looking out for Draco probably longer than even I'm aware of."

Much to Harry's surprise, the witch across from him didn't hide her own astonishment at his proclamation. Why did everyone assume he had so much power in the Order? He knew, of course, it was the fact that he'd survived the killing curse as a toddler - it always came back to that event - but the truth was he had zero power over what happened in the war against the evil wizard and even less in how his own role fit into that plan.

Not wanting to validate her reaction with a response, he simply stood fully intent on heading to his bed. He didn't make it though, instead the door once again swung open revealing the dark outline of three people. Two large Death Eaters - Dolohov and Rookwood - once again sandwiched Draco's tall, thin frame, but this time they were dragging him into the room as opposed to how they escorted him out only an hour and a half earlier. As they approached the pair - Narcissa no longer seated on the floor, but between the Death Eaters and Harry in front of the fireplace - the Gryffindor got a good view of Draco. The young Slytherin wizard had his head hung low, though this was more due to his lack of energy than the normal shame that one would expect with that body language, and his feet were dragging behind him. Dolohov and Rookwood didn't even attempt to slow when the teen's feet caught at the edge of the rug, rather they pulled hard causing even Harry to cringe at the odd angle Draco's bare feet ended up in; the partially conscious wizard only murmured something completely incomprehensible, but whatever he'd said it was intended for his two captors.

"He's been healed," Rookwood called out, practically tossing the young wizard into his mother's arms, "and he's had the maximum dose of Blood Replenishing Potion. Nothing else we can do."

Harry took a half step closer, but stopped at the obvious scent of urine emanating from his roommate. Saying a silent wish that the other teen wouldn't remember this - he'd unfortunately been there himself during a few particularly awful chemotherapy days - he grimaced in sympathy.

"Yeah," Dolohov said, picking up on Harry's expression, "he's pissed himself somewhere on the stairs. Might want to go clean it up, _Narcissa_."

That last statement, with the added emphasis on the Malfoy Matriarch's name, was meant to degrade her; to show her that they were in charge of the Manor no matter which family had occupied the premises for the previous centuries.

Harry watched her carefully and with as much grace as she had sitting with him on the floor, she raised her head proud and replied, "It will get taken care of." She then draped her son's right arm - the one that hadn't been cut up in the ritual - over her shoulder. "Come Draco, let's get you cleaned up."

The Gryffindor hesitated when the mother and son started slowly walking to the lavatory, unsure if he should provide any assistance during such a private moment. Rookwood took the opportunity to reach towards Harry, his large hands barely grazing the Gryffindor's shoulder before Harry instinctively pulled back and Dolohov stopped his partner.

"We have our orders," Dolohov exclaimed, "he's not to be touched by _anyone_."

"It would be so easy," Rookwood responded with a snarl. Then with a hiss through his teeth, he added, "I don't know what it is the Dark Lord wants with you, but you're lucky… for now."

Releasing the breath be hadn't known he was holding, the two Death Eaters unceremoniously left the room. With Draco and his mother already in the lavatory presumably cleaning up, Harry decided to try and sleep. Hopefully the next ritual night would be less eventful, otherwise he would just have to get used to never sleeping again because there was no way he was leaving himself vulnerable in the night when whichever two Death Eaters came by to return their specimen.

* * *

**_Saturday 29, March 1997_ **

"Harry…" the Gryffindor stirred in his plush bed at the sound of his name. It was a familiar voice, one that he wasn't terrified from, yet not comforting enough to bring him back from the much needed sleep he so rarely found.

It was the morning after the second ritual, and just as with the first, Harry and Draco both stayed awake talking about nothing of substance - mostly about schooling before Hogwarts, or more specifically how most wizarding children were homeschooled or tutored before they went away to one of the magical boarding schools - until a new set of Death Eaters came to collect the Malfoy heir. That morning's collection crew was Yaxley and Rabastan, and they both took about half a minute talking to the guard left on duty at his door before leaving; tonight's was Rodolphus. The small exchange gave Harry the idea of keeping track of which Death Eaters were on duty at any given time. At some point, even dark wizards had to sleep since Invigorating Draught could only do so much, and the young wizard knew first hand how difficult it was to function after several nights in a row of little to no sleep. If he could figure out their schedule, both guarding the door at any given time and the crew to bring Draco to where Voldemort was for the rituals, he might be able to use that to his advantage. The possibility of an escape was still very far away, but if he focused now he could try to find the weaknesses and areas he could exploit. So he donated a section in the back of his sketchbook to escape notes and schedules, leaving the last couple of pages to fill in with innocuous drawings to keep its real contents hidden. His dedication to his new plan required him to do two additional things: get more sleep and to start exploring the area immediately around their room as well as the grounds around the Manor. Next week, once he was recovered from, or more accurately adjusted to, the start of his Maintenance Phase he would figure out a better way to get sleep and make his first journey out onto the grounds.

Today, though, was supposed to be his first chemotherapy in the Manor and for some reason he was more nervous than he had been almost any other time. For one, Snape wouldn't be here during it, and while he had done plenty of ITs and one-hour IVs without the professor, this was his start to Maintenance; it was a day he'd been expecting to spend with the man and start to feel some semblance of normalcy for the next almost three years. Now he'd be spending it in a room he was still not comfortable in, with a roommate who would be able to hear every retch, groan, and moan, and without knowing if he could trust whoever would be delivering his new tablet medications on their complicated schedule.

"Harry," the kind voice called out to him again, "you need to wake up now."

If only it were that easy to simply open his heavy eyelids. After Draco was taken away by Yaxley and Rabastan, Narcissa joined him in the room to once again wait on Draco. This time, the Matriarch brought with her Wizard's Chess board and the two of them played in silence until Draco returned only marginally better than the first night. Yesterday, between the ritual nights, Healer Walker assured him that the other teen wasn't in any danger, but he was certain he could hear doubt in her voice so he didn't press for further answers. Her dull blue eyes told him everything he needed to know; that this ritual was keeping Draco _alive_ even if it came with a 'higher than anyone would like' risk of death.

"C'mon, Harry," this time the voice pleaded with him in almost a panic, that he knew if he denied her the result something bad would happen to one or both of them. When he finally was able to crack his eyes open he was equally surprised and horrified to see Dr Swanson's face taking up most of his field of vision, "There you are."

She smiled at him like they weren't both being held against their will and once he was able to sit up, he immediately found the cause of her panic; standing directly over her right shoulder - watching every single move she made - was a female Death Eater Harry wasn't completely familiar with, but thought her name was something Carrow.

"Sorry," he said nervously, "it's been a rough-" he wasn't sure how much his muggle doctor knew about Draco and the Blood Ritual - he assumed nothing - so he didn't want to give her too much information, "-couple of nights."

Picking up on his hesitation, she nodded, "The healer says you haven't been sleeping well?"

"No, I haven't," he admitted, rubbing his eyes with the balls of his hands almost as a demonstration to his exhaustion, "I'm not comfortable taking the sleeping pills either."

"I understand," those two words told him everything he needed to know. She'd been brought up to date about what had happened to him and what her new monthly job was here; one that if she failed to do she would be killed. "I can add the melatonin you were taking back in January nightly which should help you fall asleep a little more naturally."

"Every other night," he said and looked over to Draco's bed where the blonde was still fast asleep.

"Of course," another code to tell him she knew he was worried about his own safety when the Death Eaters came to return Draco.

She pulled out a piece of paper that he recognized was his blood sample results that she must have run while he was sleeping, though he didn't know how she was able to run them at the hospital. He figured they had to have some way of getting her to the hospital to get his medications and however they did that, they would do the same for his blood work. It was either Polyjuice Potion or - and he inwardly groaned when he realized this was the most likely option - the Imperious Curse. He wanted to ask her how she was; if, as a muggle, she'd been treated alright seeing as she was the key to his livelihood, but he could already see his answer in her body language. As she prepared the antiemetic, her hands were uncharacteristically shaking, and he was sure there were bruises trailing down the side of her neck under her black muggle jumper.

When he was set up with the IV of antiemetic attached to his port, the door opened and in walked Narcissa following two trays of breakfast. She gave a small gasp at the sight of the two extra adults she likely hadn't anticipated being in the room, though her concentration on the trays never faltered.

"Severus told me that you like to have porridge for breakfast before your treatments," Narcissa explained, floating the tray containing a bowl of hot porridge, a plate assortment of fruits, and toast with peanut butter, over to his bed. On the tray, there was also a goblet of pumpkin juice, a glass of water and a small cup of his medications. Harry unexpectedly gave her a smile on a "thank you" because it was such a small comfort from home that made him warm inside.

Dr Swanson was all business though, when she immediately dumped the small cup of his medications onto his tray and started walking him through each one, presumably so he would be able to recognize if he was getting something he shouldn't be. There were his normal prophylactic tablets that he would continue taking as the chemotherapy ones would cause his white blood cells to drop lower than normal. Thankfully, it wasn't enough to issue a full quarantine, but he would be subjected to the tablets until all of his chemotherapy treatment was considered completed; a date that felt like forever away. For the first five days of each month, from the day of his monthly Saturday IV - with or without an IT - through that first Wednesday, he would take two tablets that were the same ones that caused his aggression in Phase Three. She reiterated that given the shorter time frame and dosage, he likely wouldn't have the same volatile reaction, and Harry had to hold back a smirk when he saw Narcissa's eyebrows rise at the warning. Then on each of the other Saturdays when he didn't have an IV treatment, he'd receive a single, completely different chemotherapy tablet, and since she would not be here to bring it to him, the muggle doctor showed him a detailed picture of what it looked like. Finally, and probably the easiest to remember, was his daily chemotherapy tablet which would accompany his dinner every night. This one needed to be taken an hour after eating because any food in his stomach would decrease its effectiveness - which was obviously bad - and needed to be taken with only water. Again, she showed him a detailed picture of what it should look like. When everything from Maintenance Phase was said and done, he'd take over 1,000 of just that daily tablet and total it would be about 1,500 chemotherapy tablets, just from this day through the end; which in some kind of strange irony was Christmas Day 1999. He got the point loud and clear through: he needed to be watchful over every single tablet - all 1,500 plus the prophylactic ones - he took from here until he… ultimately he wasn't sure exactly what was going to be happening to him. His best guess was that he'd probably be killed once Voldemort figured out how to make another Horcrux and Draco would follow as soon as the Leukemia was gone. He tried not to focus on that though, otherwise it would only depress him further.

Like every other normal treatment day, he ate his breakfast, had a quick shower after the antiemetic was done dripping, and when he returned, next to his bed was the exam table where he would be getting the IT completed. This was the part he was the most nervous about because he hadn't had an IT done in almost a month; since the first day of his second _hell week_ back at the beginning of the month. Harry thought back to that time - it had been on Ron's birthday and he fully intended on celebrating his friend's coming of age until everything went so wrong - as he tried to lay still in the fetal position with his spine exposed for his muggle doctor. He was facing towards Draco's bed and every so often his eyes met with the grey ones that were now awake and slowly eating his own breakfast, his mother right at his side. Grief filled the Gryffindor, as he tried not to shake from his nerves, at the thought of how much he wanted Snape to be there. The professor usually helped hold him still for these procedures and now his absence was a dark cloud hanging over the young wizard's already negative mind. Draco's eyes though weren't all there yet, he was still gaining back his strength as the blood replenishing potion worked its way through his body correcting what had been forcibly taken from him. It was Narcissa though, who looked back at him each time Draco's turned towards Harry, with both horror over the muggle treatment and compassion for the child she saw enduring this alone.

"Harry," the Gryffindor heard Dr Swanson's alarming voice call out from behind him, "I need you to try and stay completely still. I know you can do this."

He nodded and closed his eyes, trying not to feel the burning stares from the other people in the room.

 _Occlumency_ , he thought. If he could get his forest up then just maybe he could get through this and not have to worry about it again for another month.

"Here," Narcissa's voice spoke above his head, "how can I help?"

Harry wasn't sure who was more surprised, himself or Dr Swanson. Gaining composure over herself, the muggle physician said, "It's important he stay completely still. Can you assist with that?"

Narcissa's hands were centimeters away from his skin, he could feel their warm presence radiating onto him, but just before they touched him, she asked, "Are you alright with this?"

It was a simple question that somehow threw him off because it seemed like he rarely was given options about things. Unable to find his voice, he nodded his consent to allow her to help him stay perfectly still. He didn't want to feel grateful, except the gratitude simply filled him up inside, temporarily masking the grief he'd previously been feeling. It was still there, like the warming spell on the navy rug; always present, even if his feet weren't touching it to feel it.

Somehow, the Gryffindor made it through the rest of his first Maintenance treatment relatively uneventfully; at least no more than usual. Given the extra size of the bedroom, Harry wasn't used to the longer walk - or in urgent matters, run - to the lavatory, nor was he used to an audience most of the day. Right after lunch, Draco was mostly back to normal, and he left to take his daily afternoon walk. Harry had assumed the Malfoy witch would have accompanied her son, so when he was laying on the lavatory floor when he heard the heavy bedroom door close, he was surprised when another person walked quietly into the lavatory beside him. His body was shaking from the vomiting and Draco's old black pyjamas clung to his thin frame from sweat. It was an awful feeling to be stuck somewhere between hot and cold, but the thought that he would get the next three Saturdays chemo-free almost got him through it.

A warm cloth was pressed to the back of his neck and he wanted to protest, to tell her that he was fine and could do it alone, but it warmed him in just the right places. They didn't speak - Harry was far too tired and embarrassed to say anything - and for the longest time they sat there on the plush grey rug on the floor, reminiscent of those awkward early days at Privet Drive with Snape. He yearned for those simpler times, when he wasn't even thinking about Voldemort, he knew -or at least he thought he did - where he stood with the "evil Potion's Master", the idea of losing his magic was only a possibility instead of a reality, and he was completely oblivious to the extra piece of soul next to his own that would both help and haunt him. In the end though, he knew he couldn't go back and he was far too exhausted to listen to his pride and refuse the help. Narcissa stayed mostly by his side that day and later would go back to the dungeons and give Snape a complete report - parent to parent - over how Harry handled the first treatment in hopes of easing the professor's anxious mind.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Forgiveness


	71. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I really have no reason for Snape or Harry to join the Blood Ritual, my POV doesn't show what might happen during it. French_charlotte wrote a companion piece from Draco's POV detailing the ritual and was written to fit into the before/after scene of the last chapter. If you're interested in what happened, check it out (remove spaces below and replace "dot" with a period):
> 
> archiveofourown "dot" org / works / 26976010

~~~~HP~~~~

**_Thursday 17th, April 1997_ **

Dr Swanson had been right - as she usually was - that by adding the melatonin on the non-ritual nights to help Harry sleep, would better his mental health overall. His new chemotherapy schedule had taken some getting used to, but after a month he knew the exact tablets to take and when to take them, which helped ease the anxiety of the unknown and made his first of 36 months relatively easy, especially compared to the previous nine months. Looking back, it was hard and he still had a long way to go until the cancer was behind him, but was proud he'd endured it and sad that he had no one to share this moment with. If this had been back at Hogwarts - before the vision - he would be able to go to Snape about this, and he could almost hear the man's prideful baritone voice tell him that was an accomplishment and he should feel good about how far he'd come. Instead though, he was being held hostage and "protected" not for his own good this time, for Voldemort's. He was now approaching his second IT and IV treatment this Saturday and he was starting to understand how patients could miss those very necessary appointments. Each day since his treatment last month, he'd been getting stronger and starting to feel just a little more normal and a little more like his pre-cancer self.

Roughly two weeks ago, when he was finally caught up on as much sleep as he would be able to get and he'd compiled all the notes he could about his various Death Eater guards, Harry decided to venture out of the safety of his cell. His first time leaving the small room in almost a month - and January since he'd technically been outside - was a little overwhelming to his system. It didn't help that he'd had Yaxley as a guard, who somehow didn't seem to mind "babysitting the Boy-Who-Lived" as Dolohov snickered to them when they passed. The Gryffindor was still trying to figure out the exact dynamic of the Death Eaters at the Manor. There were certain ones, like Yaxley, who didn't seem to mind being on guard duty and others who made it clear that the only reason he and Draco weren't being torn limb from limb was because of their orders and they clearly didn't understand or agree with them. So far, Harry flat out refused to go when either Carrow was on guard, too afraid after a close call with an Avada Kedavra curse that raced by his head to kill a bug near the hedge maze.

So far, Harry had been lucky not to have to see Voldemort and he had a feeling that was not coincidental. Whispers throughout the corridors spoke about his declining health and the potions - that presumably Snape was making - aiding with the effects. The young wizard had to think back to what the Leukemia symptoms had been like without the chemotherapy and admittedly, he had a hard time differentiating them. He'd been really tired, going as far as falling asleep in those last few classes of last year, and he was bleeding a lot, both as bruising and nosebleeds. That last observation made him laugh when he thought about the serpentine wizard bleeding from his almost non-existent nose and he wanted to go as far as to make a sketch of it and keep it by his bedside table. The point, though, was that Voldemort didn't suddenly get better the day he'd take the potions and that made Harry feel just a little more justice to his own struggle with his treatments, especially when he thought about the crossroad he _could have_ taken.

In those two weeks he'd been leaving his room, he also came to the conclusion that it was not coincidental - or accidental - when their Death Eater escorts walked them different ways through the Manor. He could only assume it was to keep him guessing where to go in the massive mansion - making it harder for him to map it out by morning - or to keep him away from others who might be wandering the halls; freely - like the Death Eaters - or also guarded, like Healer Walker, Dr Swanson, or Snape. That wasn't to say the time in the corridors was wasted because he'd never be able, or more accurately patient enough, to map it out. Tapping into his newer Slytherin side, he used the time from his bedroom through the corridors out to the same area in the back garden, to test his boundaries a little at a time. It started with his physical boundary by seeing how far he could separate himself from the Death Eater of the day, finding that some liked him to be within arms reach while others never let go of his wrist, shoulder, or upper arm. Then he tested his mental boundaries by asking seemingly random questions about the manor like: where were they, when was the Manor built, how many bedrooms and lavatories were there, what was the biggest Malfoy family to live here - which none of them knew - and was there a fireplace in _every_ single room? Some of the questions were innocent and a way to hide his true intentions, but others were ways he could add to his notes as he tried to find a way out of their complicated situation.

Today, the afternoon before a ritual, he was sitting out by the large fountain listening to the running water trickle down the stone sides in a calming cadence that reminded him of Shell Cottage; no matter what his current feelings were for the professor, he missed the sea and his time at the cottage with Snape. Back there, life had been simple and after the vision of the New Year's Eve attack, he should have tried to convince Snape not to leave. Nothing was really waiting for him back at Hogwarts, they could have stayed hidden there until it was safe to remove the soul fragment, living their life in a simple manner. He'd been watching the fountain from the bedroom window since the day they arrived a month ago, however the water did not start flowing until he started sitting next to it each afternoon. It could have a magical way to sense the presence of a visitor and that person's need to see and hear the water, but if he had to bet, he would put his galleons on Narcissa activating it for the young wizard.

Unlike most fountains Harry had previously seen in his muggle and wizarding experience, this one was rectangular with each of the corners cut giving it an odd, but elegant shape. It had seven square layers reach up and out at various angles allowing the water to flow in a way that had to have some level of magic involved. Since his magic ban in July, he'd gotten used to living as a magicless wizard - refusing to call himself a squid since his condition was hopefully only temporary - yet he was still amazed with the things magic could accomplish. That was one of the reasons he was drawn to this particular section of the gardens to add notes to his sketchbook and work on his sketching as a way to hide his subterfuge. Between the overly colorful flowers and the running waters from the fountain, it was the closest place to relaxing that he could ever find in the large - too much for his liking - and dark mansion.

The weather hadn't always been as clear and crisp as it was on that Thursday, and he was thankful every morning he awoke and saw the warm sun shining through the navy curtains of their picture window. On days it was rainy and dreary, he couldn't stand the cold seeping into his bones as well as Draco could, and on those days had to settle for a quick walk around the garden. Originally, he planned not to subject himself to those elements, still unsure how his body would react to the weather and he hadn't wanted to risk pneumonia again, but he quickly discovered that certain Death Eater guards - specifically Goyle, Macnair, and Mulciber - were more likely to ease up on their watch of him and Draco during the worst of the weather, allowing him to scope out their physical boundaries of the gardens more effectively. So far, he'd discovered that no matter the weather or the guard, they were forbidden to enter the maze, drawing his attention to its possible future use.

While he couldn't gather as much information on the sunny and warm days, it always helped him to clear his mind so he could work his way through whatever the latest problem was plaguing it. Today that was finding more ways to explore inside the Manor, because knowing how to leave the property only worked if they could actually get outside of the Manor first and their small walks through the corridors from point A to point B are extremely time consuming to plot out.

"You've been pouring over that notebook for weeks," Draco's taunting voice declared as he approached the fountain from behind. Unlike Harry, who always opted for the most comfortable of clothing - though given Draco's selection, it contained no muggle jeans - the Slytherin still tried to dress as if he were simply home for a holiday, and therefore was in a nice crisp set of black and silver robes. He was accompanied by his own guard - Avery today - and Harry quickly turned the page to one of his many in progress drawings; him and Snape sitting on the porch at Shell Cottage, "What are you working on?"

Things with the Malfoy heir had taken a comfortable turn over the last month as they fell into a pleasant rhythm and routine. With ritual nights keeping them up long into the night, every other day they would often have a lie in the next morning with neither boy waking up until late morning. The first week of those long ritual nights started out stressful and tense as they adjusted to each other's role in the events. Harry took it upon himself to try to keep Draco as distracted as possible in the hours leading up to his "collection" - as the blonde had started referring to the time the Death Eaters arrived - and most of the time he accomplished this by either talking to the teen about growing up in the wizarding world or more simply just playing games; chess being their favorite. Back at Privet Drive and his home in Hogwarts, when Harry played many games of chess with Snape, the professor let the young wizard organically learn what his mistakes were and how to better strategize. Here, in their middle of the night games, Harry learned that Draco was a natural instructor of the game and he fell into an almost calming state walking Harry through each of his mistakes or potential mistakes. Typically, this would frustrate the Gryffindor and he would have hexed his roommate long ago, admittedly though, Draco was very effective at teaching it, meaning their games became significantly more interesting, plus it helped Harry think more strategically in his overall plan to escape. For the latter, he figured out long ago that couldn't just take a run for it and hope to make it past the wards - for one, as far as he could tell, their room was all the way in the corner of the second story, and for two, they would encounter far too many Death Eaters along the way - so he was using that time with the Slytherin to learn to be a little more cunning with chess as their guide.

Each night after Draco left for the ritual, Narcissa would come and stay until her son arrived back, staggering just as much as he did that first night and she immediately fell into a caretaker role for the other wizard. Harry found himself wondering if Draco's healer ambition wasn't so random after all and if his mother had ever thought about that profession. As far as he knew, the elder Malfoys didn't work - their hefty bank vault and he was sure current investments kept them well off - but every child had aspirations growing up and he felt like Narcissa's was probably healing. That led him to his own parents; what did they want to do before they joined the Order and we're forced into hiding from an event driven by Snape? Whenever the Gryffindor's thoughts were brought back to the prophecy and Snape's role in it, he tried his hardest to shake it away, trying not to let them take over and distract him.

By the second week of the rituals, Harry and Narcissa knew that Draco was gone for approximately an hour and a half, therefore the Malfoy matriarch could have simply come right before his expected arrival. However Harry quickly ascertained that her presence in the room with him was as much for her comfort as for Draco's when he returned. Although he had no parental frame of reference, he could easily see how knowing her son was locked away getting his blood drained for about an hour would be overwhelming and even sitting next to her previous enemy could help comfort that anxiety. Most of the time they didn't say much to each other, other times she asked him about his friends and school. As the days turned into weeks, he started to become more comfortable with her company though he was still very guarded in the information he told her. Deep down, he couldn't help but think that Snape would be proud of him for learning some type of self-preservation, and that recognition hurt him inside.

"Why do you care?" Harry retorted back to his roommate.

"Just trying to make conversation on this beautiful spring day," Draco walked confidently over and sat himself on the edge of the fountain trying to peer over onto Harry's work. "Plus, that thing's been practically attached to your side since you got it."

"It keeps my mind busy," the Gryffindor closed the book forcefully in hopes of keeping the other wizard out his business. Then in an effort to make Draco as uncomfortable as he was about his sketching, he asked, "What did Lucius want last night?"

The question had its intended effect and threw the Slytherin off. If it were proper form to gape, that's how Harry would have described the other wizard towering over him. It was only a matter of time before the Patriarch of the manor would visit his son, and Harry was surprised it hadn't happened earlier. Being the catalyst to Draco's paradigm shift back in July - not to mention the entire reason they were all here to begin with - Harry had no intentions of seeing the older wizard ever again. Therefore when their door opened, right after Harry had returned from the shower and had gotten into bed, he turned towards the wall with his back to the father and son, pretending to be asleep. To his credit, Draco sounded angry with his father when they spoke, and somehow Harry didn't think this conversation wasn't as random as the Malfoy heir wanted it to be.

"He wanted to apologize."

"That's interesting," Harry commented, "because from my side of the room, I didn't hear the word 'sorry' once."

Draco shook his head, "You don't get it. Not everything requires the level of explicit verbiage that you Gryffindors expect. Some things can be implied. What I did get was information. They're working together to get us all out of here - him and Snape are."

Draco's eyebrows lifted and he gestured with his head towards Harry's sketchbook like that was supposed to somehow make him feel comfortable about it all.

"That's not saying much," the Gryffindor grumbled.

"You have to stop this," Draco called out as quietly yet firmly as he could, "Whether you like it or not, it is the best option we have right now."

The other wizard wouldn't know about Harry's own reconnaissance in trying to get them out. Historically speaking, he hadn't always thought things through and he definitely always either had help or had gotten lucky in escaping out of Voldemort's clutches. At some point he'd hoped he would have picked up enough from the past five years to be able to do this alone, not trusting a single soul in the Manor, besides Healer Walker and Dr Swanson, neither of whom could help them.

"I disagree," he toed the pebbles on the ground in front of him, challenging Draco's declaration.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco said exasperated, "You're letting your emotions over certain _individuals_ cloud your judgement."

"You're honestly not the best person-"

"Like bloody hell I'm not," Draco interrupted while moving closer to the Gryffindor, still keeping a keen eye on their guard, "My father totally pissed away my chances of safety and you don't see me making a fuss about it. I know an opportunity when I see one and this is it. I'm not about to let something like fulfilling my need to place blame get in the way of my freedom. Unless of course _you_ have a way of communicating with people on the outside?" The blonde paused, his grey eyes narrowed as if he were contemplating who would be the next dark wizard to try and take over, "That's what I thought. Seriously, let's get everything out on the proverbial table… I know about the vision you had last month."

The statement was made so bluntly that Harry practically choked on his own saliva. He'd expected the question about what had happened between him and Snape, he'd also expected the other wizard to know about the prophecy in general, but he hadn't expected him to know specifically about the vision. Harry steeled his face and with as much conviction as he could and replied, "I don't care if you do."

"Of course you care," Draco leaned in, never losing sight of their guard, "otherwise you would have said something about it already instead of wallowing in your self-pity."

Harry clenched his jaw trying not to let his anger lash out misdirected at the wrong person.

"And?" he prompted, knowing that if Draco brought it up, there had to be a reason why. The Slytherin didn't question things like this without a self-serving reason.

"And," the other teen said in his typical overconfident drawl, "I think you need to get over it. Now that things are settling, and that's coming from the person who gets his arm sliced opened every other night, you being in this-" he waved his hand over Harry, like that made things completely self-explanatory, "- state isn't going to help us think rationally about things."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Harry went to stand, but was held back by Draco's pale hand placed firmly on his shoulder, giving him a small tug. Instinctively, Harry quickly turned around with his fist clenched in place ready to hit the person - not logically thinking it was Draco - who was grabbing him.

"Oi, Potter!" The Slytherin yelled, ducking away from the incoming punch. This, of course, caught the attention of their two Death Eater guards.

It took Avery a whole two steps to painfully grab Harry by his arm and the young wizard knew he'd have fingerprint bruises there, "If you don't behave," the rough voice called so closely into Harry ear that his hot breath tickled over his neck, "I'm sure we can find another activity to keep you busy."

With a firm scowl on his face, Harry swallowed his pride and relaxed his body knowing that if he fought, things would only end up worse. Eventually the Death Eater released him, mumbling something about taking care of them himself as he went back to his post near the hedge maze.

"Sorry, just-" Harry shook his head, "-don't touch me, alright?"

"As I was saying," Draco ignored Harry's comment and lowered his voice, "there's more important things to consider than what happened 17 years ago."

"You obviously have no idea what _he did_ if you think I can just 'get over it'," the Gryffindor spat back, not taking his eyes off the two Death Eaters now pacing across the entrance of the maze.

"You really want to know what I think?" Draco asked. Harry mumbled "no", but it fell on deaf ears, "I think you're missing the glaring truth in all of this!"

"He's the reason my parents were killed!" This time he didn't hold back his voice and was met with two sets of evil eyes on them. "It's confusing enough, alright? I don't need you getting involved."

"Who are you trying to fool?" The blonde said almost laughing, "Everyone knows your parents were marked the moment they fought against him, the whole Order was. The truth is that had whatever happened that Halloween night _not_ happened, _he_ would have won, and they probably would have been killed at some point anyways, but then it would have been for nothing. At least this way you get to say they died protecting you."

"Whatever good that did," Harry replied sullenly.

"There you are going all Hufflepuff again," the blonde tried to reason.

"So what?" Harry started pacing, his feet crunching and shifting on the smooth pebbles surrounding the fountain, "I'm supposed to _thank_ Snape for getting my parents killed and not giving a damn if I was too?!"

"Do you actually want the truth this time? Or would you rather keep living in your own pretentious world?" Draco jumped off the side of the fountain, but didn't match the Gryffindor's pacing, instead opting for tossing fallen leaves into the fountain and watching them take the wild journey around the falls.

"Of course I want the truth," he lied, not so sure he was ready to hear it.

"Snape saved you," Draco tossed the last leaf into the water and walked darkly up to Harry. "So, yeah, you should thank him instead of holding whatever virtuous connotations you have over his head."

Somehow Harry felt more intrigued than angry, which he expected to feel being told he should thank the person who led his parents to their death.

"How do you figure?" At this point, both teens had started the walk back inside the mansion as evening was approaching. Tonight was a ritual night and therefore they would be up late; not like it made much of a difference to them in the long run. Harry took note of both Death Eaters following not so far behind.

"Think about it like this, rumor has it," the blonde said it in such a way that Harry could tell this was not an educated guess, "he asked for your mother to be saved and the Dark Lord rewarded him by granting that request. Now what would have happened if it hadn't been Severus that night?"

Harry quietly and strategically thought about that question. What would have happened had Snape not brought the prophecy to Voldemort? If Draco was right - and as the son of a Death Eater he probably was - that Voldemort was as close to winning the war as he'd previously mentioned, there was a high probability one or both of his parents would have been killed anyways. So many of the original Order perished in the first war, and his parents had never stopped fighting even after he had been born. Pride filled him up at that last thought. They were true Gryffindors standing up for the righteous path, even in the face of death. Yet at the same time, he also wished they would have considered what leaving their only child orphaned would have done.

Then there was the chance that Voldemort found out about the prophecy some other way. What would have happened then? The second part of the vision played back in his mind, but this time instead of focusing on Snape's insistence that he couldn't give a damn about Harry or his father getting killed, so long as his mother lived, he remembered Voldemort saying _"As you wish, Severus. I shall leave young Lily Potter as repayment for what you've done for me_." His mother was given the chance to step aside and yet she didn't. It was a detail so small, he'd completely overlooked it: if it weren't for Snape's love for his mother, Voldemort wouldn't have given her that choice. If Snape hadn't brought the prophecy, Voldemort would have had no reason to give his mum that choice; she would have been killed outright, just as Neville's parents would have if they'd been targeted instead. In a way Draco was right, Snape inadvertently led to his own survival and Voldemort's downfall, saving the wizarding world. Maybe he was truly destined not to have his parents alive with him? If that were true and he could accept his fate, what good was it holding this over the only other person who seemed to care about him. Was it really worth throwing away a potential future - making the assumption they could get out of there alive and the soul fragment removed - for something that happened almost a lifetime ago? Wasn't he then punishing himself more than Snape? Didn't he deserve to be happy? Those were all questions only he could answer, but deep down he knew them; he wanted to be happy and he wanted that with Snape. If it weren't for his brain pulling him back to the prophecy, his heart knew exactly what he wanted and this time he was going to make sure he got it.

The two teens had made it back into the Manor where their respective guards took a hold of their upper arms. Harry barely noticed, nor did he care that they couldn't continue to have this conversation with the guards so close; at this point, it was up to him and he'd made his decision. As he walked through the corridors, almost in a trance, he tabled the epiphany to pay closer attention to his surroundings. Interestingly, they were taking the young wizards around and away from the library, the usual path to their cell. That could only mean that something of significance was going on in there and he was dying to know what they'd found. If he had an Extendable Ear, it would make his latest hobby so much easier, leading him back to the conversation that started all of this with Draco: trusting Lucius and Snape to help them.

~~~~SS~~~~

"I think he'll come around," Lucius announced, walking into the small cell where Severus was still imprisoned.

"Harry or Draco?" The professor asked flatly while he was putting the final touches on the next set of potions for the Dark Lord that he would be delivering later that night. With each week's delivery, he had also had the pleasure of being subjected to an undeserved - in his opinion, not the Dark Lord's - round of the Cruciatus and whichever other hexes and curses the evil wizard felt compelled to use that night, and he was not looking forward to it. After each session, when he was dragged back to his cell, Healer Walker had gotten into the routine of healing only the wounds that would prohibit his next week's work as a way to help preserve the small amount of healing potions they had.

Overall, things in the last month had been going relatively well considering he was doing what he could while locked up all but three hours per week. He'd officially swapped over to the toxic method for the potions and with any luck, in only three or four months the Dark Lord would finally succumb to this disease; when the cell count would surpass even what the Blood Ritual could fix. With so much wasted time on his hands - even with making the potions a little each day instead of all on Fridays - he managed to make a very weak Calming Draught for the healer. It wasn't anything he'd normally be proud of creating, and he was certain it had more of a placebo effect on her than providing any actual calming, but it worked to get her through the first two weeks. At that point, she came to her own conclusions that the ritual wouldn't physically harm Draco as well as serving to actually keep the teenager alive for a purpose, plus it was masking any deterioration from the potions, so she had to keep going. Lucius had managed to track down an experimental Blood Replenishing Potion through his family's many apothecary businesses to help his son heal each night. It took some convincing - and training - to get Nadine to discreetly substitute it after the ritual for the real one, but she'd managed and Draco was recovering much faster than he had previously.

Where Severus still struggled was convincing his roommate that Lucius was their key to getting out of there. While the dark wizard would eventually perish from the toxic potions, he'd hoped to be long gone before that event. Between the Lastranges, Carrows, Greyback, and some other key Death Eaters, he wasn't likely to survive once there was even a hint of the Dark Lord's impending death. From his previous experience with Harry in his old reality, it took roughly six weeks for the potions to create fatal levels within his son's blood - a fact that still kept him up far too many nights physically ill - and then another five weeks until he was killed from it. Taking into account that Voldemort's magical levels hadn't been suppressed by a soul fragment blocking a majority of his magical levels, and balancing that with the fact that he'd gone months untreated meant hopefully it would take a similar path, or at least not delay too much longer. In preparation for that event, he needed to get a plan in place and at first that was his primary goal when meeting the Malfoy patriarch, whenever Nadine was not present because of her - most likely well earned - distrust in the man, now though he used the time as a way to also stay grounded in his isolation; so that hopefully he wouldn't lose his mind.

"Both," Lucius replied, taking the place next to Severus at the potions bench, but not daring to touch a thing. The professor didn't know what excuse the blonde used to explain his absence each visit - this one being to deliver him and the potions to the Dark Lord - but after living with only the healer in the room to talk to and the pain the Dark Lord gave each time he left, he didn't really care. "Draco seemed to understand the importance of aligning for a common goal and I trust things will fall into place once we manage to get out of this mess."

"He would," Severus admitted. "Even if you did single handedly manage to derail the Zanzibar plan, he knows that there's only so much any of us can do alone from our current positions, and he'll put aside his current animosity towards you to save himself.

"Harry on the other hand… he's a bit of a wild card. If I know him, he's probably already started to try and figure a way out his own that he doesn't realize will fail. And I'm afraid he'll never trust you if he knows I'm involved, making whatever back of the parchment plan he's working up a liability to our own."

"Draco will get through to him," the other Slytherin confidently answered, narrowing his eyes at his longtime friend and Severus could already tell the question on his mind, "what I want to know is why was the Dark Lord is so sure that _particular_ memory would yield the response it did. You've been asking, practically begging, for any information on the current condition of the Boy-Who-Lived and while I've admittedly been… away… as of late, the last I recall from my son, you were at odds with the Gryffindor prince."

He knew what Lucius wanted to know as it would appear quite odd for Severus's level of involvement with the Gryffindor. The blonde was intelligent enough to know something had changed, but even he wouldn't be able to figure out on his own that the professor is not the same as he had been. It was a moment of truth for them: could he put his trust in the same wizard who orchestrated the Department of Mysteries mission essentially killing Harry's Godfather? Regardless of Severus's own feelings about the animagus, it was still something that deeply affected the young wizard, and therefore its significance could not be ignored. This was also the same man that wedged the vision of the prophecy between himself and Harry to begin with, an event that ultimately led to their current circumstances. And yet he found himself _wanting_ to talk about, about the life he'd left behind, about Harry's death; a date that was approaching at a rate much faster than Severus was mentally prepared for. He could easily blame it on the isolation, but he'd be lying; it was his own desire that was pushing him along.

"Harry was my son," he found himself saying before he could convince himself otherwise. "Back where… I don't even know where… I adopted him in his second year-" he looked up and saw the confused and highly skeptical face of the most proper man Severus had even known, "- there was a potion…"

That was all it took for the other wizard to pull up a stool to listen. Much to Severus's surprise and relief, Lucius didn't interrupt him no matter how mental he must have sounded. In fact, it felt completely different telling Lucius - more satisfying simply because the other wizard knew Severus on a different level - then when he'd told Minerva all those months ago. The professor talked about his old reality and the event that led to his paradigm shift with the young wizard in his first year, he talked about the adoption process and fixing up Spinner's End, he talked about the Triwizard Tournament and how he'd gotten Harry out of it, and finally, he told all about the cancer diagnosis and the infamous potions versus chemotherapy - without mentioning the cause of the sudden shift to Harry's terminal diagnosis - and, of course, Harry's death. He was certain the wizard across from him had never felt the grief Severus had been feeling to lead him to taking an unknown potion that would land him somewhere completely different, however the look in the patriarch's eyes told him that while he'd probably never admit to such a thing, he could understand why Severus had made the choice he did.

"And the Dark Lord?" Lucius predictably asked. "I imagine picking up your _other duties_ would have been difficult while trying to explain being the parent to the one who vanished him."

The professor shook his head, "He never returned there."

There was a long pause as the man next to him envisioned what their lives without the Dark Lord would be like now. It was a reality that even Severus found himself questioning often in the past month; he wouldn't be locked away, but he wouldn't have Harry here and even this Harry - the one he'd come to love for his own unique self - was better than none.

"He'll come around, Severus," Lucius reiterated, changing the topic back to Harry and mirroring the beginning of their conversation that afternoon.

"I'd be surprised if he ever wanted to speak with me again," the professor sadly replied, "And I can't say I would blame him. I should have been honest. It's why he cannot know I'm involved and why we need Nadine's assistance for this to work. She seems to have at least a little of his trust already."

"That brings about another set of challenges," Lucius answered, cryptically, his eyes looking past Severus over to the healer's mattress bed and not for the first time the professor wanted to ask what had happened between the two of them to cause so much hatred.

"Have you made contact?" The dark-haired wizard asked, boxing up the last of the potions; it was almost time for his weekly torture session. He'd given Lucius enough information to be able to touch base with the Order, so they'd at least be able to have some kind of communication method out of the Manor. It was archaic - nothing more than sending a missive with a well trained peacock - and Severus had his doubts that it would work, but apparently there was a use for those ridiculous birds after all.

"I have," the blonde Slytherin stood straight preparing, "they've been informed how to send word back once things start moving."

"Perfect," he replied. With the Order notified of their situation, he could move onto solving the problem of how to either get them out, or more likely, the Order into the Manor. "Now all that's left is finding a way to actually get out here."

"I just happen to have an idea about that," Lucius smiled as he said it and Severus thought this was going to be either the best idea in the wizarding world or an absolutely awful one.

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_"I guarantee you, Harry, this place is haunted."_

_Severus knew he shouldn't have been listening to what was being said in the kitchen from his worn armchair in the sitting room while attempting to read through the latest Potions Journal. Unfortunately, their Spinner's End home was so tiny that the only place Harry or Severus could be guaranteed any real privacy was in their respective bedrooms; a fact Severus hated as a child growing up. Therefore, he validated to himself that he couldn't necessarily be blamed for overhearing the conversation that was being had between Harry and Ron while they finished dinner without their professor watching their every move._

_It was a week after celebrating Harry's 12th birthday, his first in Severus's care, when the young wizard asked if Ron could stay over sometime before the start of term. Completely unsure of the guidelines for friends staying over - even those of the same gender - the Potion's Master did the one thing he could think of and firecalled Molly Weasley. She was kinder to him then he would have expected about his juvenile questions, but having raised seven children - six of them boys - she was able to provide him the best information on his plethora of questions. In the end, she sent Ron over right after lunch, surprising the young raven-haired wizard with his first friend staying the night._

_"It's not haunted Ron," his charge told his friend. "I've been here for weeks and haven't seen a single strange thing happen."_

_"I dunno, mate," Ron replied, nervously, "look around you. It looks like someone could have died here. And the fact Snape grew up in this very house just makes it worse."_

_Unbeknownst to the two Gryffindor's, Severus gave a small scowl at that last sentence. There were definitely ghosts in the walls of the small home, but not the paranormal kind the youngest Weasley wizard was implying. No, the things that lived in these walls were haunted memories of his drunk father not giving a damn who he hurt in his own destructive path. It was a constant reminder to the professor to never - again - raise his hand at Harry. He got lucky he didn't actually hit the child that night back in December and it was something he was thankful for each and every day. The more he could separate himself from Tobias Snape, the better, however as he was stepping into a mentor role for the young wizard, it was something he had to constantly remind himself: that he was not Tobias, even if his temper was shorter than he liked._

_"You should have seen the place before Severus and I fixed it up," he heard Harry say and the professor flushed in embarrassment. It wasn't as if he expected Harry not to notice the complete disrepair of the place, but to hear him say it so casually to his friend, was different. Perhaps he should place a silencing ward up to give them some privacy._

_"Was it that bad?" Ron asked, incredulously. "Did you find anything proving he's a vampire?"_

_Harry laughed, "He's not a vampire! And yeah, the place was a complete disaster, but it was fun getting to fix it up. I enjoyed getting to spend the time with him."_

_"And you're sure you didn't find any body parts waiting to be turned into potions ingredients?"_

_Severus rolled his eyes. It was no secret that his students thought he might be a vampire - or at a bare minimum an animagus that took on the form of a bat - and that he apparently liked to collect children for potions ingredients. His claim that keeping the student body terrified of him was to help keep them focused on the work in front of them, had its merits. In comparing Herbology incidents to Potion's, his class was easily superior 3 to 1; and that's not counting the fact that potions was a far more dangerous course overall._

_"So tell me the truth," Ron said, "what's it like living with Snape of all people?"_

_At that point, the professor raised his ebony wand and cast a Muffliato on the door separating the kitchen from the sitting room before going back to reading his Potion's Journal. It was one thing to listen in on a conversation that had to do with his old house being haunted - something he used to think as a child - and completely different to eavesdrop on one about himself. Things between him and the Gryffindor had been going well, at least thus far, and he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize that. Neither of them knew what the next school year would bring, but Severus had already been contemplating the idea that he wanted Harry to live with him on a more permanent basis. It wasn't some epiphany he'd had, but once the basic idea culminated in his thoughts, he knew it wouldn't leave. If they could make it through this summer without any issues, maybe he could see Harry wanting to take the leap to live with him._

_"Y'know, now that I think about," Severus heard Harry whisper later that night, as the two almost teenage boys were heading up to bed, "sometimes I hear a woman screaming from my room. I think it might be coming from where Severus's potions lab is now."_

_The professor simply smirked and shook his head when Ron stopped dead in his tracks only steps from Harry's bedroom door; his face pure white in horror. It had more than eased his mind that he and Harry would get along just fine together for years to come._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next: The Tunnels


	72. The Tunnels

~~~~HP~~~~

**_Saturday 3rd, May 1997_ **

Last month's chemotherapy treatment two weeks ago hit Harry harder than usual and it had taken him until the following Monday - three very long days later - to start feeling stronger and able to continue his trips outside to the back garden. He was now nestled right in between treatment months, and while his daily tablet still messed with him from time to time, overall he was able to stay focused on getting the bloody hell out of there.

It was approaching midnight and the young wizard had only just gotten out of the shower. Being that it was a ritual night, there was no rush to get to bed and he found he could relax in the lavatory much easier late at night when he wasn't constantly worrying about someone entering the bedroom unannounced. The one piece of imprisonment in the Manor that he actually liked was the lavatory, and therefore getting to just relax in it was always a good way to end his day. Back at Privet Drive, the lavatory he shared with Dudley was so small, he always wondered how his cousin - especially back in his largest days - could even move within it. The whole room barely fit the loo, tub with a shower, and a small sink with hardly any space between them. Combined with its white laminate tiles, white and pink floral wallpaper, it was an awful combination of being too sterile and too gaudy. Living at Hogwarts - when he wasn't in the dungeons with Snape - he shared a much larger lavatory, but it was with all the boys in the Gryffindor tower making it inconvenient and uncomfortable at times to use. The best scenario, at least until coming to Malfoy Manor, was back home in the dungeons of Hogwarts. The lavatory there wasn't much larger than the one at Privet Drive, but he had it all to himself with a door that even connected it to his bedroom. The style matched the rest of Snape's quarters - which Harry had found he also really liked, specifically after living with McGonagall for that short time - with grey painted stone walls and a natural stone floor.

The lavatory at Malfoy Manor was bigger than his bedroom back at Privet Drive, and while he shared the space with Draco, they'd settled into an unofficial schedule between the two of them for getting ready each morning and night, as well as showering, that was only really interrupted during his monthly chemotherapy treatments or if he was having a random bad reaction to his chemo tablets one day. Similar to the guest bedroom it was attached to, the lavatory had a celestial theme with small silver and gold stars embedded randomly into the smooth marble on the floor leading straight towards the clawfoot tub along the far wall. The walls were silver with white moulding all around giving it a royal feel that he laughed at the first time he walked in; the idea that a room used for cleaning oneself could be so lavish. There was a large window allowing plenty of natural light and was one of the features he found he loved the most about this room. The privacy combined with the elements of the outdoors together calmed his fraying nerves, especially when he first arrived at the manor. Although every time he walked into that lavatory, the clawfoot tub looked inviting, Harry always opted for a shower. He suspected that Draco - who was starting to embrace this imprisonment a little too much - was about 50/50 on his use of the shower compared to the bathtub, and the only reason Harry knew that was because the door to the lavatory was right in front of his bed and he could hear either the tub or shower running. After living in their current situation for so long, he found he needed some way to keep his mind busy besides sketching and devising a plan to escape, and the amount of preening Draco required was enough sometimes.

Harry wrapped a plush navy towel around his waist, feeling the same warmth coming from it as he did on almost all the linens in Manor besides the bed sheets and covers. Every time he felt the familiar warmth, he wondered if that was something they had purchased this way or if Narcissa - or quite possibly a house elf - placed all the charms on them herself after she brought them home. Living in and running a wizarding household was something that Harry tried not to think about, otherwise he would get too overwhelmed. Hogwarts did an excellent job at teaching them the skills they would need for any future career, but completely missed on how to run a wizarding household. How were muggleborns, like Hermione, or even half-bloods who lived in the muggle world, like himself, supposed to learn how to live in a fully magical home? He'd been to the Burrow enough times to know that there had to be a set of domestic spells and charms that could be used to do basic things around the house, but without an adult wizard to teach them, where were they expected to learn? And what about grocery shopping, cooking without modern muggle appliances, and even things like charming towels and rugs to stay warm? Did the latter fall under Mr Weasley's department at the Ministry and it shouldn't be done? Was this something that Snape had been teaching him back in his old reality before the cancer diagnosis? That last question caught him off guard as it was the first time he'd thought of the old reality - of technically his old life - living as Snape's son. Maybe once they were out of here and the soul fragment removed, the professor could walk him through all these major gaps in their magical living education.

Harry was so distracted, it wasn't until he was back at the sink brushing his teeth that he noticed it. Throughout the last ten months, he'd gotten so used to ignoring the mirrors in front of him, hating the pallid, gaunt expression looking back at him, that he rarely noticed himself turning away or automatically averting his eyes from it. The mirror in this lavatory matched the rest of the room with its golden extravagant wooden frame adorned with silver and navy stars. It was large enough for him to see from the top of his head to his waistline, also drawing unwanted attention to his skeletal frame. He'd been eating better overall during Maintenance, however some days he still had no appetite and others he found himself suddenly nauseous and therefore he wasn't gaining the weight back nearly as quickly as he had hoped. Tonight, though, he randomly looked up after spitting out his toothpaste and taking a sip of water from his goblet at the sink to rinse his mouth and almost choked, simultaneously dropping the cup with a loud _clang_ across the lavatory. Immediately, coughing to clear his airway, his eyes widened as they were sure the mirror was playing some cruel trick on him. All around his head, where he'd gotten so used to seeing nothing but skin, was now covered in a very small amount of dark raven black hair. He reached his hand up and touched the mirror to make sure his mirror image moved alongside his actual body, before reaching up and touching his head. It was real. The one piece of himself that gave away his disease was going away. Dr Swanson had mentioned that his hair would probably come back during Maintenance - as well as it having a chance of falling out again in the future, depending on how his body reacted - but he had never allowed himself to get excited about the possibility, knowing that the disappointment if it hadn't returned would be too great.

Completely lost in the new feeling of the wiry fuzz beneath his fingers, the Gryffindor missed the several hard knocks on the heavy lavatory door and Draco calling out if he was alright. Suddenly the door opened and the blonde was standing before him with a worried expression across his face that quickly turned to anger, and finally landed on a combination of horror and embarrassment.

"What the bloody hell, Potter!" The Slytherin called out, turning immediately to give Harry privacy. "You could have answered me when I was asking if you were alright in here!"

"Sorry," Harry said, tightening the towel around his waist and quickly putting on his black pyjama shirt. "I didn't hear you!"

It had been weeks since they'd had an accidental run in sharing a lavatory and Harry thought it odd that the house didn't have any actual locks on the doors.

_Of course, in a wizarding household you can just use magic to open any muggle lock._

"I gave you plenty of warning before walking in," Draco said with as much dignity as someone who barged in on his roommate in the lavatory could.

"Were you worried about me, Draco?" Harry jested, causing a hard _hmph_ from the other wizard. "I'm dressed now, by the way."

Draco turned around with arms crossed over this chest, looking over at Harry without any sense of humor in his face. "What was I supposed to think when I heard something fall and some sort of choking in here? Do you have any idea of what would happen to me if my collection crew came in tonight and saw the The Chosen One dead on the floor?"

Before Harry could ask another question - like why the Slytherin was so upset over the whole situation - he left, leaving Harry standing in the lavatory alone. Giving one more careful swipe of his hand across his patchy hair, he followed his roommate out back into the bedroom. Draco had managed to make his way back to his bed in the short amount of time it took Harry to exit the lavatory behind him. The atmosphere in the room was cold and Draco's body language was distant.

"Want to tell me what's going on?" The Gryffindor asked, making his way to his own bed, choosing to sit cross-legged sideways as opposed to laying flat.

At first, Draco didn't say anything and Harry got the impression that the other wizard was embarrassed about something. "I've seen you checking things out as we're walking through the corridors to the gardens…" the blonde eventually said, "have you heard about the Tunnels?"

Harry furrowed his brows trying to figure out how his mapping out the Manor and these 'Tunnels' were related to the reaction in the lavatory. Not being able to come to his own conclusions, he shook his head, needing Draco to fill in some more of the details.

"Obviously, we know ghosts exist," Draco started and then shook his own head unsure if this was the right place to start, "I mean, we have them at Hogwarts, but it's not like the castle is _haunted,_ right?"

"I never really thought about it," Harry replied. He had been a little scared the first time he met the resident ghosts when he'd arrived at school, but now it was so normal that they were practically real people. But based on the way Draco was talking, he would think Malfoy heir was saying- "Is the Manor haunted?"

"That's what generations have said, and I thought… I mean I've heard myself-" The grey eyes from the wizard across from him shifted back and forth and he sat up in his own silver bed mirroring Harry's cross-legged position. "So the Manor has this set of underground tunnels. It's well known as part of the Malfoys' history. I should back up, did you know we're known for our work in the Apothecary industry?"

Harry had heard that from Narcissa on his first night in the Manor, but again, wasn't sure exactly how it all related. Deciding it didn't matter if he told the truth, the Gryffindor replied, "Your mum mentioned it back on the first day when you… were healed much faster than Healer Walker expected."

"Yeah," Draco smirked, "we have access to all sorts of experimental and extra-strength potions. In fact, my father originally wanted Severus to work for one of the research companies. He'd be bloody good at it too."

Harry didn't doubt that and he actually thought the professor would be much happier working on the bench developing brand new potions or new formulas of current ones. So long as they were all legal, of course, because after all his animosity towards the man, he could admit that Snape did have a conscience and understood how much damage he could cause.

"Anyways," Draco continued, "the apothecary business was started right around the time of the Muggle Plague and as we _all_ _know_ from Binns' class-" he rolled his eyes causing Harry to smirk, "-wizards had a similar plague at the same time. As natural born Slytherins, the Malfoys took the opportunity to promote their business-"

"So they tried to profit from people's deaths." Harry incredulously interrupted, but it was phrased as a statement, not a question. "That's horrible!"

"How is that any different than the muggle pharmaceutical companies profiting from your cancer treatments?" The blonde logically asked, " _someone_ has to get paid for the time and money that goes into the research and development of new potions, not to mention the production."

Now that he mentioned it, who was paying for his chemotherapy? Harry had no idea if the wizarding world had a healthcare system like Britain, but he did have a vague idea how the muggle system worked. What he wasn't sure on was if all of his - guaranteed to be expensive - chemotherapy medication was covered by it or not. To complicate matters, he had not approved any funds to transfer from his vault into muggle money, so who was taking care of all of it. If it wasn't covered by the healthcare system, he had a feeling it had been Snape this whole time, and suddenly Harry wanted to find the man to ask him. The whole system though still seemed wrong to the Gryffindor, but he wasn't about to concede to that fact nor was he prepared to argue it. The idea that the Malfoys made their billions - a guess that Harry assumed was pretty close - by starting out targeting the wizarding plague victims was nauseating.

"May I continue?"

"Go ahead," Harry eventually said, too hooked on hearing about the tunnels and supposed haunting to stop the story.

"As I was saying," Draco dramatically continued, "as the story goes, the Malfoy Apothecary volunteered to be the leading potioneer source to try to combat the plague, which was taking over faster than they could keep Potion Masters alive. The Manor was offered as a place to house any of the ill patients willing to undergo the experimental treatment. Over the course of the plague, there ended up being hundreds of volunteers willing to try the new potions. It was anywhere from individuals to entire families staying right in these rooms, all of them willing to do whatever it took to survive, and some of them even bettering their situation because they now had a roof over their head and access to general potions they couldn't otherwise afford. As you can imagine, with the epidemic being so highly reported, the Malfoys of that time were extremely careful of any negative publicity for their involvement, which was easily controlled from the Manor."

Harry wanted to interrupt, knowing exactly where this was headed and not liking it one bit. He wanted to yell and scream at the Malfoys for whatever they did to think they'd made the Manor haunted.

"At first the potion trials were extremely deadly and the death rate was exorbitantly high," Draco continued almost like none of this bothered him in the slightest. He'd likely heard the story so many times it had lost its effect. "Quickly realizing that they couldn't transport their failed experiments out the front door, they ingeniously created a series of tunnels running from the infirmary, under the manor and grounds, eventually leading to a small side farm that, at the time, was located at the very edge of the property line."

"Let me guess," Harry interjected both disgusted with the story and intrigued with the idea of hidden tunnels beneath the Manor, "without any proof of the deaths they caused, business took off."

"They eventually got it right!" As expected, the Malfoy heir immediately took offense. "It only took a few months of tweaking and the investments they received during the time it was failing helped them perfect it and essentially cured - not to mention prevent - the plague."

It was semantics and Harry vehemently disagreed with him on it and had to use every fiber of his body to resist arguing against the Slytherin. His family knew people were dying from the potion and they hid the evidence as a way to continue to get funding. Did the end justify the means? He didn't think so, but he was sure all the people cured afterwards would have a different opinion.

"So what happened to the tunnels?" Harry asked, quietly. "And the… bodies?"

"Well," the other wizard started, "since the tunnels were no longer necessary, they were discreetly cleaned up of any evidence from being a temporary morgue. Eventually, the next generation or two converted the front portion into our luxury wine cellars, while the other portion sits abandoned."

"And, the bodies?" Harry reminded his roommate of the part of his question that hadn't been answered.

For this, Draco's voice lowered into an ominous tone that instantly put the Gryffindor on edge, "How the bodies were ultimately disposed of is still a mystery. There are rumors passed down from generation to generation, each a little more sadistic than the last. I was told that they were buried out in the farm's field which is why the crops refuse to grow each year."

From the window in their bedroom, Harry could see the outline of a small farm to the South East of the gardens. He assumed it had nothing to do with the Malfoy family, which was the reason for the fence surrounding their property and the farm being on the other side of it. If the tunnels were still connected to the farm, that could be a way to escape, but if the farm was still on Malfoy Manor property, the wards would likely extend to it.

Before he could get to the logistics of the tunnel, Harry had to know how all of this related to the incident in the lavatory, "So you're trying to tell me the Manor's haunted with the ghosts of the patients that died?"

"Technically no," Draco responded and for a split second Harry's heart had calmed down a bit, "it's just… one family."

That wasn't any better.

"The buttery downstairs was the makeshift infirmary for the Malfoy hospital," the Slytherin continued in the same low tone. "You see, it's never been a secret that cries of anguish and pain can be heard there late at night. Over time, there have been so many different stories passed down through the Malfoy generations about the people who've been killed and talk of various things going on at the farm, but the one that's always been told is about the Caprine Family.

"They were one of the poorer families that agreed to the experimental potions early on and from what I heard, they'd be better off dying from the plague than the side effects they suffered from the potions themselves-"

Harry's breathing immediately picked up. He knew exactly what it was like to experience horrific side effects from the medications that were supposed to be curing him from a deadly disease. Healer Smithe and Dr Swanson had always been honest about the side effects he'd experienced and yes, there had been times he thought he was dying from them - and he could have died, still can now that he thought about, from the infection caused by his low blood counts - but he never really considered how dangerous the medications were compared to Leukemia. Never was _n_ ot treating it an option and therefore, what would have happened if he'd found out he was dying from the substance that was supposed to save his life? It hit him far too close to home.

"- it was a family of three," Draco was still going through the story, oblivious to Harry's small panic attack on the other bed, "and occasionally they come back to… you could say… visit. The mother's rarely seen, but she can be heard late at night when she roams the corridors, and the sounds of her sharp nails scratching on the walls echo throughout the corridors. Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't heard it yet."

Audibly gulping, Harry shook his head. Given how little sleep he'd been getting, if this were true - and it was enough to scare the blonde earlier tonight - he would have heard it.

"What I was worried about with you tonight," Draco narrowed his eyes and leaned over towards Harry's bed, resting his arms on his knees, "was that the reflection of their young son is often found in lavatory mirrors. I've seen him myself sometimes, wandering in and out from mirror to mirror like the portraits at school.

"It's the father you have to worry about though. He's rarely spotted, but if he does come out, it's usually with his son. He likes to stand near the doorways and the legend says that if someone walks near the doorway, he drags them through it and they're _never_ seen again."

At this point, Harry's eyes were wide open as he thought about the history and the tale he'd just been told. The whole thing was depressing and horrifying at the same time. The seconds ticked by and Harry expected more from the story, but it seemed like that was it.

"You're having me on, right?" The Gryffindor eventually asked with a shaking voice.

At first, the other wizard said nothing, just narrowed his grey eyes, then slowly smiled and exclaimed, "Of course I am! And you should have seen the look of terror on your face!"

Without thinking twice, Harry lifted one of his plush navy pillows and threw it as hard as he could at the Slytherin across from him, managing to hit the teen in the head. His blonde hair was sprayed across his face while he continued to laugh at Harry's expense.

"I heard..." he managed to say through his hard laughter, "something hit the ground and then you started choking or coughing, and wanted to make sure you didn't fall or something completely daft like that. What I didn't expect was to see your skinny arse in a towel! So, I planned a little payback."

"You're a total git, you know that right?"

"Eh," the blonde pulled his legs up onto the bed and rested himself back down, "I get that a lot."

What Harry really wanted to know, but now wasn't sure if it would give away too much of his plan, was if the tunnels were real. There was a good chance - better than not actually - that he'd made the whole thing up. Of course, it wasn't any secret that the Malfoys had created their fortune in the Apothecary business, so maybe only the haunting part was fabricated.

"Is any of it true?" He ventured in asking.

"Absolutely," Draco nodded his head firmly. "All of it actually, besides the whole nail scratching, mirror jumping, doorway stealing family. Everything from the experiments, to the tunnels, and even the farm crops are true."

"That's horrible," Harry replied.

"Nothing I can do about it now," he sounded sad in his statement. "I can't change the Malfoys' history, but if I make it out of here alive, maybe I'll be able to change the future perception of us."

Not wanting to take away from the fundamental moment, Harry waited a solid minute in silence before asking, "What about the farm? Do the Malfoys still own it?"

Thinking hard about the question first, Draco answered, "Technically yes, but I believe they rent it - _for free_ \- to some of the people who were affected by the potions experiments. Like I said though, they haven't been able to produce any crops on it since the Tunnels were made."

If the Tunnels had been converted and the farm was no longer technically part of the Malfoy property, it was entirely possible - even probable - that they wouldn't be warded like the rest of the Manor and the grounds. He had no idea how to utilize this information or how to determine if the Tunnels were accessible from elsewhere in the Manor, but it would give something else to start working through in his notes. This, the prank from the Malfoy heir, could be their ticket to freedom.

By now, they only had about half an hour until the 'collection crew' came for Draco - Avery and Goyle if Harry's schedule was correct - and an uncomfortable silence fell between the two teens. Harry was lost in the next steps to their escape plan and almost didn't hear the quiet question from the bed across from his.

"So what _did_ cause that reaction?" Draco tentatively asked.

He could feel his face blanch. Somehow after everything he'd heard, it felt small and trivial.

"Oh, Erm…" Harry stuttered, then decided he would just go for it without any embarrassment, "I have hair!"

Draco shook his head, "You seriously just noticed? It's been a week or so since the rest of us have."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Harry asked, a little upset that no one thought to tell him.

"That would go against every single etiquette rule that was pounded into my head growing up," the Malfoy heir responded.

"Well," Harry leaned back against his headboard with a smile on his face, "it's news to me."

* * *

**_Saturday, 10th May 1997_ **

The idea of the tunnels fascinated Harry and he spent the next week trying to figure out if they were attached to anywhere within the second story of the Manor and, if so, how the two young wizards could discreetly access them. After looking through every part of the walls and floor in their room, he hadn't been able to see anything that would potentially open to the tunnels. He'd worked through some basic logic though that told him the Tunnels must somehow attach to the guest rooms. First, the healers would likely need some way to transport the patients from their guest room to the infirmary and then from the infirmary - assuming the patient died - to the farm or makeshift morgue. This meant there should be somewhere the Tunnels attach to the second and possibly even the third story. Alternatively, there could be a centrally located tunnel that served the whole floor instead of each individual room. Draco was the best person to ask to get this information, but that would mean bringing the young Slytherin in on the plans, however small they were right now.

"What do you want to do after Hogwarts?" Harry casually asked in an effort to back into the conversation about the Tunnels.

They were taking their daily walk outside around the gardens with Yaxley and Macnair as their guards; two of the easier Death Eaters, an observation that did not go unnoticed by Harry and therefore the perfect time to bring up something like this. It was already late in the afternoon, as they had slept most of the morning after last night's ritual, but the weather was getting more pleasant as the weeks went by and they headed from Winter to Spring and towards Summer.

"You mean assuming we get out of here-" Draco replied, looking around for their guards, "- and I somehow manage to make up the weeks' worth of work I've missed?"

That last part wasn't meant to spotlight Harry's own situation, but it didn't make the Gryffindor feel good about his own educational future. Were there positions he could go into if he were six years behind?

"Assuming all that happens," Harry asked shuffling his feet across the pebbles, "are you still interested in healing?"

"Actually," the other wizard stopped his own pacing and faced the Gryffindor, "I've been talking a lot with Healer Walker during the rituals." Harry gave a skeptical look at this. "It sounds strange, but there's some downtime before it all starts and waiting… just… go with it."

"Alright," Harry rubbed his head in a nervous gesture and held it for an extra second. It still felt strange to feel the growing hair returning to his head. It was a different texture than his old hair - more wiry and thick - but at least it still had the black color because Dr Swanson had said occasionally chemotherapy patient's hair could grow back a different color. A part of him expected it to be red like his mum's, and was a little nervous how he'd look as a redhead.

"And there's not nearly enough research done on muggle diseases in the wizarding world. There are only two healers in all of wizarding Britain that specialize in it," Draco was nervous, it was obvious when he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "She grew up here, in Wiltshire, did you know that?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I hadn't realized that. Did she know your father? They're about the same age, right?"

"That is correct, Mr Potter," came the smooth drawl of Lucius Malfoy from behind them. "Nadine Walker and I have a… complicated history together."

The way he'd said it sounded completely ominous and Harry doubted he'd get the story from either Malfoy with the patriarch present. Lucius had stopped by their cell at least three more times since his first visit and each time Harry pretended he was asleep, or made sure he was in the lavatory. Naturally, the Gryffindor tried to eavesdrop, however even without a privacy spell - making it obvious that Lucius still wasn't trusted with a wand - the father and son pair spoke so quietly, he could only pick up small odds and ends. On top of the fact that he was positive at least half of what he heard was in some kind of code, meaning he didn't pick up much of any information from the elder Malfoy wizard's visits. One thing he was sure about was that he had zero intention of ever talking to the man no matter how long they ended up staying locked up in the Manor. This was the first time the older Slytherin had seeked either of them outside of their cell.

"If you both will accompany me," Lucius stoically said, giving a small nod to their guards.

It wasn't asked as a question, but a demand. There was no way Harry was going with the Death Eater. Yaxley approached them, but waved off Macnair with instructions to go back to guarding the door. Draco and his father started off towards the Manor and Harry didn't budge until Yaxley took a hold of his upper arm again - nowhere nearly as rough as he had in the past - not giving him a choice in the matter. He was dragged in through the elaborate door and down an ornate corridor heading to where he recognized, by now, was the library. Interestingly, when leaving the manor, the guards commonly took alternating routes and passages, yet coming back in they usually went one of two ways: past the library or around it. Today, though, they were heading straight for the library instead of taking the corridor directly in front of it.

Harry had caught glimpses of the expansive room that was the biggest personal library he'd ever seen. The dark hardwood floor was covered in plush rugs that outlined several seating areas where, the Gryffindor admitted, looked comfortable to sit and read. Never did he think he'd become as studious as he had this year - something Hermione would be proud of - and it was equally ironic and depressing to realize that the year he had nothing else to do besides study was the same year he couldn't continue his education. A lit fireplace sat on the far wall giving the room a deceivingly comfortable feel to it; like anyone could simply walk in here, pluck a book from the shelves, and sit in front of the fire to read.

And the books! Hermione would probably die seeing this many personal books in one place. The walls were adorned in floor to ceiling bookshelves made of a dark, expensive looking wood Harry was uncomfortable to even touch. Books of all shapes and sizes filled the shelves, reminding him of a more organized version of Olivander's. Curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself craning his neck to see some of the titles and categories. It appeared they had every category of magic accounted for, in addition to the wide range of wizarding literature Harry knew nothing about. What was missing - or at least not visible - was anything on the Dark Arts. There was no way a family like the Malfoys _didn't_ have books like that, so there must have been a restricted section somewhere hidden in the vast room, and the more the young wizard thought about it, it was unlikely they would leave those out in the open where anyone could see them. Had Voldemort been here, searching for the answer to making a Horcrux, all those times they couldn't pass this room heading back to their cell?

"Thank you, Corban," the Malfoy Patriarch smoothly said when the two pairs stopped before the fireplace. "I'll take it from here and return them to their room when we're through."

Again, Yaxley didn't say a word, just nodded his agreement and abruptly left. Throughout his two months at the Manor, Harry didn't like to say he had his favorite Death Eaters, but there was definitely a hierarchy of those he preferred and those he did not. Yaxley not only fell into the former category, he was at the top of the category. There was something different about him Harry inherently noticed some time around the middle of last month and he had this particular Death Eater marked in his notes as one that he wanted on guard when he staged his escape. The second guard was still up in the air, however he was making progress and had a lengthy list of those he _didn_ 't want watching over them.

The heavy library door closed with a loud _bang_ that surprisingly echoed through the room given the amount of books located within it. With the closing of that door, Harry started to visibly sweat from the suffocating feeling regardless of the spacious room and cathedral ceiling.

"Our Manor was built in the early 1600's," Lucius started without any preamble, "and while many of the rooms have seen small updates and improvements throughout the years, this room has stayed more or less unchanged in that time."

Harry looked all around him. Was he supposed to respond to that statement? Be amazed at how long the Malfoys have lived on the same property, in the same Manor, for centuries?

"The manuscripts held within these shelves," the aristocratic man continued, "date back all the way to the conception of Hogwarts. It had taken generations upon generations to collect the sheer quantity of tomes located in this room, all of which are handed down to the primary heir."

Draco's face flushed at the casual reference to his unique position within the family. He wasn't simply the primary heir, he was the sole heir, just like Harry was to the Potter family. He'd obviously been to his vault many times, but outside of the money he didn't recall seeing any other family heirlooms. What happened to the things that had been passed down from father to son throughout the years? There had to be _something_ left from them.

"You should feel honored," Draco added, "I was only allowed in here when I was homeschooled. Besides school, it's a well known fact that children are not allowed in a library like this."

It was another example of how oppressive growing up in this environment would have been. The younger Slytherin had the world at his disposal, but was unable to touch any of it. Harry had grown up with similar oppressive rules, but for very different reasons. His relatives were trying to punish him whereas the blonde's parents were protecting their valuables, neither was healthy for raising a teenage boy.

"So then why are we here?" Harry demanded, ready to get whatever this was moving. At a bare minimum, he wanted to end the explanation of the lavish history on the room.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the older blonde said, "Dare I say, you should be more grateful about your current circumstances, Mr Potter. Not everyone within the Manor is as comfortable as The Chosen One. Certain individuals are not even allowed to leave with the exception of a certain, very specific task. Here, you've been given the privilege of not only seeing daylight, but experiencing it daily."

Harry's face paled as it completely drained of blood. Was that a message? Did it mean Snape was locked away in a windowless cell, and not allowed to leave?

"It appears that my wife has come to the conclusion that you both could use some additional activities to engage your minds," he said with his head held high. "Feel free to borrow anything, within reason, on these shelves."

Why couldn't the Malfoys simply say what they meant in real English instead of their haughty version of it? Could he really trust that he'd been brought here to browse the library in an effort to find other ways to occupy his time? Apparently Draco had less reservations about underlying intentions and immediately started browsing the texts he should have known well enough by now not to require such an intense focus. Following suit, Harry started exploring the shelves to see if anything struck his attention. For the most part, Lucius simply kept a keen eye on the pair of sixteen year olds as they moved independently throughout the room. The intimidating wizard kept his distance, treating Harry like he was a caged animal being released for the first time; completely untrusting, but desperate for whatever was waiting on the other side of that cage that he was willing to accept whatever was handed to him.

It hadn't been more than ten minutes when the man spoke again, but not to Harry, and in the same quiet tone the Gryffindor had become used to hearing during the father and son visits back in their cell. This time, Harry found himself inching towards them to hear better.

"That's an interesting choice and one I think one you'd enjoy," Lucius quietly spoke. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry saw the older Malfoy take the book from Draco's hand and examine it. "I think you'll find the ending of this particular literary masterpiece extremely liberating for the two young protagonists. Most definitely an insightful read that will challenge both your vocabulary and patience. If you can make it through to the end, I think you'll find the tale quite satisfying."

Draco clutched the book tightly to his chest and nodded. The two of them continued their cryptic conversation, none of which meant anything to Harry, and he continued further away from the Slytherins in search of something he would find of interest. In a matter of minutes, he came across a section on history and more specifically, architecture, that looked promising. He picked out a book that he hoped would give him some insight into the Tunnels that were located somewhere below his feet, hoping the patriarch wouldn't be approving the books they brought back to their cell.

"Ah, great choice, Mr Potter," Harry jumped at the sound of Lucius's solid, yet calm voice behind him, "Have you previously read that specific piece of literary fiction?"

The Gryffindor furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at the book in his hands, _Architectural Marvels in the Wizarding World._ This was far from literary fiction and he got the feeling the wizard looking over his shoulder was also well aware of that fact.

"No, sir," Harry carefully responded, able to pick up on the subtly used, "I haven't read this one."

Standing tall, Lucius looked over his pointed nose and said, "You'll find it explores the idea of how the dynamic, specifically forgiveness and trust, between a father and his son can be one of the most important and powerful parts in a young wizard's upbringing. Of course, that's not so relevant for an orphan like yourself. Perhaps you would rather find something a bit more… relatable."

At first his blood started to boil at the casual reference to his orphaned status, but the more he considered the words that were actually said, there was no denying that the reference was about Snape and himself. Had Snape told the man about his other reality? And if so, did that mean he could be trusted? Snape must have considered him an ally to have told him such an important event.

"I'll keep that in mind," the Gryffindor said, still clutching the book to his chest. "Thank you for this, sir."

The rest of their time in the library was more or less spent in silence. Every so often the Death Eater would start telling them about some famous witch or wizard that had visited the estate, none of whom Harry actually knew or cared about. They spent almost an hour in the library and after finding the book on architecture, the Gryffindor spent the rest of the time trying to stealthily find out if the Tunnels attached to this room. With the buttery on the same floor, he doubted they had any reason to, but he wasn't about to leave any stone unturned in his quest. This was far too important to make silly mistakes or overlook even the smallest of details, even if Lucius had already told them the library had been unchanged since its creation.

Once they were settled back in their bedroom, Harry immediately went searching through the text he'd discovered for any kind of reference to the Tunnels. With Malfoy Manor belonging to such a prominent family in Wizarding Britain, he had hard time believing there would be nothing about these historic Tunnels, even if their true nature wasn't revealed. In fact, the more that Harry thought about it, trying to think like a Slytherin, they probably did hide the actual purpose for them. So what other story could they have come up with to explain them, while shining the Malfoy family in a positive light?

"What do you want to do?" Draco asked from where he was sitting by the fireplace.

"About what?" Harry responded only half paying attention. When no answer came, Harry looked up at his roommate watching the fire flickering across the top. "After school?"

With a clenched jaw, Draco turned his head and nodded, "Whenever that is for you."

He had started the conversation back when they were in the gardens, so he couldn't be too upset when the other wizard wanted to know his own plans.

"Assuming I make it out of here alive," it was a big assumption, but one he had to stay focused on otherwise he'd be completely lost, "I don't really know. Since fourth year, I wanted to be an auror, but that was before…"

"All the times you've faced the Dark Lord," the blonde guessed, "or the cancer?"

"Both, I guess," the Gryffindor honestly replied. "It'll be at least another six years before I finished school-"

"Six?!" Draco interrupted, "how do you figure? You didn't miss that much school this year. I bet Severus could get you caught up over the summer and you'll be back with us next year."

Grief filled him up and this time it was Harry's turn to look away. Draco knew about the horcrux; it was one of the reasons that caused the need for him to be the specimen for the Blood Ritual to begin with. In all this time together, he'd been surprised he managed to keep his lack of magic a secret.

"I don't have any magic," he eventually said. "I won't be back with you guys next year."

"You mean you can't use your magic," Draco clarified as he stood and slowly walked over to his bed, facing Harry, "but that was only with all those muggle medications you were taking this year. Now you're only on what… four of them? And they're not that bad, comparatively."

"It's a bit more complicated than that," he mumbled, "the medications took my magic right before you landed me here. Now until Vold- _his_ soul fragment is removed, I'm completely magicless… and even then, the magic I'll hopefully have will be raw magic, no better than a first year."

"Damn," the blonde said in almost a daze, "So you're saying that even if we were able to get a couple of these idiots' wands-"

"I can't do a thing with it," Harry interrupted. "So yeah, by the time I get through with chemotherapy, remove the soul fragment, _and_ retrain my magic, I'll be a little old to join the auror program."

Neither of them mentioned that someone still had to deal with megalomaniac wizard they were trying to escape from. Depending on when they managed to escape, and who they escaped with, he'd continue to gain power - especially with the potions continuing to work - and according to the prophecy, it should be up to Harry to defeat him. The idea of that was too daunting for the young wizard to think about at that moment.

"You could be my poster boy?"

"What?!" That got Harry's attention very quickly.

"For my Wizarding Center for Muggle Diseases," the blonde held his hands out like he was introducing a new sign. "It'll be great. Healer Walker will lead the team, Severus can work on the specific potions' formulations, you as our public image and speaker… and then me, or the Malfoy Family, as the masterminds behind it all."

"So no actual healing for you?" Harry asked.

"Jury's still out on that one," he arrogantly replied. "I could have a joint position if it comes down to it."

Harry simply shook his head, able to hear the message underneath the layer of confidence in his plan. All of those people were currently locked up in the Manor and it was unlikely they'd all make it out alive. It was a dream, and one that if they did manage to all escape, Harry would fully support.

~~~~SS~~~~

To Severus, the days were all merging together as he simply continued making potions day in and day out, with his Saturday delivery being the only event marking the end of one week and the start of the next. Today, after delivering the potions, the Dark Lord was favoring _Sectumsempra_ for his curse of choice during this week's torture session. This, unfortunately, left the former spy having to try and heal the wounds with wandless incantations. It worked well enough to be able to remove the curse, but not to completely heal them, so Healer Walker had spent the better part of the night wrapping them the muggle way.

"You can't keep this up every week," Nadine commented, still focused on wrapping the bleeding gash on his upper arm. "At some point, he's going to accidentally kill you."

"This is a win-win situation for us," Severus sat up against the wall on his mattress, giving a grimace in pain, "either he keeps me alive to continue poisoning him or he kills me and dies from the Leukemia."

She narrowed her blue eyes at him and then continued on with her healing.

"And anyways," the professor continued, "it's not like there's anything I can do about it. Outside of continuing to not heal his cancer, what do you expect me to do?"

"It just seems wrong," Nadine said with a sad tone laced into her voice. "All of this is wrong."

"Welcome to the dark side of the wizarding world," he grimaced again when she tied the wrap tightly around his arm. At first her overly righteousness - almost to Harry's Gryffindor level - was rather annoying, but after two months he'd learned to accept it as part of who she was. It balanced his overly realistic - she would say pessimistic - point of view and kept him from losing his mind within itself; it kept him focused and sharp without him even realizing it. Before he could say another word about his situation, the door opened and Lucius walked in, gently closing the door behind them. Immediately, Nadine tensed up.

"What are you doing here?" she aggressively asked and swiftly moved to the other side of their room.

"I've been sent to make sure our Potioneer has managed the correct healing incantations," Lucius replied without even acknowledging her presence. "It appears you're more skilled than the Dark Lord gives you credit for."

"I'm counting on that," he confidently said. "The rest of this will heal the muggle way."

"The slow way," Lucius commented with a scowl, before adding, "Harry knows about the Tunnels."

"You're certain?" Severus asked, already knowing the answer, and then based on the other Slytherin's face, he added, "How?"

"Apparently my son found it entertaining to tell yours a ghost story."

It could have been a statement straight from his old reality. They were six days away from not only the anniversary - to him - of his son's death, but to the actual day: 16, May 1997. The observation that this was the actual date coming up hit him around his birthday, as he was contemplating if he were turning 37 or 38 this year. All this time he'd expected to spend the day with Harry in hopes of helping to heal a fraction of the always present wound still inside of him. This Harry was different, but he had been just as happy being a mentor, practically a father figure, to the teen this year, and with Harry in Maintenance there was so much they could have been doing on the 15th and 16th. Now, he'd be a prisoner to his own memories and his own negativity on one of the worst days of his life.

"Is there a chance the Order will be in place before Harry tries anything incredibly stupid?" He focused back on the new problem at hand, while noticing Nadine's change of posture after the comment about Severus's son.

"I guess that depends on how quickly he acts on this knowledge," the blonde replied. "According to my last missive, a team has managed to get into the Farm and are almost in place."

"Perfect," the professor grunted, his arm still in a small amount of pain. "What's the timing looking like?"

"I'm still testing the boundaries of the wards," the Malfoy patriarch explained, "I do not believe they extend to the Farm's property line, having been removed from the main wards when they were redone about a century ago. What I haven't been able to ascertain is how much of the Tunnels are tied to main wards and more importantly, the ability to disable them in specific sections."

"Can you do it?" He challenged the blonde.

"Of course I can," Lucius replied with a smirk, "it's just a matter of figuring out the exact order that will draw the least amount of attention."

"What are you both talking about?" Nadine stood with her hands crossed over her chest.

Giving the healer a quick glare, Severus quickly thought through the scenario. They needed as many wands as possible - once the Order made it into the Manor - and bringing her into the plan now would give the Healer time to accept the help from someone she despised, but not too much to talk herself out of it. Trusting an enemy was never simple and the balance between keeping your morals and saving your life was one of the hardest to manage.

"We're getting out of here," Severus bluntly told her.

Her face lit up and Severus was happy to have been able to provide that small comfort to her. It was short lived and a split second later, her brows lowered as she frowned.

"How do you know you can trust him?"

"His son is upstairs recovering from being used as a blood reservoir for months," the former spy explained to her, "you'd be surprised what a father would do for his child's safety. Besides, what other choice do you have? Stay here until your services are no longer needed? What do you think you'll do then?"

"But what about our-"

"This is a better option," Severus interrupted her. He didn't want Lucius to know about the poisoned potions, even if he were trustworthy; which, no matter what the situation, Severus wasn't prepared to say that. The truth was that given the time they had, it had probably been long enough to push the Leukemia into a fatal state, but he wasn't turning down an opportunity to escape even if it wasn't to fatal levels yet. No one would be here to continue the "healing" potions, so eventually he'd die, and if not then the Order could deal with it however they want after they're freed.

He could see the conflict crossing her mind as she looked out at the man she hated and would now be forced to trust. If she ended up dead from what she considered to be misplaced trust, it would be the same result as at the end of her tenure healing the Dark Lord.

"Ok," she conceded, likely after going through the same thought process Severus had. "So what's the plan?"

At her agreement, Lucius appeared to visibly relax; or as much as a double agent who was only days away from his mission could.

"The Order of the Phoenix is currently stationed at a farm just outside of the Malfoy property that's tied to the Manor by a series of underground, abandoned tunnels," Severus started explaining as both Slytherins knew he was the best one to do it. "Once Lucius is _confident_ ," he emphasized that word as a reminder not to give Albus the go ahead until he was sure the wards could be disabled and enabled successfully, "he can disable the wards in the order necessary for the team to breach the premises, they'll send help to get us out."

"Why can't we just leave through the Tunnels?"

It was a logical question and one he'd already gone through with the Malfoy patriarch.

"Unless you are sufficient enough with wandless magic, we need more support," Severus said, "not to mention that the boys' room is under guard, correct?"

"Yes," she nodded, having been there far too many times. "There are usually two guards standing post."

"During the day," Lucius corrected, "at night that drops down to one. That time will be, by far, our best chance to get them out without too much interference."

"And then what?" She asked incredulously, "we simply run to the Tunnels?"

"More or less," Severus answered, remembering doing almost this same mission for Sarah and Mary Smithe. This time though, they'd be entering a fully armed Manor instead of one that was barely protected. "Again, we don't have much other choice."

A pregnant pause fell over the room as each person realized that once they started this, there was no turning back. It was either escape or die trying.

"When?" The healer broke their silence with a firm voice behind her question.

For this one, Severus looked to Lucius for an answer.

"Next week," the blonde said with a nod.

A week. In a week they would hopefully be back in the safety of Hogwarts. Now he could only hope Harry held off on whatever plans he's been making until the rescue team arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: The 15th and 16th of May


	73. The 15th and 16th of May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: If you skipped chapter 68's AU memory, you'll want to skip this one too. It definitely talks about death and the process of death of a child through the parent's eyes in a very real way. There is no doubt about this one: it's very sad. Outside of setting the overall tone for this chapter, you won't miss much from skipping it.
> 
> Disclaimer: There's a section near the end that comes from the Deathly Hallows. I do not own that part, but since it was so similar to what I needed, I repurposed it for this chapter

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_It had been one of the hardest weeks of Severus's life. He'd been pushed to his limits, completely exhausted, and emotionally drained. Sirius and Molly hadn't left their quarters since Harry's condition had taken a turn for the worst only three days ago and according to Alton and Healer Walker they should be prepared for it to happen any time. Naturally, that meant Severus was sleeping as little as possible, just so he could spend as much time with his son as possible. He'd have plenty of time to sleep after; what else would he have?_

_In the five weeks since Harry's terminal diagnosis, they'd gone through all the necessary arrangements, something that distressed the professor greatly, but somehow calmed Harry's nerves over it all. It helped the young wizard come to accept what was going to happen to him. Severus, though, wanted to protest; not the decisions - whatever Harry wanted was fine by him - but the fact that he had to think about it at all. No amount of preparation was going to make the funeral arrangements any easier once Harry was gone._

_They'd done all they could to keep Harry comfortable, no longer needing to worry about the addictive qualities of the strong muggle or wizarding medications, and each day Severus could tell it was getting closer. Each day Harry was awake and lucid less and less. Originally, they were supposed to go to Spinner's End, except Harry was adamant he stay going to classes as long as he could and when that was no longer possible, he wanted to be close to his friends, and then finally it was decided he'd be more comfortable in the castle. No matter what home they'd built together, Hogwarts had always been Harry's first real home and this was where he should be when it was over._

_The exhaustion was evident in everyone who stepped into their quarters, however on the morning of the 15th Severus knew it would be the end. Harry was too tired of holding on and the professor knew it was time to let his son go. He'd get to see Lily and James again, he'd be in no more pain, and he'd have no more expectations on him, what more could a father want for his dying son? It would be selfish to keep Harry here through the pain only to prevent his own pain; he needed to let go._

_Since it was a Thursday and they had no idea how long Harry would still be here, Albus had excused Harry's friends from classes and they came in and out of their quarters throughout the day. At first it angered Severus, for reasons he wasn't even aware of, but Molly did her best to help temper his anger and it ended up being a good distraction. The last thing he needed - even if he didn't know it at the time - was to be sitting idle and waiting. He cried and he didn't care who saw him. At this point Minerva, Albus, and, much to his own embarrassment, Molly and Sirius, had seen that happen plenty of times in the past couple of weeks; when they thought it was time, but then Harry kept holding on._

_By the time the sun had gone down, his quarters were quiet again with only himself, Molly, Sirius, Ron, and Hermione present. Dinner had been brought to them by a set of house elves and it remained untouched by any of them on the table in the sitting room while they all sat around Harry's bedroom. Roast beef; that was the meal served in the Great Hall that night and to the mourning occupants in the dungeon quarters the evening before Harry died, and Severus was sure he'd never be able to eat that again without thinking of his son._

_By curfew, much to their chagrin, Ron and Hermione were forced to leave. It was heartbreaking to watch Harry's two best friends say goodbye to him knowing that he probably wouldn't be here when they returned in the morning. Molly did her best to comfort them because there was nothing Severus could say. Even before all of this, he wouldn't know what to say to someone in their position. It wasn't ok, no matter what others told him. They wouldn't be ok. Eventually, they would all have to try to move on, but Severus knew he wouldn't. He didn't know what he would do without Harry here._

_When there were only the three adults left for the night to be with the young wizard, they stayed up and waited. Molly brought coffee as often as needed. They barely talked - Molly only to see if there was anything she could do - they just listened to Harry's strained breathing and the small clock on the bedside table ticking away the seconds… one o'clock in the morning… two o'clock in the morning… three o'clock in the morning - when Sirius and Molly left for the sitting room to give Severus time alone with his son - until half past three o'clock in the morning when the raspy breathing was no longer heard. He sat there, completely unable to move or think about anything besides how his world had come crashing down._

_He needed to go and let Molly and Sirius know that it was over, Harry was in a better place - wherever they thought that was - and most importantly, he wouldn't be in pain any longer. That walk to the sitting room was one of the longest in his life. Having taken the walk so many times over the last two weeks, he could do it with his eyes closed and he practically did because he had zero recollection of it. No words were exchanged - they didn't need to be to know what had happened - Severus simply gave a very small nod._

_Then on his way into the room, fully planning on sinking into his favorite armchair, he caught sight of the adoption certificate on the fireplace mantle and his heart lurched. Taking a detour to the fireplace he took a moment to look at all of the pictures highlighting some of their best memories over the years, allowing his grief to fill him up about the ones he'd now miss: Harry's acceptance into the auror program, his wedding, and if he decided to have children, the birth of his kids. Without thinking, he picked up the clock on the mantle and threw it against the wall to his left, under the enchanted window depicting the black lake under the night sky, and then he fell to the floor in tears._

~~~~ SS~~~~

**_Thursday 15th, May 1997_ **

Severus opened his eyes on the 15th of May wishing he hadn't; wishing he could continue to sleep straight through this miserable day. He'd considered trying to make a heavy dose of Dreamless Sleep, however he needed to be awake and lucid should the Order decide that today was the day they'd be rescued. At this point, Severus had hoped to have been rescued and far away from this nightmare before the anniversary - or actual date - of Harry's death, just so he wouldn't need to be _here_ on top of the awful day. Though technically that wasn't right. On paper, his son had died on the 16th at half past three in the morning, meaning both the 15th and the 16th would always be tainted for him. He remembered it like it was yesterday, and not even everything from this year could come close to erasing the grief and pain he'd felt every single day since he said goodbye.

Breakfast that morning in the cell with Healer Walker was a quiet affair. Each morning since Lucius's visit last Saturday was spent anxiously waiting to hear if that night would be the night; if the Order was ready to move in on the rescue mission. He had to remind himself that the goal of the mission was for rescue, not for arrest, and therefore they would wait until they could enter and exit the Manor with as little detection as possible, in an effort to succeed in their primary goal of rescuing the prisoners locked in the estate. Each morning when no news came, they settled into their daily work; for Severus that was potions and for Nadine it was recovering from the last ritual or mentally preparing herself for the next one. Today though, Severus wasn't making potions; he'd make up for it later.

By midday, even Nadine had picked up that something was eating away at him. She'd kept her distance and neither had spoken a word since waking, an event that in itself was odd because since being brought into the plans she'd become a nervous talker. Today though, he sat silent and she'd picked up on his icy exterior. Severus was sitting before the fireplace, leaning up against his measly mattress with his legs bent, drawing his knees almost directly upward. The healer was sitting on her own thin mattress watching him - and every so often pretending to read - waiting for any indication that he was going to give her an insight into his mind.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" She finally succumbed to the deafening silence and asked the question that had been plaguing her mind. He had no doubt she assumed it had to do with their rescue; perhaps he'd heard it had been called off or some other equally disturbing news regarding it or the Order.

With the grief so close to the surface, he didn't dare trust his voice; relying instead on the look of bitter pain in his eyes to help explain.

"Sometimes it helps to talk things through," she tried again, "I can tell whatever it is, it's deeply affecting you."

Of course it was deeply affecting him; this one event changed his entire life and then by extension, the entire world around them. The moment he drank that potion, he was brought - _randomly?_ \- into this new world and forever changed the lives of those around him. How could he be so selfish, especially because now he didn't even have Harry, nor did he know if the young wizard would survive this. Where would this year have brought them had he not drank that potion almost a year ago?

"Today is the day my son died," his voice was scratchy from lack of use and he couldn't make eye contact with her when he'd said it, but simply continued to stare into the fireplace. The dancing flames were so calming and freeing, the two emotions he hadn't felt in too long, and he didn't want to let that go.

"I didn't realize…" she started. "I'm sorry."

Severus could feel her confusion radiating from the other side of the small room, getting closer to him as she approached. Mirroring his position against her own mattress, she tucked her knees to her chest and took turns staring between him and the fireplace.

"How did he-"

"Leukemia," Severus interrupted, not having the energy or the resolve to keep up the charade today.

There was another long pause. The fire crackled between them and he listened carefully in the background for any indication that someone was arriving for them; that he'd be taken far away from here. That wasn't going to happen though. With each passing day that week, and the awful days of the 15th and 16th drew nearer, he was becoming less and less sure that they would in fact be rescued. In the back of his mind, he knew logically it was the anniversary anxiety, but at the same time, he didn't care. He was falling into a blackhole and, similar to what he'd told Harry all those months ago after he restarted classes, unless he told someone it would consume him. Sometime in the space between Healer Walker joining him by the fireplace and saying the word Leukemia out loud, he realized he'd never really dealt with his grief from the death of his son. He spent the five days between his death and the funeral finishing the preparations for the funeral, constantly surrounded by people, and then there was really only one day after the funeral, the day he took the potion. And after the potion… well, he'd gone from one major event to another, and now his grief had worked its way back up to the surface, refusing to be ignored.

Propping his elbows up onto his bent knees, he held his head feeling all the things he'd pushed aside this past year flood back into him. For the fourth time, he started explaining about where he'd come from, thinking that a Ravenclaw like Nadine would most likely deem him completely mental and delusional. She didn't though, and he expected his heavy sorrow pouring through his words probably helped endorse the fact that no matter how far fetched it sounded, he had actually woken up here one morning from a whole different world.

"But he's not the same," the healer added once he'd caught her up to the present. Somehow, telling it to someone who had no recollection of him made it easier. "Harry here is vastly different, and that bothers you?"

"Not at all," it was a logical question to ask, nevertheless he was almost insulted by the insinuation. "I'm very much aware how different they are and it feels like I've now lost him twice."

"You might be surprised," she told him. "He's had plenty of time and space to think about things and situations such as this cause people to rethink what's important in their lives. Do you think Harry would have given you a chance here if it weren't for the circumstances of his cancer? Based on what you've told me about your previous history together and the extra time he spent with his abusive relatives, I'm thinking not."

She was correct, logically, however his brain was too emotional that day to be logical about such a sensitive topic. What would have happened if he'd gotten here years before the diagnosis instead of right before? Or what if Harry didn't have Leukemia in this reality at all? It would have been almost impossible for them to get to where they were alone.

"I don't know," he eventually replied. She didn't buy his feigned ignorance on the topic, but didn't push the topic either.

"It's hard to watch a disease take those we love," she answered, solemnly. "They say it's easier when you know it's coming compared to a sudden death… so you can prepare yourself for it, but it doesn't matter. A death is a death."

_A death is a death._

Another absolutely true statement. It had seemed to be a common response to Harry's impending death 'at least he could prepare for it'. Yes, he knew it was coming and the idea that his son could have some part in the funeral arrangements - knowing he wouldn't have to guess his last wishes - was something positive, but nothing could prepare a person to say that final goodbye knowing life would never be the same after that moment. Nothing kept out the thoughts of all the small moments that would forever be missed: packing up for the summer, holidays, and birthdays. And then there was the daily reminders like the fact that Hedwig would have been going home with him alone, missing seeing his son in classes, and simply getting to walk up to the Gryffindor table to congratulate the teen on a well played Quidditch match. It was all too much.

"No," he said to her, turning his head to make eye contact for the first time that day, "it doesn't make it any easier."

She had been there, a fact that he didn't bring up because he didn't want to make things weird between them for however long they had left in this small room together. In this reality, though, there was someone he found himself wishing he'd be able to talk to and it was Dr Swanson. Unfortunately, she saw this debilitating disease rip apart families all of the time, and would have the best idea of how he was feeling. He could tell she held her patients very close to her and their deaths would feel similar to his own experience with it.

Around three o'clock in the afternoon, twelve and a half hours before the true anniversary of Harry's death and exactly twelve hours before the Blood Ritual taking place the next morning, Nadine was called - or collected, as Alton used to say - for the Dark Lord's daily check up. Severus had expected Lucius to be the one to pick her up, and hopefully come with well timed news of their escape, so when Alecto Carrow swung the door open and entered without a word, he naturally assumed today was out. Healer Walker was grabbed by her upper arm and practically dragged by the Death Eater witch and out of the room so quickly, Severus barely had time to process it. Overall, he'd come to recognize that the Carrow siblings were almost as bad as the Lestranges; Bellatrix being the one that tipped the scale towards the latter. Turning back towards the fire, still lost in his thoughts of the day, he didn't immediately notice that the door didn't close as harshly as it should have for the speed of which it was closed. Instead, it was only when the soft _click_ of the door being gently closed did he notice something was wrong.

Without putting too much thought behind his actions, the former spy swiftly stood with his back against the wall to the right of the fireplace and raised his hands to defend himself. It wouldn't do anything against a wand, but it was the only option he had. Being fully prepared to fight, mentally, it took him a second to identify the man in front of him as Lucius.

"Planning to muggle duel me, Severus?" The blonde slowly asked, not at all alarmed at the professor in front of him. "I will say, you've come a long way since your Hogwarts' days, you could probably get at least one hit in."

"It's about time," Severus replied with a scowl, "I take it there's finally some news?"

"Tonight," Lucius answered, it wasn't ideal but of all the days, if nothing else, this would keep his mind busy from just waiting for half past three this morning. If he was lucky - which was a stretch - maybe by the time that milestone came around he would at least be back in the safety of the castle, most likely with Albus in his office or the hospital wing at Poppy's ridiculous insistence.

"Time?" He asked his friend.

"We need to wait until the guards change on the boys' room upstairs," Lucius explained. "Tonight is Yaxley's night, who just so happens to be frustrated with the… detour… in the Dark Lord's original plans, and wouldn't mind seeing him perish to a muggle disease."

"I'm surprised _he's_ advertising the identity of his ailments," the dark-haired wizard skeptically pointed out.

Lucius gave a small smirk, "Let's just say a very targeted rumor was started recently and there's been talk among some of the more traditional followers."

"Do we need to anticipate a coup d'etat?"

Severus wouldn't be surprised at all if that should happen before the Dark Lord was killed from the cancer. It was no secret that a subset of them - specifically some of his earliest followers - had started questioning how they'd gotten so far away from their intended goal: to take back what was rightfully theirs from the muggle world. Somewhere along the way, largely due to the prophecy however Severus would never admit that to just anyone, it turned into a single tasked mission of killing Harry Potter. They were now being told that if he - and he alone - could accomplish that single task, their side would win. It wasn't true though, and even before the cancer started to work its way through his evil body, he had doubts in his ranks; those who knew that a fourteen, then fifteen, and now sixteen year old wizard wasn't the one stopping them from taking over. No, it was the fact that their leader was embarrassed to have been beaten so many times by this child that he needed to show his dominance to win back his followers full faith in him; even he knew they questioned his superiority. As for a coup d'etat? There wasn't enough rank built up by any single marked Death Eater to successfully pull that off. Yaxley or Rodolphus would be the closest second in command, a position that used to belong to Severus, especially after Lucius's failure at the Department of Mysteries, but neither had the blind unanimous support of the other Death Eaters to successfully take over Voldemort's reign.

"Perhaps," the Malfoy patriarch honestly replied, "but we'll be long gone before that happens... I believe after tonight, Zanzibar is in the Malfoys' future."

"It won't be for long," he commented. "I have a strong feeling that the Dark Lord won't last long without the Blood Ritual."

To his credit, Lucius didn't pry for any further information. As the proper man he was, he allowed the statement and his curiosity about it flow over him as he went into the plans for the night.

Yaxley was scheduled to take over the single guard duty at eleven o'clock on Harry's and Draco's room. Since it was a ritual morning, that gave the Order only three hours to breach the premises, make it into the Manor, get the three cells - the two boys, him with Healer Walker, and Dr Swanson - opened, and everyone to leave before their absence was noticed. To help give some extra time, Lucius, as the current master and owner of the wards, was planning on disabling the wards in sections to allow the team to approach as early as possible, and then he'd re-enable them as they made their way towards the Manor. This would be accomplished by having Narcissa casually walk the back gardens, as she'd been doing every night since the conception of the plan, and Lucius going in search of his wife. In a well planned-out - and hopefully fully understood by Moody via the peacock missives - pattern, Lucius would begin disabling and reenabling the wards. Should they fall out of sync at any time or one of the wards fail to fall, the Dark Lord would immediately be notified of a human presence. Severus knew there were suggestions thrown around about sending Minerva in her animagus form, and he hoped that never actually came to fruition.

Once the team neared the wine cellars, they would stay put until the eleven o'clock guard change because the cellars had a more complex set of wards that Lucius couldn't completely disable as they entered the Manor proper. This meant that they would need to work quickly because from that point forward, while there wouldn't be an official alarm to the Dark Lord, a set of Death Eaters - most likely a combination of Macnair, Crabbe, or Goyle - would be sent to investigate. A team would be sent to take down Yaxley a little ahead of the other two because should they be discovered, it was most important to get those two boys out of here. Healer Walker would be the first to be collected for the Blood Ritual tonight, which would also be keeping Bellatrix and the Dark Lord himself occupied, and therefore if the boys could be safe before then, it would be considered a successful mission.

Lucius was conveniently scheduled to guard Dr Swanson's room tonight, though he was never allowed to guard alone and therefore Rabastan would be standing alongside him. The blonde would be responsible for incapacitating Rabastan before the Order team arrived, and it wouldn't surprise Severus if somehow the younger Lestrange brother ended up dead tonight. As long as it was quiet and didn't risk their mission, it would be no real loss to the former spy outside of the fact that he wished he could be the one to do it.

Finally, a distraction - of what, Severus didn't ask because he wasn't sure he wanted to know - would be used to help distract the two guards on his own and Healer Walker's cell. They would be the last to be rescued and Severus wouldn't have it any other way. He didn't plan to tell Nadine about it all until the moment before their door was opened because she would be too on edge the entire night. A combination of hopefully strong Order members would then take down their guards and get them the bloody hell out of there.

The end goal was to get in and out of the Manor without being detected. However, knowing things didn't always go as planned, each team would be bringing extra wands for Severus, Nadine, Draco, and Lucius; giving each team at least one extra fighter should it become necessary. Should it become necessary though, Albus had given direct instructions to cast to kill, something the Order was not used to and likely caused some nerves in the people waiting, at that exact moment, at the Farm.

Lucius departed well before Nadine returned back from whatever it was she did during the Dark Lord's visit, in an effort not to cause any unnecessary animosity before they all needed to depend on one another for their survival. Given their earlier conversation, he let the healer assume his withdrawn mood was mostly due to thinking about Harry. He still was thinking of that, of course, however now he had other things - not more important, merely more immediate - to focus on. The reality hadn't fully settled into his mind that should he survive tonight, he would get to see Harry again, and maybe, just maybe he could try to explain the complexity of what had happened all those years ago.

* * *

The first sign that something had gone wrong was when Severus heard a commotion outside of their door far earlier than it should have been. Given that they were supposed to be the _last_ room freed - only after Harry and Draco had made it safely into the tunnels and Dr Swanson on her way there - he hadn't expected anyone coming their way until around one o'clock in the morning. It was over an hour earlier and unless things went extremely smooth, there was something very wrong.

Both occupants of the tiny cell were sitting on their beds when the noise was first heard. The guards outside the door made a small yelp in surprise before it became eerily silent. Severus was instantly on alert and Nadine covered her mouth with her shaking hands as she stood. The former spy followed, standing confident and strong behind the potions workbench to use as cover should they need it.

"Get behind me," he demanded to the scared witch. Right now was a time to be in control, she needed a leader who had been in combat previously and she obeyed, trusting him in a way he was not used to. "Tonight's the night the Order's coming for us, but it's far too early. Something must have triggered a change in the plans."

He hoped whoever was on the other side of that door had the two wands because he was anxious to get out and fight. He'd been locked away for so long, his magic was building up inside of him wanting, aching, to be released.

"Don't you think you should have told me this _before now?!"_

"I hardly think it's productive to focus on that right now," he called out to her behind him.

They stood still, barely even breathing, when blasts started hitting the heavy door; knowing that they were completely defenseless. It had to be the Order, there was no other reason for the Death Eaters to try to break the door down, but the former spy wasn't about to take any risks.

In a matter of seconds, the door to their cell door burst opened, causing the pair to duck down behind the large laboratory workbench. In the blasting of the door, the fireplace had extinguished leaving the room completely dark with no other source of light available. A cloud of dust fell over the room and he heard sets of footsteps crunching over the wooden door debris slowly getting closer to them. Three small beads of light approached and turning to the trembling witch next to him, Severus held his finger to his lips to signal to her to keep quiet.

"I thought Lucius said he'd be expecting us," came the familiar voice of Bill Weasley directly in front of him.

"Plan's changed," Kingsley replied from the left of the room.

Deciding that such a casual conversation likely meant there wasn't any current danger, Severus stood to show himself to his rescuers. Slowly walking about the room, with their illuminated wands held out in front of them, was Bill Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Remus Lupin.

"You're early," the professor called out, gesturing for Nadine to follow suit.

"The team upstairs ran into some early interference," Bill explained. "Our orders were at the first sound of trouble, to move in immediately."

"Have they gotten to the boys yet?" Severus nervously asked.

"No idea," Lupin answered, "we heard the dueling upstairs and didn't hesitant to get down here. We can only hope they managed to get out before they ran into anyone."

Which meant there was still the chance that Harry and Draco were stuck in their bedroom upstairs oblivious - for the most part - that a rescue team was on their way. He couldn't leave the premises without some kind of knowledge that they would be safe.

"We need to go," Kingsley, the voice of reason, called out to the group, while simultaneously tossing wands to Severus and Healer Walker.

The second the strange wand was in his hand, he could feel his magic excite inside of him. These last two months were the longest he'd ever gone without using magic since turning seventeen. His thoughts wandered to Harry and his circumstances over the past year, plus his loss of magic now. For the first time since that awful original crossroad in his old reality, the professor could understand why his son chose the potions; to protect his magic at the risk - and ultimately the loss - of his own life. The wound from that simple, yet important decision, started to heal inside of him and he could start to put that regret to rest; he could finally admit that given the same option from _Harry's_ position, he would have likely made the same choice of the potions over the chemotherapy.

It was an epiphany that would need to be explored later, because the moment they exited the room into the corridor of the dungeons, they could hear the distinct sounds of a battle overhead.

"I need to make sure Harry gets out," Severus called to the group around him.

"Severus-" Kingsley started what was sure to be a lecture.

"You get Nadine and the others to the Tunnels and I'll make my way to the second story," Severus called out, "unless you think at this point getting out of the anti-apparation wards would be easier."

"Our orders are to get you out of here," the auror argued back, "not go around the Manor on a search mission."

"I'll go with him," Lupin volunteered, causing Severus to narrow his eyes at the werewolf. Now that he had a wand, he certainly didn't require a babysitter, and why would it make a difference if there were two of them? Not wanting to delay this process any further by protesting, Severus nodded his head at the chaperone accompanying him.

"Fine," Kingsley conceded, likely for the same reasons Severus had agreed to Lupin's help.

The five of them walked together, making their way through the corridor as quickly and quietly as possible towards the bottom of the stairs that would lead them up to the ground floor. A quick turn to Kingsley, Severus motioned that at the top of the stairs, he and Lupin would be going to the right - on their way to the caretaker's staircase that would lead them upstairs - while Bill, Kingsley, and Nadine continued to the left towards the buttery and out to the safety of the Tunnels. With nods all around, the group made their way up the stairs.

A quick peek around the doorway showed the area was oddly clear. Given that their cover had obviously been blown, he would have expected more guards sent down to the dungeons. His answer came rather quickly as Fred, or George, Weasley came running up alongside Tonks and Fleur, their wands brandished and faces covered in dust, cuts, and blood.

"She got her!" Tonks yelled at seeing the group emerge from the dungeon corridor. "Your mum was absolutely amazing!"

The Metamorphmagus came jumping up to Bill in an inappropriate manner for the severity of the situation before them. Lupin gave a small smile at her.

"What happened?" Bill asked, but was pulled along by Kingsley muttering that this was not the time to discuss specifics.

"She keelled Bellatreex!" Fleur swung her arms around her fiance. "Zee eveel weetch almost keelled Fred, and Molly attacked!"

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the endearing gesture, though the news that Bellatrix was no longer terrorizing the Earth by simply breathing made him feel a touch better about the pause in their mission for a status update.

"Have they gotten Harry and Draco out?" He asked the trio who had joined them.

"No idea," the younger Weasley brother - obviously George - answered, "we haven't seen them yet, been busy securing the corridors leading to the Tunnels for you lot!"

"You have my sincerest gratitude," the professor distractedly replied. "Let's go Lupin, we have to get upstairs."

Without any further complaints, the pair of wizards made their way around the ground floor of the expansive estate heading towards where Severus knew at least one of the four sets of staircases resided. For their purpose, they would forego the main stairs in the middle of the home in an effort to stay hidden as long as possible, choosing one of the staff staircases in the back of the Manor. They were able to stay in the shadows as much as possible as they made their way to the stairs, passing by the various rooms and the library. They only encountered two Death Eaters - Pettigrew and Travers of all wizards - and were both taken down fairly easily, though neither killed. In a fleeting thought, Severus questioned if Lupin had ever used the killing curse, and if not it wasn't likely something he'd be able to cast.

Unfortunately, as with everything else from that night, that was the easiest their night would go. It would seem that even their benefit of the element of surprise wasn't enough to throw the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord off. As the pair of wizards had made their way up the staircase, they were roughly halfway up when a figure stood before them at the top. Drawing their wands a second too late, both wands instantly flew from their hands in a tandem attack with an assailant that had joined from the bottom of the stairs. Assuming that Severus lived through this, he would curse himself for not reacting with a shielding spell quicker; it could have made all the difference in the end.

"Well, well, well," came the menacing voice of Fenrir Greyback from the top of the stairwell, "look who we found."

Greyback slowly walked towards them with his wand pointed directly at Lupin. Severus was well aware of the history between the two werewolves and backed down the stairs. Upon seeing the former spy on the move, the figure from below - now identified as Augustus Rookwood - moved upwards, until he was close enough to sharply push his wand into Severus back.

"Let's get these two to the drawing room," Rookwood spat out, "I'm sure our master wants to deal with them."

Severus thought quickly of how to find a way out of their current debacle, but from the stairwell, they were out of options. Until they made it out of the small space, there was nothing he could do. Allowing themselves to be taken, the odd pair of wizards - who were at one time mortal enemies and would now need to depend on one another - were forcibly dragged out of the stairway and then pulled the short distance from the stairs to the drawing room.

It was here that Severus had hoped it would work to his advantage to get out of the situation they'd found themselves in. What he didn't expect to see was Minerva, Fred Weasley, Molly, Narcissa, and Lucius, all being held captive by a set of Death Eaters. But it was what he saw next to them that would have stopped him in his tracks had Rookwood not continued pulling him into the room. Standing off to the left from the others, being firmly held by Nott, was Harry. It was his first time seeing the young wizard since the vision back in March and Severus's body was blanketed with a range of emotions he wasn't in any condition to process. Harry was dressed in a pair of black pyjamas that had clearly once belonged to Draco at some point and the young wizard looked healthier than Severus had seen him since starting chemotherapy. The biggest difference though, and one that even despite their grave situation caused Severus to smile, was the thick layer of raven-black hair that had started to regrow on the Gryffindor's head. It was almost a symbol of the good things that could be ahead of them, if only they were anywhere but here. Harry was valiantly trying to pull himself out of Nott's grasp, but the Death Eater wasn't daring to even lighten his grip on the Boy-Who-Lived.

Next to Harry was Avery holding Draco with his arms pinned so tightly behind his back, Severus was sure at least one of his shoulders had been dislocated; not that anyone would have noticed - or cared - as the young Slytherin was also actively trying to get away from his captor. He was proud of Draco's persistence, that he refused to go quietly. With both younger wizards putting up a fight next to each other, it would collectively give at least one of their captors the opportunity to get distracted. For Severus though, this definitely complicated matters because there was no conceivable way that he alone could escape without getting at least one of the other eight people - including Lupin who was brought in right after him - killed.

"Severus," the familiar evil voice of Lord Voldemort called out from behind him. The former Death Eater jerked his body to try to release himself from the grasp of Rookwood, but all that did was cause the wizard behind him to tighten his hold on his prisoner and kick the back of his knees until Severus was kneeling on the drawing room floor.

"You've lost, Severus" the Dark Lord taunted him, "what have you managed to gain tonight? A muggle and magical healer? As long as I still have my soul-" he pointed to Harry, "my blood-" he pointed to Draco, before turning to point at him, "and my cure. You have _nothing_."

"You seem to be forgetting," Severus added motioning to Harry, "He needs that _muggle_ healer to survive. Otherwise all of this is pointless."

Another sinister laugh echoed through the vast room, from the hardwood floors to the extravagantly decorated cathedral ceiling, "I'll have another horcrux made before that happens. And then? He's useless to me and completely… expendable."

Harry and Draco both continued to struggle against their bindings as Severus surveyed the room around them. They were without wands, outnumbered, but he could hear the bangs and crashes from the floor below his feet. Hope wasn't lost; someone was still fighting and eventually they'd make it up to the drawing room to help. Plus, as the Dark Lord so aptly pointed out, the three of them served a very important purpose. The others in the room became his primary focus.

"Shall I see what other _secrets_ you've been hiding from me?"

Severus knew what was coming even before the _Legilimens_ was cast. As quickly as he could, he pulled up his own Occlumency shields, and tried to push the evil wizard out of his mind. Had it been any other day, he would have succeeded without a doubt, but he was too mentally exhausted on that day.

Naturally the first memory to cross his eyes was the moment of Harry's death, and that solidified his downfall; he knew he was far too emotional to block out anything else. Not that it mattered though; was there really anything else the Dark Lord could find in his mind that he didn't already know? As each memory painfully raced across his mind - Harry's adoption, their first Christmas together, his diagnosis, countless hours spent making potions, Harry's funeral, and his conversation with Albus about the red potion. Switching to this reality, he saw the day he woke up here, watched the countless times he helped Harry through his chemotherapy - both at Privet Drive and at Hogwarts - him watching the young Gryffindor sleep back at Privet Drive, training with Draco, Capture the Dragon with his sixth year students, until finally the Dark Lord ended up on the only true memory that mattered, one that Severus was ashamed he hadn't thought about before it started playing: the conversation he had with Nadine about poisoning the potions.

The evil wizard ripped out of his mind so quickly, Severus was thrown backwards into Rookwood's chest. It wasn't hard enough to cause the Death Eater to release him - Severus wasn't that lucky - though it didn't stop the professor from trying to take advantage of the situation and pull harder to get free.

"I can cure it," he immediately said; not in an attempt to negotiate, not to try to save his own life, but to keep the already unstable wizard from turning around and killing every single person in that room, his followers included.

If the Dark Lord would have said anything, it would have made Severus's anxiety decrease, it would have actually calmed him because it would be a normal reaction to the evil wizard's anger. They all knew he enjoyed playing with his victims before he killed them, and Severus's betrayal for a second time - right under his absent nose - would not go without punishment and, ultimately, his death. His time was limited the second the dark wizard entered his mind and now he needed to do what he could to save those around him. To save Harry, because that's what all of this was about; it's why he took the red potion a year ago, almost to the day. Rather than talking though, Lord Voldemort circled Severus, waving his hand to dismiss Rookwood from his side. Both actions terrified the former spy.

It was now only the two of them and time seemed to stand still. The dark wizard's circling was starting to slow and Severus knew this was it, he could almost see the killing curse dancing on the serpentine tongue of the man around him; there was no chance he was going to make it out of this alive.

He wanted to close his eyes, but he hadn't come this far to cower away from the green light that he knew was now inevitable. His ears were pounding with the beat of his heart so loudly that no other sound around him existed: it was only his beating heart and racing breath, both of which would stop any second. When Voldemort stopped his circling and backed up to take his last shot at the man that had been given more chances than he deserved, Severus was grateful that he hadn't blocked his view of Harry, who was fighting viciously against the wizard holding him, harder than Severus had ever seen the young wizard fight. And in his last moment, his onyx eyes met Harry's emerald ones and he felt the forgiveness pass through them. The only thing he could think to do was nod his head at the child that wasn't his son, but he wished he could have been. Had things happened a little differently, had Severus chosen to be honest, he was confident they would have gotten there.

Forcing himself to take his eyes off Harry, who was still fighting to get away, Severus turned and looked around the room. Each Death Eater, the Dark Lord included, was laughing at him - made more eerie by Severus's inability to hear it - and the others who fought by his side all these years were staring between himself and Harry with sorrow filled eyes; all of them sure to be thinking how odd of a situation it was that Harry Potter was so distraught over Severus Snape's impending death. His eyes turned back towards his executioner and he waited. Severus watched as Voldemort's face contorted in anger and though Severus could see the thin pale lips move, he couldn't hear the words spoken from them, he didn't have to; he knew exactly what was coming. What he didn't expect was the flash of black that crossed in front of his face, so when the green light left Voldemort's wand, it hit directly into the body that had been standing in front of his own.

Time almost stood still in that split second it took for Harry's body to hit the ground with a hard _thump_ that vibrated around the room. And in that split second, Severus's whole life shattered for the second time. He'd come to terms and accepted his own death, but not Harry's; not again.

The serpentine wizard that had been standing across from him, holding his ivory wand in glee, had fallen to the ground after Harry was hit. The Death Eaters around the room stood as shocked as their prisoners when he didn't immediately stand victoriously. Severus's eyes, however, never left the young wizard laying directly in front him. His eyes were drawn to something sitting next to Harry's lifeless hand. It was a wand, most likely Nott's, and it took a second for Severus's mind to catch up to the situation around him.

_The horcrux is gone._

Without hesitating and in one smooth movement, Severus grabbed the wand, and pointed at the dark wizard's body on the other side of Harry's.

" _Avada Kedavra_!" Severus yelled with the last bit of his physical and emotional strength he had left. He didn't even watch the familiar bright green light leave the end of the borrowed wand, or if it had hit its intended target, all Severus could see was Harry laying on the floor in front of him completely unmoving before he fell to the ground and everything around him went black.

~~~~HP~~~~

He lay face down, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself. A long time later, or maybe no time at all, it came to him that he must exist, must be more than disembodied thought, because he was lying, definitely lying, on some surface. Therefore he had a sense of touch, and the thing against which he lay existed too. Almost as soon as he had reached this conclusion, Harry became conscious that he was naked. Convinced as he was of his total solitude, this did not concern him, but it did intrigue him slightly. He wondered whether, as he could feel, he would be able to see. In opening them, he discovered that he had eyes.

He lay in a bright mist, though it was not like mist he had ever experienced before. His surroundings were not hidden by cloudy vapor; rather the cloudy vapor had not yet formed into surroundings. The floor on which he lay seemed to be white, neither warm nor cold, but simply there, a flat, blank something on which to be. He sat up. His body appeared unscathed. He touched his face. He was not wearing his glasses anymore.

Then a noise reached him through the unformed nothingness that surrounded him: the small soft thumping of something that flapped, flailed, and struggled. It was a pitiful noise, yet also slightly indecent. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was eavesdropping on something furtive, shameful. For the first time, he wished he were clothed. Barely had the wish formed in his head than robes appeared a short distance away. He took them and pulled them on. They were soft, clean, and warm. It was extraordinary how they had appeared just like that, the moment he had wanted them. . . .

He stood up, looking around. Was he in some great Room of Requirement? The longer he looked, the more there was to see. A great domed glass roof glittered high above him in sunlight. Perhaps it was a palace. All was hushed and still, except for those odd thumping and whimpering noises coming from somewhere close by in the mist. . . . Harry turned slowly on the spot, and his surroundings seemed to invent themselves before his eyes. A wide-open space, bright and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. He was the only person there, except for – He recoiled. He had spotted the thing that was making the noises. It had the form of a small, naked child, curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking, and it lay shuddering under a seat where it had been left, unwanted, stuffed out of sight, struggling for breath. He was afraid of it. Small and fragile and wounded though it was, he did not want to approach it. Nevertheless he drew slowly nearer, ready to jump back at any moment. Soon he stood near enough to touch it, yet he could not bring himself to do it. He felt like a coward. He ought to comfort it, but it repulsed him.

"There's nothing you can do," came a soft voice from behind him. Harry closed his eyes because he knew exactly who was there; no matter when this moment came, she was always going to be the one waiting for him.

Gaining the courage from deep inside of him, he turned around and opened his eyes. Standing before him was his mum. Her signature thick dark red hair came down to her shoulders, but it was her almond shaped bright green eyes - Harry's eyes - that eased the uncertainty within him. She was there, standing in front of him and when he reached his hand out for her, she took a hold of it. Her skin was warm and soft, and the warmth radiated into his core, pushing out the cold that had been a constant presence since his chemotherapy started. His mother took him in her arms, and he sank into her hug and it felt better than he imagined it would.

"That was the piece of _him_ wasn't it?" Harry asked when they finally parted, and then furrowed his brows because that wasn't exactly how he imagined his first words to his mother.

"Yes, sweetheart," she pulled him closer. "What you did tonight was very brave."

He shook his head. It wasn't that he disagreed, he just hadn't put much thought when he found his way out of Nott's grasp and ran towards Snape. But Voldemort could now be killed and hopefully it gave Snape time to get away. He wasn't wherever they were, so there was hope the man hadn't been killed, because Harry naturally assumed he was in the afterlife.

Focusing his mind back to the situation in front of him, since there was nothing he could do about the people back at the Manor, he followed his mother down the bright corridor. As he walked, the rest of the space was starting to appear around him, but the only thing he saw, further up ahead, sitting on a bench, was another person.

The other figure stood and Harry instantly knew it was his father. As everyone had told him throughout the years, Harry looked just like the man now standing before him. James was tall with Harry's same messy raven-black hair, but had hazel eyes. Looking at his parents, for the first real time in his life, Harry felt acceptance and a true understanding of where he came from and where he belonged. The three Potter's sat down on the bench, Harry nestled between his two parents. For the longest time they sat in a loving silence, almost making up for lost time.

It was James who finally broke the silence, "We're so proud of you, son. And not only for what you did tonight, but for everything you've had to endure."

"You didn't have to die," Harry found himself saying, "it's… unfair… and if it weren't for…"

He'd come to terms with Snape's role in the prophecy not long after Draco's rational explanation about it and then again as he was watching Snape accept his own fate tonight, but sitting there with his parents brought back all the injustices he'd been subject to in his short life. He could have had a life with his parents if it weren't for Snape. But _would_ he have? If Voldemort hadn't vanished on that Halloween night, there was no way to know what the world would have looked like under his reign.

"Harry," Lily said, her bright emerald eyes looking into Harry's own, "Severus has always been a complicated man. Has he made some mistakes in his life? Yes, he has, but it's a sin he will forever carry. Not a day goes by that he doesn't think about, and regret, the decisions he's made. All of them, that is, except for you."

Harry felt his face blanch. It was odd talking to his parents about the pseudo-parent Harry had hoped the professor would have become.

"Severus has taken good care of you this year," he was surprised when it was James that said it, "he stepped up when you needed help the most and for that I will forever be grateful."

"But, you hate him." Harry argued.

"I can't hate someone who cared for and loved my son when I couldn't be there myself," James replied, which only kind of made sense to Harry, "no matter how much we despised each other back in our school days."

For Harry, it was like a boulder was lifted from his chest upon hearing that, though it didn't really matter now.

"Forgive him, Harry," Lily said in a soft, calm voice. "I already have."

"You saw everything that happened this year?"

"We've never left you," his mum nodded and lifted her hand, placing it on his chest, directly over his heart, "and we never will leave you."

Those words almost unraveled him, until he thought hard about the last part. Of course his parents wouldn't leave him now, so why did they have to say it?

"But I'm dead, right?" The young wizard asked the question that he hadn't realized had been plaguing his mind. "I'll get to stay with you now."

Lily smiled at him and his heart felt complete, "That's up to you, sweetheart."

"So… then I'm not dead?" Harry asked, almost insulted. He lifted his hand and placed it over where the curse hit him on his shoulder, "But I was hit with the killing curse. I saw the light, and I felt it..."

"You're not exactly dead yet," James clarified, "you're somewhere... in between… right now. But if you want, you can choose to come with us to the other side."

Harry was confused. How many people got to choose if they died or not? Cedric hadn't been given a choice in the matter when the killing curse hit him, and Sirius definitely wasn't given a choice when he fell through the veil. Charlie Weasley though… Harry thought back to the vision of Draco's initiation and he could see Charlie wanting death in his last moments. And then there was his own experiences this year when he wanted to quit chemotherapy, which would have ultimately killed him. It didn't feel the same though.

"So," Harry closed his eyes as he thought through what he'd been told. "I can go with you… or I can go back?"

"That's exactly it," Lily confirmed.

"I love you both," Harry said, and the word felt foreign on his tongue. In fact, he was sure he'd never said the word with the same meaning he had now because he'd never told another person he loved them. He loved Quidditch and he loved magic, but he'd never said it like this to a person.

It was a lot for his mind to even start comprehending in such a short amount of time. So he sat between his parents casually talking about all the things that had happened in his life from the cupboard to his cancer. He knew the time would come when he couldn't delay the inevitable any longer, but until then, he wanted to simply sit there as long as he could with them. Between them, he was released from all the pressures around him and he felt completely carefree. The time would come, much sooner than he was ready for, where he needed to make one final choice: to go with his parents to the afterlife or go back to living; where he would still have chemotherapy, still had no magic, and would still have to defeat Voldemort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next: The 21st of May
> 
> The next update will be the last one (ah!) on Thursday and will be a double update of chapters 74 (last real chapter) and 75 (epilogue). If you subscribe, please keep this in mind because you'll want to read them in the correct order.
> 
> A/N: A couple clarifications before Thursday's post:
> 
> You will get to hear about what happened on the rescue mission from the other sides. This was an instance where my POV was limited and the story wouldn't flow as well going back to explain it all. It will get wrapped up in the last chapter once Draco and the other Order members can provide their side of the events.
> 
> Second, I know based on canon Harry only ended up in the King's Cross Station with Dumbledore because as long Voldemort was alive with his mother's sacrifice, Harry couldn't die (something like that) and I just had Snape kill Voldemort so technically he wouldn't be there with his parents. Honestly, I absolutely hated that explanation in canon, so I chose not to include it in my story. Instead, Harry was protected by Lily's sacrifice and that was what is giving him the choice to go back or "move on".


	74. The 21st of May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Again, if you skipped the last two warning AU memories, you'll want to skip this one too. Of all the memories I wrote, this is the one that brought me to tears as I was writing it. While you won't miss much from skipping it, it does nicely tie into the beginning of the first chapter. For that part you can skip to the last paragraph of the memory, otherwise there's no other real information given. Unfortunately, most of the rest of the chapter will follow a similar heavy feeling to the first chapter of the story.
> 
> Today is a double post for this chapter followed by the epilogue (chapter 75). Be sure to check out the end of the Epilogue for what's coming up next for this universe as well as some other information from the last couple questions I received.
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone reading and for taking this journey with me, and an extra thank you to those who have left reviews along the way. Now onto the official last chapter of the fic!

~~~~AU SS~~~~

_Severus woke up that morning in a state of panic; questioning how he'd managed to sleep throughout the night. That hadn't happened in over a month, each night worse than the last. He breathed a sigh of relief thinking maybe things were finally settling down. Then his still sleep-deprived brain caught up to the situation facing him that day and it brought with it the fresh searing pain that ripped through his chest. How long would it be until he didn't have that constant reminder first thing every morning? How long until those wonderful, first thirty-seconds of his day no longer existed? It would come, he knew that, and he dreaded when it would arrive._

_He showered as he should have for an occasion like this, though he wouldn't remember actually getting in or out, nor would he remember how he ended up with his towel tightly tied around his waist, standing before his opened wardrobe. There it was, his black dress robes. The same black dress robes he wore for the adoption and then again at the Yule Ball, and the same ones he transfigured into the muggle suit for Petunia Dursley's funeral, and the very same one's he wore to the Malfoy's Christmas Party less than six months ago. He really should have gotten another set for this occasion as Molly Weasley suggested to him only three days ago, but he couldn't bring himself to go out and find a set he would only wear once. At that time, he had already known once he took them off today he'd never wear this set of robes again. He wouldn't be able to think of anything else when he picked them back up after today: the day of his son's funeral._

_Sirius insisted on coming over before taking a port key to the cemetery in Godric's Hollow - Harry would be buried beside his parents, the one thing he could finally give the young wizard he failed to protect - and the professor assumed he'd be seeing a lot of the animagus in the days to come. His quarters had been constantly filled with people in one way or another since Harry's death; Molly insisting she help him with the final arrangements, Sirius not wanting to be alone, or Minerva and Albus filling in the rest of the time just to check on him. It was nice to have something to occupy his mind, to stop himself from thinking about what was going to happen today, but none of them could prevent those first waking moments when he forgot what his life was like now. Those moments - and the crushing realization only seconds later - set the mood for his entire day. At some point, though, probably after today, the visitors would end and he was oddly looking forward to it. It was for the same reason when Albus asked him if he'd like to take the remainder of the year off, he'd said he would consider the offer, but already knew he wouldn't agree. He needed some control and normalcy to return to his life; two things that would never happen. Life wasn't supposed to be normal any longer, a father wasn't supposed to bury his son._

_Sirius arrived at just past eight that morning, a time that was deemed acceptable to enter someone else's home, but he had a feeling the Gryffindor had been itching to come over far sooner. He was dressed in an equally sad set of black dress robes and didn't comment when Severus held out a glass of firewhiskey at that early hour of the day. The two wizards who were no longer enemies, yet not friends - a strange pair who would forever be tied by the child missing from the room - sat across from each other listening to the newly repaired clock ticking on the mantle, neither making eye contact as they sipped their drinks._

_"What time are we expected?" Sirius asked with a quiver in his voice._

_"Between ten and eleven," Severus answered flatly._

_Another period of silence fell over the wizards before Sirius asked, "What are you going to do now?"_

_He was sure many of the other visitors who had come through his quarters in the last five days had wanted to ask him the same question, but none of them had. Sirius, though, looked just as distraught and lost as Severus did. Here was a man who spent a third of his life locked away for a crime he didn't commit - at least this time - and he'd just gotten his Godson back only to lose him. Severus himself felt cheated by the lack of time he had with the young wizard, and he'd had two extra years. All he could do was hope that the last five years made up for the previous ten Harry had lived through; that he made some difference in his son's short life._

_"I'll most likely go back to teaching on Monday," the professor replied._

_"Already?!" Sirius exclaimed, placing his glass a bit too hard on the table in front of him. "You're just going to go back to life like nothing's happened?"_

_"What else should I do?" Severus asked more calmly than he felt inside. He understood it was Sirius's grief that caused the outburst, but he refused to feed it; not before a day like today._

_"You should…" the Gryffindor stood and started pacing while running his hands through his long dark hair._

_"I should do what?" He prompted again, "Do tell me what you think the most appropriate reaction is in a situation like this, because the last thing I want to be doing is sitting around here!"_

_And that was the crux of why no one had dared to ask him that question. What was he_ **_supposed_ ** _to do now? There was no right or wrong answer, it was simply putting one foot in front of the other in hopes that he wouldn't fall and eventually he'd be somewhere new. While the wound would never truly go away, at some point it would dull and instead of the sharpness, it would simply be a blanket he carried over his heart for the rest of his own days._

_The service had been beautiful, as every single person he talked to afterwards had told him, and were carried out exactly to Harry's short list of wishes. There really wasn't much that Harry cared about in terms of the service, but he wanted it small, bright, and 'not sad'; that last one Severus couldn't do, there was no way to make the death of a sixteen year old 'not sad'. The others, though, they'd done well on: the guests for the actual service were limited to his closest friends, Dudley, Sirius, The Weasley's, Lupin and his wife Tonks, Minerva, Albus, and any of the other professors who wished to attend; and most of them did, at least for a short while._

_By the end, once most of the guests had long left, Severus found himself unable to move. It was too final for him and once he went back to his quarters at Hogwarts it would officially start his life of 'after Harry'. The last five days had been this transitional period where he could almost push the majority of his grief to the side because he had a task to do: prepare Harry's funeral. The moment he set foot back in his home, it would be different; that task was completed and now it was only him._

_"Severus," Minerva's sad voice called to him. She was standing beside Lily and James's headstone, tears filling up her eyes as she watched him kneeling before his son's grave. "It's time, Severus. We need to go."_

_He looked past her and saw a group that had likely been waiting for him before they all made their way back to Hogwarts where there was some meal planned for the rest of the student body to mourn their classmate. Naturally, as Harry's father and professor, he was expected to be there, and by now they'd given him as much time to say goodbye as they could._

_"I'm so sorry, Harry. This isn't how it was supposed to end," Severus said to the ground in front of him, not caring about the tears falling from his obsidian eyes, "I love you, son."_

_He stood, also not caring about the dirt that clung to the front of his robes. Minerva wrapped her arm around his and they escorted each other back to the waiting group, where a port key was scheduled to take them back to Hogwarts; no one trusting their ability to safely apparate anywhere today._

_As he'd anticipated, no one said a word when Severus left dinner in the Great Hall as soon as possible. He received a sympathetic glance from those around him, but no comments were made. He took the long way back to the dungeons and when he entered, it felt different to him. The air was heavy and empty at the same time, and the professor had no idea what to do with himself._

_Deciding he'd had enough visitors for the day, Severus walked into the sitting room with every intention of blocking his floo for the night, but the contents on the table as he past it caught his eye: Harry's Official Adoption Certificate and a handwritten letter to him from his son that he'd found after his death. Three days ago, as Severus and Molly were finishing up the final funeral arrangements, he came across the letter Harry had placed with the adoption certificate; the last piece of information that would be needed. Harry knew his father would need to show proof of the Adoption before any of the final papers could be signed. The fact that the young wizard had the forethought in those two concepts - that he took the time to write Severus a letter to read after his death and placed it where the professor was guaranteed to find it - was a testament to Harry's kind personality. And so, he'd left both the letter and the adoption certificate out on the sitting room table for the past three days because he didn't have the courage to put them away. Someday, he told himself, someday they'd go back._

_He read the letter every day since he discovered it and, naturally, went to pick it up again while standing between the table and the fireplace. This time, instead of picking it up to read, he withdrew his trembling hand at the last second, turned around, and swiped it across the fireplace mantle. All the pictures and trinkets throughout the years crashed to the ground and shattered when they made contact with the stone floor. Something about that action released a burst of relief inside of him, and he found himself stalking around the room releasing his anger on anything in his way: parchment from people sending their sympathy to him, all of which flew to the ground and the ink pots spattered across the floor from the desk near the sofa, books from the tall overfilled bookshelves tumbled to the floor, until any sign from the life he and Harry built together was in pieces around him… all except the letter and the adoption certificate sitting in pristine condition on the sitting room table._

_It shouldn't have surprised him that the relief from his tantrum was short lived, and once he caught his breath, the grief blanketed over him yet again. It was a shadow he couldn't hide from, he couldn't scare it away, and he would have to find a way to learn to accept it or else he didn't know how he'd manage to survive. Taking one last look around the completely trashed room, he walked down the hall on his way to his bedroom to change - to remove as much of this awful day as he could - but he found himself automatically turning and walking into Harry's bedroom. Molly had removed as much of the reminders of what had happened in that room as possible, like the medications and other medical supplies, and now it looked just as it would if this were any other year and Harry were simply upstairs in the tower. He climbed into the bed - not caring how juvenile he looked laying in his son's bed - without any idea of what was to come; simply because he'd forgotten to block his floo from visitors as he had originally planned that night._

~~~~SS~~~~

**_Wednesday, 21st May 1997_ **

Severus woke in his bed, as he had every day he'd been back after being rescued from Malfoy Manor, except the first, of course. For some reason, Poppy insisted that being held captive for over two months in a windowless room required at least one overnight stay. By that point it was almost dawn and he was in no condition to argue with the medi-witch. So eventually, he obediently laid in his hospital bed as she went to work casting all kinds of diagnostic and healing spells on him, but he hardly noticed any of it. The entire time he was staring at the bed in the back corner of the room where they had recently come from and where Harry laid. At first, he'd questioned why the Gryffindor wasn't taken to St Mungo's - this was not really a Hogwarts matter - and when Albus told him it was to keep the flow of information in their favor, Severus wanted to scream. There were too many witnesses in the Drawing Room when it happened and to think the news _wouldn't_ spread was a mistake.

Naturally, the headmaster wasn't going to let Severus see him until after the professor had been checked and cleared by Poppy, but he refused to cooperate until he could see the young wizard, until he could see with his own eyes again what he'd seen back at Malfoy Manor. So before anything else, he was led to a chair by the Gryffindor's bedside where he held Harry's cold hand and he cried, not at all caring if a silencing spell had been placed around him or not. They could listen. Those who were in the room saw with their own eyes what Harry had done for him and none of them would question him about his tears afterwards. Thankfully, he'd been given a heavy dose of Dreamless Sleep where he slept through most of the day, and was then released from the hospital wing back to his quarters, where walking in for the first time felt completely foreign to him. It was his home, yet it was missing the one piece that truly made it feel that way in the last year - Harry.

Each morning when he first awoke, it felt like his old reality all over again. Those first sleepy seconds when he opened his eyes and before reality hit him all over again - the prophecy, the vision, his capture, Malfoy Manor, their attempted escape, and the killing curse rushing to him before Harry jumped in the way. When all of that came flooding back, it was too much and on the first two mornings, he found himself in his modest lavatory sicking up, just as Harry had done for months.

The worst part of being back in his quarters was the constant reminders of Harry's absence. Every time he passed Harry's room, left exactly as it had been since that awful day in March, he had to remind himself that the young wizard wouldn't be there. In the five days since Harry had been hit by the killing curse for the second time, he'd been in the room twice. The bed was still sloppily made with his favorite green bedspread from the morning before his magical testing, and his robes still hung neatly in the wardrobe from his last classes back in January. It felt like a lifetime ago and he wasn't sure what he'd do… he tried not to think about it, no matter how often his mind went there.

Today was the 21st of May, the day that had been Harry's funeral and the day that started all of this when Albus visited him later that night. Today, in this reality, he should have been dressing in his same black dress robes - although they had far less history here than back in his old reality - but he flat out refused. No matter what Albus said or pleaded to him about his need to be present, Severus wouldn't go today. He already knew there was no way he'd be able to keep his anger in check on a day like this, and no one surrounding him would understand, or care, why; his mind simply would be elsewhere and no one needed to be subjected to that right now. Deep down, he could tell the headmaster was clinging to hope that Severus would change his mind and randomly show up, but no one in attendance this morning would be surprised when he wasn't there.

After eating a measly, bland breakfast, he made his way to his office - avoiding the sitting room and its memories as much as possible; even though the last time he'd seen Harry was in this room it felt easier for him to handle - to catch up on his work. He missed two months of classes where Tonks ended up taking over his N.E.W.T lessons too. Looking through the notes she left for him, he was surprised the auror actually had kept things more or less at a level he would have taught, making stepping back into them on Monday morning much simpler than he anticipated. If it were any other day, he would laugh at how another year went where the Defense Against the Dark Arts post had been cursed. When he'd taken the change in position over the summer, he thought maybe this year the students would finally have a good year, and while it certainly wouldn't be their worst - Umbridge held that pathetic honor - it was definitely more pieced together than he had ever planned. Thinking it through, with the Dark Lo- with Voldemort gone, he considered not coming back to teach next year. He could take a couple of years off, or simply not come back at all. It was an option, though as he used to tell Harry, these types of decisions couldn't be made when feeling your lowest.

By lunchtime, it didn't surprise Severus when he heard his floo roar to life and Albus called out to him from the sitting room. This too was far too similar to this day in his old reality, though this time the headmaster would find him in his office instead of Harry's bedroom. As expected, the door opened and Albus stood there, waiting to be invited in. He was in a plain set of dress robes, an odd look for anyone who knew the headmaster and his penchant for the wildest, sometimes inappropriate for the occasion, attire.

"I doubt you'll leave if I ignore you," Severus called out without lifting his head from the marks he was reviewing, "so you might as well come in."

Without saying a word, the headmaster transfigured the modest chair across from his desk into one more to his liking, and sat down.

"Your absence was missed today," the headmaster said with a small twinkle in his eyes that Severus viewed as a bit inappropriate given where he'd just been. "I had hoped you would have changed your mind."

"For some reason, I don't exactly believe that," the younger wizard commented rather harshly to the first statement. Then, looking over at the man he thought of as his own mentor, he carefully put his guard down and asked, "How did it go?"

There was a moment of silence when neither wizard so much as breathed, and suddenly Severus had this unbelievable desire to know how it went. The question of if he'd regret his choice to stay far away came flooding into his mind.

"More or less as we'd anticipated," Albus said, and Severus let out the breath he'd been holding, "Draco was found innocent on all charges, and the rest are currently on their way to Azkaban."

"Including Lucius?"

"Ah," the older wizard held his hand up as if he'd actually forgotten this very important fact, "Lucius was found guilty of the death of Rabastan Lestrange, but as a measure of self defense. As for his part in your capture, the guard on duty for the Order that night testified that only Rabastan was seen bringing you into the guest house. Therefore, those charges were dropped."

Moody had been on guard that night, and Severus could only imagine what it took to get the former auror to lie about it. Albus had assured him that Draco and Lucius would see no time in Azkaban - as repayment for their brave roles in aiding the Order, especially in the end - but the professor only partially believed he'd come through on it. He probably should have been at the trials today, but he didn't want to be surrounded by so many people or his face to be on the front page of the _Prophet._ The latter was the second reason why he'd not left the school grounds once; the first reason was still upstairs in the hospital wing unconscious.

"Have you been to see him today?" Albus carefully asked.

"Not yet," he replied. "With classes cancelled, I assumed his friends would be there most of the day. I'll go during the dinner hour."

"Any word on his condition?"

"My latest missive from Poppy stated there has been no change yet," Severus answered, his frustration with the whole situation evident in his voice.

"He'll come around, Severus," Albus leaned across the desk and did what no else would dare try: he clasped his hand around the professor's. "Just give him time."

"Would you want to come back to all of this?" He pulled his hand away. "Between cancer, having no idea that Voldemort is dead, and magical loss, or continuing beyond, given the choice, what would you choose?"

Albus gave him a small smile, "But this isn't _my_ choice… it's _Harry's_ and he's far stronger than any of us think. Talk to him, my boy, I think you'll find he will surprise us all at least one more time."

Talk to him. That was what Dr Swanson and Healer Walker told him to do too. He couldn't though - but not from lack of effort - it had been far too difficult and even if he could find his voice to talk when he visited, he didn't know what to tell the young wizard who lay unconscious.

Albus stayed most of the afternoon and walked Severus through what had happened at the trials earlier at the Ministry of Magic. Every member of the Order, but Severus, was there and they testified what had happened from the first moment they breached the wine cellars. Apparently, it had been storming that night when Narcissa was supposed to be wandering the gardens as a cover for Lucius's disarming of the wards. Knowing this was still the best option they had, the Malfoy Patriarch proceeded without the planned distraction of his wife; he stated that her presence out in the stormy weather would have drawn more attention than his own.

This simple change must have immediately put the Death Eaters on alert because once the first team - consisting of Minerva, Moody, and Molly - crossed the wards that couldn't be completely disabled on their way to the boys' room, the response was faster than any of them had expected it to be. They had Harry's invisibility cloak, allowing the second team - consisting of Arthur and George to rescue Lucius and Dr Swanson - to move about almost undetected, while the others scattered across the Manor and the last team made their way towards the dungeons. Unfortunately, Minerva's team didn't make it to the boys' room because they ran into Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange midway down the corridor on the second story. That battle triggered the others to abandon the plan and head straight to their marks.

The team on the second floor was later joined by Fred and Fleur, tipping the scales in their favor before another two Death Eaters also arrived. In an effort to get the boys out before their guard, Yaxley, could find out what was happening, Moody sent Minerva to continue on to their room. According to Minerva, when she arrived, Narcissa had already taken down Yaxley; having been in the room with the excuse she wanted to spend time with her son before the Blood Ritual in a few hours time. Throughout all their time in Manor, Narcissa had been paying close attention to the muggle medications and supplies they had stocked away for Harry's chemotherapy and she'd managed to steal a syringe from it. That night, when it sounded like things had gone wrong, she filled it with a Dreamless Sleep Potion and opened the door, taking Yaxley by surprise. According to Draco's testimony, it was quite a sight to see and Severus made a mental note to write to the Malfoy Matriarch and thank her for her quick thinking.

Unfortunately, their success was short lived, and while the original duel on the second story broke up to separate areas in the Manor when Molly killed Bellatrix after the Death Eater witch just missed Fred with the killing curse, it wasn't long before they were surrounded again. Harry, Draco, Minerva, and Narcissa were the first to be captured by Nott, the Carrows, and Avery, and brought to the Drawing Room. From there, others trickled in as duels were lost, but once Severus was captured - the last of Voldemort's primary necessities - the evil wizard didn't need to wait for anyone else.

What happened next in the Drawing Room didn't need repeating, even from an outsider's point of view, and Albus was smart enough to be fully aware of that fact. Instead, he skipped over everything from Severus's own capture to Harry jumping in front of the killing curse - apparently the Gryffindor had bitten Nott, of all things, to get out from the Death Eater's grasp - meant for the professor and continued on after Severus had killed Voldemort and passed out. In the wake of their master's death, the Death Eaters in the room attempted to flee in order to save themselves. Luckily, Severus had been correct at the time in assuming there were still people downstairs fighting and with the death of their Lord, all of their Dark Marks burned signaling his official perishing. While the Mark would never go away, it had already lightened significantly and would continue to do so as time went on until it would only be a shadow of a reminder - barely visible without a second or third glance - of the dark things he'd done in his life. The only good thing about his passing out was he'd been saved from the blinding pain - as Draco called it - of the dying Dark Mark. According to Nadine, it was almost as painful as a person's magical core dying because of how intertwined the magic in the Mark was to the holder's own magic. For years now, Severus had avoided looking at his left forearm and the thought that there may come a day where that would no longer be necessary was definitely something positive to focus on.

"And there's one last thing that happened today," Albus said as the dinner hour approached.

Severus narrowed his eyes as the older wizard pulled a small loop from his robes and held it out in his hand. With a wave of his wand, the loop enlarged into a golden medallion.

"You were awarded an Order of Merlin: First Class presented at the Ministry today," the headmaster placed it on the desk between them, "for your part in killing Lord Voldemort. Harry was awarded Second Class and, naturally, I accepted them on both of your and Harry's behalf. It would have been a nice moment had you been there."

He didn't want the award, it wouldn't change what had happened and it wouldn't change the outcome of what was going to happen. But he did cast the killing curse that defeated the darkest wizard of their time, and Harry became the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, because even if the Gryffindor didn't pull through whatever was keeping him from waking up, he hadn't immediately died from the curse either.

"He would have died from the cancer anyway," Severus reminded the headmaster. In hindsight, given his Mark he was surprised he wasn't arrested for the use of that curse, but when he'd questioned Albus about it, he was told it wouldn't be a problem. Now he was getting rewarded for it.

"Ah, yes," Albus said, standing to take his leave. "In that case you should know Nadine Walker testified about your time together, and I believe he would only perish from the cancer due to your creative thinking. Alas, the award is still rightly yours."

He disagreed in principle; by awarding this high honor it was giving power to Voldemort even after his death. They should go about their lives as if this dark period was simply now behind them. Not to mention, it came at such a high cost: potentially Harry's life. He didn't say any of that, of course, and chose instead to simply accept the medal, if only to end the ridiculous conversation. Had he gone to the trials and been presented with it, he probably wouldn't have been so reserved; another good reason he'd stayed home.

Severus ended up not visiting Harry over the dinner hour. He'd been there, standing outside the door to the Hospital Wing, but he heard Dudley talking to the young wizard and didn't want to interrupt. He'd have plenty of time after curfew to return when the students were in bed and he was once again struggling to sleep.

The day was almost as difficult - in a very different way - as the same day in his old reality. By the time he returned to the hospital wing, he was mentally exhausted, but completely unable to sleep. The timelines had officially crossed and at this point in his old life, he'd had the red potion in his possession and had already taken the Dreamless Sleep to make it through the night. Back there, his nightmares were plagued with memories of the awful crossroads, but here, every time he closed his eyes it was so much worse. He saw his time at Malfoy Manor - Saturdays of torture, followed by nights of healing - and days upon days of brewing. In fact, after that ordeal, he may never be able to brew again without thinking of Voldemort and the incorrect potion he'd brewed for his son, leading to his death.

The hospital wing was silent when he entered as all of the patients from Malfoy Manor had been healed; all but Harry. The young wizard laid in the bed in the corner, stuck somewhere between life and death. This reminded him of the awful two weeks Harry had pneumonia, but this time he was even less sure the Gryffindor would ever wake up. Not hearing another person in the room, he was surprised when he rounded the curtain and Draco was sitting in the chair next to the bed.

"It's after curfew Mr Malfoy," Severus reprimanded his student.

"Prefect, remember?" The blonde didn't even turn towards him.

"That's not the purpose of that badge," the professor sat down in the second bedside chair. "I heard today was favorable for you?"

"You weren't there," the pain in the blonde's voice seared straight through him; another person he'd let down.

"It would have been worse had I been," he replied. "The general public already has a… conflicted viewpoint of me right now, and I wouldn't want any of my actions to reflect negatively on you."

"Well, it went fine today," Draco feigned indifference, but Severus knew how he truly felt. "I'm sure had _he_ been there-" the blonde motioned to the bed in front of them, "there would have been less questions about it all. His word is a bit more believable than that of a supposedly reformed Death Eater."

Draco looked down as he flexed his left forearm and then changed the topic, "Where do you think he is?"

Severus furrowed his brows in confusion, looking between the two boys who became friends - or at least as close to friends as Draco would ever allow himself - through their shared experiences. It took longer than Severus had hoped, but in the end that odd bond had saved them both; not necessarily from their circumstances, more from their own demons.

"With his parents," Severus confidently answered.

"Think he'll come back?"

Draco sounded lost in the irony that the one person he'd let see a small part of his true self might never come back. It would be a strange feeling for the other teen and one he was likely struggling to come to terms with.

"I don't think so," the professor replied, honestly; he was a realist after all. "I think he'll be happier with them."

Draco nodded his head and stood to take his leave, but before leaving around the curtain partition, he turned around and said, "He forgave you. Even if I didn't already know that, you should have. It's not everyday someone steps in front of the killing curse for a person they hate."

It was a statement demonstrating a maturity level far beyond his sixteen years and showed Severus just how far the Malfoy heir had come in less than a year. Severus should have been proud, but all he felt was regret that it also showed how much the child had been exposed to in such a short time frame. To further emphasize his growth, Draco didn't wait to hear Severus's non-existent answer; he just slipped away leaving the professor yet again alone with the Gryffindor.

He didn't know, or really care, how long he sat silently by Harry's bed. His hands were folded on his lap, and he was wringing his fingers that were so intertwined he couldn't tell which belonged to which hand.

 _Talk to him_ , they'd all told him, and so he parted his lips to speak, but at first no sound came out. Looking into his lap, focusing on his hands, he tried again, this time speaking almost the same familiar words that he'd last spoken at his son's graveside, "I'm so sorry, Harry. This isn't how it was supposed to go.

"I should have been honest with you from the beginning," he started with because that was all the young wizard had ever asked of him; of anyone really, "about it all, and now I may never get the chance."

He paused, trying to think of how to say all the complicated thoughts in his head. In the end though, after listening to the steady breathing from the bed across from him, there was only really one thing he had left to say to _this Harry,_ "The truth is… I love you like you're my son, and I want you to come back to me."

The moment he said those words out loud, his chest was lighter than he'd ever felt it; at least in this reality. With his head still cradled in his hands, he let his sorrow fill him until his insides ached and threatened to burst.

"I love you too."

That quiet scratchy voice was the last thing Severus expected to hear, and when he lifted his head - so quickly he was surprised it didn't fall off - staring back at him was the best sight he thought he would never see again: Harry's bright emerald green eyes.

~~~~HP~~~~

He didn't want to leave his parents' side. Wherever he was, it was hard to judge how long he'd been sitting there beside them - an hour, a day, or a week? - but he would have been content to stay there forever; or to go with them to the other side. Something was holding him back, and in the bright white room, he couldn't exactly remember what was making the choice so difficult for him. How long had he been wishing and dreaming for his parents to come and take him away, and yet now they were next to him and he wasn't jumping at the opportunity to go?

Then he heard Snape's baritone voice fill the space all around them and he knew why he hadn't gone yet. There was still so much living he had left to do, and not surprisingly his parents understood he needed -no, he wanted - to go back. This time, he'd gotten to give them a proper goodbye and that simple fact, combined with this choice belonging all to him and knowing he had someone who loved him back home, filled in the void he'd lived with his whole life. So when he opened his eyes, telling Snape he loved him came almost as easy as when he said it to his parents.

"Harry," Snape breathlessly said, handing the young wizard a goblet of water from the bedside table. "I thought you were..."

"You can't… get rid of me... that easily," Harry replied. Then as his head began to clear, he looked around the room confused, "What happened… this time?"

"You've been unconscious for five days after being struck by the killing curse."

His emerald eyes widened as he remembered Malfoy Manor; getting forcibly taken to the drawing room, fighting against Nott with all his might, and then, remembering his best defense against the Primary School bullies, biting down on Nott's wand hand so hard he drew blood, to finally get away. He thought he was too late, that the idea that freed him was a second too late, but he wasn't; he jumped between Snape and Voldemort at the perfect time to save Snape. The wand. He had grabbed Nott's wand in hopes of getting it to Snape, so the man could at long last kill the wizard that had tormented them more than almost anyone else.

"The wand. What happened to Vold-" Harry started, but stopped when Snape raised his hand. The young wizard propped himself up on his elbows, accepting Snape's help to sit up the rest of the way.

"He's dead," the professor answered, "I killed him, for real this time. He can never hurt you or anyone else again."

Harry wanted to cry tears of relief, yet he found himself oddly calm at learning that the cause of all of his troubles was gone. The evil wizard had defined him in a way no one else could really understand; besides maybe Snape. His whole life, purpose of life really whether he was aware of it or not, had been about Voldemort. Now he was truly gone and the young wizard could live freely, or least as freely as someone with Leukemia could and even that was getting better.

"Thank you," Harry said once he recovered enough to speak.

"It is I who should be thanking you," Snape told him with a sincerity in his voice the Gryffindor had never heard before. "What you did was… foolish-" he held his hand up to stop Harry's incoming protest, "- and the bravest thing I've ever seen. Thank you, Harry, for saving my life… in more ways than one."

Their time together was cut abruptly short when Madam Pomfrey and Dr Swanson came around the curtain.

"It's about time you're up," the matron exclaimed, and Harry knew it was her way of saying she'd been far more worried about him than normal. Immediately, Harry felt the distinct tickle of a diagnostic charm and Dr Swanson was taking notes from the results in her paper file.

"Severus," Madam Pomfrey huffed to the professor, " would you please give us some space to work?"

"But-" Harry started to protest.

"We'll have plenty of time to talk through things," Severus interrupted, stepping back to allow the medi-witch and muggle doctor in to examine their patient. "I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."

* * *

"Snape's being called a wizarding hero and you're now 'The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice'," Ron gave a small chuckle from one of the chairs beside Harry's bed.

"I don't care what they call me," Harry complained from his bed the next day, "I didn't actually _do_ anything, so they can all leave me alone."

It was the next afternoon, when the set of friends - Ron, Hermione, and Dudley - were having lunch with Harry. They'd barely been able to contain their excitement when they'd heard the news, but this time McGonagall did not allow them to miss classes; much to Ron's chagrin. No matter how much Harry had prepared himself for her greeting, Hermione's customary bear-hug from seeing him awake was almost suffocating. They were now settled around his bed, the two boys taking the two chairs and Hermione sitting as gracefully as she could at the end of it eating sandwiches and crisps.

They'd already rapid-fired questions at him about life at Malfoy Manor, which Harry answered as honestly as he felt comfortable with. As he spoke about it, he realized that from an outsider's viewpoint, it didn't sound nearly as horrific as it felt to him at the time. In fact, in most ways, it was actually better than growing up at Privet Drive was - not that he would say so with Dudley present - by getting three meals a day, a large room, clothes that mostly fit him, and not a single body-breaking chore to do. He was a prisoner, though, kept there against his will and that was something he'd have to learn to accept because he was having a difficult time coming to terms with it.

What he didn't talk about was Draco and the Blood Ritual. He wasn't sure if that information had been released and it really wasn't his place to gossip about. Based on Hermione's lack of questions regarding her boyfriend, he could make a safe assumption that they had talked about what the Slytherin's own experience had been like while imprisoned in his own home, and at some point he'd reach out to the blonde to talk about it too. He just wasn't exactly ready for that yet, and he knew Draco wasn't either. From the moment they woke up in that room together, neither of them expected to walk out of that Manor alive and that left a lot of strange history between them that they didn't really know how to handle.

"Did it hurt?" Ron asked, earning the redhead a slap across the shoulder from Hermione.

Harry rubbed the spot on his shoulder where the curse had hit him, "Yeah, it feels really sore now. When it happened though, everything went so quick, I'm not really sure about then."

"You're the only person who can actually describe what it's like to die from the Killing Curse-"

"I didn't die," Harry reminded him. "At least I don't think I did."

"Semantics," Dudley replied, as if he had any idea what was going on or the implications of it.

"Why did you do it, Harry?" Hermione asked the one question he was surprised he hadn't gotten when they first walked in. "You didn't know you'd survive, right?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I didn't know that, and I still don't think I fully understand why I _didn't_ die. It just… felt like the right thing to do at the time… it wasn't going to be long before Voldemort made another horcrux and then I'd be killed anyways. As I was being held, all I could think about was that Voldemort could be killed and hopefully Snape wouldn't be."

The trio looked at him like he was completely mental and the more Harry tried to think about it from _their_ perspective, he could see why they'd think that. The last they knew of the situation, he was angry with Snape about delivering the prophecy to the evil wizard and making them a target. So to help clarify the situation, Harry explained the rationale Draco had walked him through: that had it not been Snape who brought the prophecy, Voldemort wouldn't have vanished that Halloween night. The more he talked, the better about it he felt, and knowing that his parents - if he could even claim that was real and not some figment of his imagination - forgave the man definitely helped him reconcile the last of his awkward feelings. Snape was the closest thing he had to a father, even more so than Sirius had ever been, and for that he was grateful to have him.

"You love him, don't you?" Hermione asked when none of the boys responded, and then quickly added, "Like, a child loves his father."

"Yeah," Harry admitted a little sheepishly, "I really do."

The Gryffindor witch smiled warmly at him, but didn't say another word about it.

"So, what's next?" Dudley asked, bringing the group back to a safer topic for the wizards.

"You three," came Snape's commanding voice as he rounded the curtain, "need to be getting back to your classes now that the lunch hour is almost over."

Characteristically, Hermione jumped up and off the bed, clearly ready to go to class, Ron gave a groan and mumbled "see ya later, Harry", and Dudley gave his cousin a small nod before making his way back to help teach Muggle Studies. After watching all three teenagers leave the partitioned area, Snape took the seat where Ron had just vacated, closest to the top of Harry's bed. It was the first time the Gryffindor had gotten to see Snape since waking up the night before and his palms were sweating from his nerves. They still had a lot of air to clear between them after what happened in March and at the Manor only six days ago. He wanted to apologize, and he wanted to explain, but every time he tried, he started and stopped himself. It would have been embarrassing if he hadn't seen a similar reaction from Snape.

Before either of them could actually get a word out, a familiar, smiling face rounded the curtain.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Healer Smithe greeted with an arm full of files.

"Healer Smithe!" Harry smiled at the sight of his first healer, who he hadn't seen since the night his family was rescued and Harry found out he had been feeding information about him to Voldemort. Somehow, none of that seemed to matter though because the fact that the healer was here, meant things were safe once again.

"I've been asked to come back to oversee your magical health through your Maintenance Phase," the man said, opening one of the files in his arms, "though I'll completely understand if you're uncomfortable with the arrangements, and won't be insulted if you'd rather Healer Walker take over."

"No," Harry quickly replied before Snape could answer for him, afraid the former spy would disagree. "I'm ok with it. So, then no more Dr Swanson?"

"Not exactly," Healer Smithe replied. "We'll both be handling your care. Like I said, I'll be overseeing the magical side and Meghan will still be taking care of your chemotherapy. However, now that there's less of a threat around you, you'll be doing your treatments at the muggle hospital instead of here at the castle or wherever you'll be spending the summer."

Healer Smithe looked over at Snape who simply said, "That's still undecided."

"Well, wherever you end up, Harry," Healer Smithe explained, "you'll be able to come to the hospital where Meghan and I work to get your monthly treatments."

 _Just like a normal cancer patient would,_ Harry thought to himself. His whole life he'd wanted to be normal, and it was odd to think that this muggle disease was the first experience he got to have with it.

"Now, onto your magic," the healer put down the first file and opened the second one he had. "I'm sure Severus has explained the situation to you?"

Harry furrowed his brows and turned to Snape, "No, he hasn't. What's going on?"

"We hadn't quite gotten to that part yet, Alton," the professor said and looked sympathetically at Harry's worried face. "There's no easy way to say this-"

"Then just tell me," Harry interrupted, "I can handle it."

"Do you remember what Alton told you back when you were given the choice between the potions and the chemotherapy?" Snape asked, "Specifically about how magic reacts to the latter?"

Harry thought hard about what had actually been said, "Erm… that the chemotherapy medications will wipe away my magical signature."

"That's technically correct," Snape replied, and then halted Healer Smithe from adding to the conversation. "Do you remember why?"

The Gryffindor couldn't remember - there had been too many thoughts going through his head at that time - so he shook his head.

"It's because your magic would try to protect you from the side effects of the chemotherapy," the healer finally jumped in to explain. "It's why you felt the biggest draw from your magic during the harshest of the medications."

"But my magic is gone, except for under…" Harry trailed off as he worked his way through the issue. When he'd jumped in front of the killing curse, he had released the soul fragment and with it the block protecting the rest of his magical core. Without the block and three years of chemotherapy left, nothing would be protecting the rest of his magic from getting used up. "I'm going to lose it all."

~~~~SS~~~~

Hearing Harry say those six words was absolutely heartbreaking. The child had gone through a whole range of emotions when it came to his magic: he might lose it, he had a reserve they could protect underneath the block, losing his top magic, and now the idea that the magic they'd been trying to protect was now vulnerable. Severus would give anything to be able to spare the young wizard from having to continue being dredged through these situations.

"Not necessarily," Severus quickly said, "unfortunately, Alton was not privy to the information we'd discovered about the horcrux and when I explained the situation to him this morning, he was quite happy to hear about it."

"There's definitely a chance, and I won't lie, it's a very high chance that you'll lose a good amount of this new reserve of magic," Alton explained as Harry's face fell, "however, since so much was protected during the induction and consolidation phases, it's unlikely that you'll lose all of it. The side effects in Maintenance won't be nearly as damaging as you've experienced throughout the year, as I'm sure you've already noticed, so as long as you continue _not to use it,_ it's my professional opinion that you'll still have enough left when this is all said and done."

Severus couldn't keep the smile off his face after watching Harry react to the news. The question of Harry's magical ability - and its potential loss again - now that the soul fragment was gone, was one that had weighed heavily on Severus's mind since their return to the castle. When Harry was still unconscious, his focus was on if the Gryffindor would survive. First thing this morning, Severus reached out to Alton, who was now free from needing to hide, to ask the very pointed question: could the other, potentially larger, portion of Harry's magical core survive three years of chemotherapy. As he'd told Harry, Alton had never known about the block and therefore he'd not considered the fact that his magic was protecting him from the severest chemotherapy side effects. With this knowledge, he'd asked Alton to come back onto Harry's medical team strictly to help keep track of Harry's magical levels; admitting that ultimately, Dr Swanson was a better choice to oversee his chemotherapy and cancer.

"That's…" Harry started and stopped, overwhelmed with this news. "That's great, right?!"

"It absolutely is," Severus replied. "We'll just keep a close watch over things. Remember, this magic is now completely raw magic and therefore you'll see a lot more accidental magic. We need to try to keep that to a minimum because the less you use between now and your last chemotherapy tablet, the more you'll have at the end. The headmaster and I are already working on some low-level magical exercises you can do to start some basic training and try to decrease the chances of accidental magic."

Harry nodded his head with a large smile on his face, "I'll do whatever I need to."

"There will be loss," Alton reminded them, "just not a complete loss like you risked at the beginning."

"I'll take it!"

Suddenly, Dr Swanson peeked her head around the curtain.

"Sorry to break up what sounded like great news, but I'd hoped to talk to you both," she motioned to Severus and Harry, "about what to expect with the rest of chemotherapy."

Harry didn't look nearly as excited as he had been talking about his magic, but Severus knew this was necessary. Alton took his leave, promising to follow up during Harry's next treatment.

"I'm sorry about getting you kidnapped, Dr Swanson," Harry childishly said, once Alton had left.

"Thank you, Harry," the muggle doctor replied, "but I do know you were not the reason for my imprisonment."

"But if it weren't for me-"

"We'll talk about that later," Severus interrupted the young wizard, hating that he always apologized when things were not his fault.

"Harry," Dr Swanson sat in the chair next to Severus's, "I'm alright. It was bad, but I'm handling it and I can separate what occurred in that house from you as my patient. Do you still trust me to continue treating you?"

Severus held his breath knowing that Harry's animosity towards the doctor had never really gone away and that was when the Gryffindor hadn't been given a choice to have her as his physician. The professor legitimately feared what Harry would respond.

"Yes," Harry surprised both adults with his answer, "I trust you."

"Wonderful," she gave him a warm smile and jumped into her assessment. "Obviously you missed about a week of chemotherapy tablets, but I've been monitoring your blood counts and I don't think any adjustments are necessary at this time."

"That's great," Harry perked up again.

The doctor went on to explain that she'd be back on Saturday, only two days away, to administer his next IV treatment, but then starting with his 21st of June treatment he'd be going to the outpatient center at the hospital in Surrey for them. As Alton had, she asked about his summer living arrangements and again, Severus was vague with his answer. He didn't know if Harry would want to stay with him - at Hogwarts or his Spinner's End home - instead of with Minerva, the Weasley's, or even moving into Grimmauld Place; it was rightfully his anyway.

When Dr Swanson said she and Madam Pomfrey had given Harry a clean bill of health, the young wizard looked just as antsy to leave the hospital wing as Severus himself would have been. Unfortunately, he'd been told he needed to stay until Saturday - as a precaution - because no one really knew if there would be any late rising effects from the Killing Curse. To aid in Harry's desire to leave, Severus wanted to point out that technically no one required this level of observation the _first time_ he'd been hit with the curse, but then as a toddler he hadn't hung in the balance between life and death for five days, so he kept that observation to himself.

Once again, when the muggle doctor left, an uncomfortable silence fell between Harry and Severus.

"Where am I going to stay for the summer?" Harry quietly asked.

Severus knew Harry had picked up on both of his ambiguous answers and so he tried to tread the topic lightly and not draw any unwanted negative connotations to it.

"Minerva plans to let you decide where you'd like to stay," he answered neutrally. As his guardian until the 31st of July, it fell under her responsibility, not his.

"Oh," Harry looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

"You can choose to stay here, with either her or me," he continued, relaxing when Harry smiled that he'd been included in that list. "Alternatively, I'm sure we can arrange for you to go to the Burrow. And once you turn seventeen in July, you could stay at Grimmauld Place, though I don't recommend staying alone-"

"I'm sorry, Severus," Harry interrupted, "for how I acted after the vision."

It was such a sudden change of topic, it took Severus a moment to get his thoughts straight.

"Your actions were completely understandable, Harry," the professor explained, making eye contact with the young wizard in the bed. "Never apologize for how you feel, that's something you can't control. Your actions that come from it can be… less than ideal, however in this instance, you reacted how I would have expected. In fact, it was very much the same as when you found out where I came from."

"So I knew there?" Harry asked, grabbing and releasing his blankets. "Back in your old reality?"

"Of course," Severus turned his head inquisitively, "I told you at the same time I explained my past with the Death Eaters and Voldemort, before I asked you about the adoption."

He could physically see the weight lifted from the young wizard's chest. His anxiety about if their old life - the one Severus knew Harry held in high standards - was built on a foundation of lies had been wearing him down and now to hear that he'd been told the truth, from Severus himself, was freeing.

"Ok," Harry said so randomly, Severus thought he missed a part of the conversation deep in his own thoughts.

"I'm sorry?" The professor quickly questioned, his own brow furrowing as he was brought back to another day and time this had happened.

"I said 'ok'," Harry repeated, "I want to go home, with you, for the summer. If that's alright with you."

"Of course it is," he answered, trying his hardest not to think about how close, almost identical, this conversation was to the same topic in his old reality, "But Harry underst-"

"I know, Severus," Harry interrupted, just as he had in the Potions laboratory before Christmas holiday back in the old reality, "I still have a lot of questions, but we have a long time to go through it all, and right now I just want to go home."

Severus gave Harry a smile with a strong nod of his head. Somehow, with that last word still ringing in his ears, it was like the entire crazy year had come full circle and he would finally get to start living with Harry; the boy who may not be his son on paper, but still held the same place in his heart next to the other Harry - his first son - he would never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next: Epilogue


	75. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an author's note at the end of the chapter citing my main source if anyone is interested, a little summary of the next work I've started, and an idea of what's to come with the Choices universe.
> 
> I can't thank you all enough for taking the time to read this and anyone who's left reviews along the way! It's been awesome to hear your feedback on what I've put Harry and Snape (with Draco along for the ride) through and even if it didn't always make sense, I hope I did the story justice.
> 
> A very special thank you goes out to my sister (and halfway through beta) french_charlotte for all the "when's the next chapter ready" and for going back and forth with all the plot planning for what sometimes felt like days; those not only really helped push me through some awful writer's block to finish this, but really made sure it was well thought out and handled right. I'm sure I'll come up with new ways to challenge you as I start my next adventure ;-)

~~~~SS~~~~

**_Saturday, 25th December 1999_ **

Severus loudly cleared his throat to grab the attention from the group of young adults sitting around the fireplace of the small sitting room in his and Harry's home on Spinner's End - where they had spent most of their first summer together making the necessary repairs on the dilapidated home - knowing Harry would instinctively excuse himself to meet Severus in the kitchen. At first, the former professor wanted to leave this milestone night for only the two of them; excited that it marked the end of this long journey, yet knowing Harry might not feel much like celebrating it. At Harry's final appointment before his final IV chemotherapy treatment earlier this month, Dr Swanson spoke separately with Severus to explain that while caretakers of cancer patients may feel like celebrating the momentous occasion, for the patient it could be a very scary time; almost as scary as the unknown on the day of their diagnosis. As the days passed and the tablets inside Harry's last prescription bottle dwindled down, he could feel the unease radiating from the young wizard about his life when treatments finally ended.

Harry's Maintenance Phase wasn't without its own set of issues, as with every other phase he battled. The first year was spent getting Harry's bouts of accidental magic under control. Each time it happened - most of which was in a destructive form after his IV/IT treatments - it caused more anxiety in Harry about how much magic he'd have left at the end of all this. Originally, Severus had no intentions of going back to teach at Hogwarts, but found himself back in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom that September as a way for Harry to easily work with Albus on the magical exercises to limit his accidental magic. It was also the last year that Harry's friends would be at the school, and while Severus would never admit to keeping the Golden Trio intact one final year, it had some impact on his decision. In the end, it helped keep Harry's spirits lifted - especially when he completely lost his hair again less than a year after it had regrown back - and the training put an end to the accidental magic he'd been doing.

That had been Severus's last year teaching and he had no desire to ever go back. While packing up their quarters in June of 1998 had been more emotional than he'd expected it to be, the former professor had been anxious to start his new position working for the Malfoy Apothecary on their latest development to treat cancer in witches and wizards. So far, his team was making progress - working from where Matthew had left off in the new formulation - yet there was still so much to explore. Pulling from what he'd learned during Harry's chemotherapy, they were trying to attack the cells from different angles in hopes of finding something with better success than even the muggle medications.

The next year, Severus and Harry battled a couple of bad illnesses, one of which left the young wizard hospitalized in the muggle hospital in Surrey for ten days. Dr Swanson had said that while Harry's blood counts wouldn't necessarily be low enough to warrant quarantining, he was still considered immunocompromised and more susceptible to illnesses. Luckily, it didn't push back his chemotherapy schedule - not that Severus cared if it had, but Harry was very cognizant of how long he had left - and he eventually made a full recovery. Ironically, Draco had been working with Dr Swanson at the time, in preparation for his family's newest wing at St Mungo's: _The Malfoy Center for Muggle Diseases in the Wizarding World,_ which helped Severus stay somewhat sane during those late nights by Harry's bedside.

This last year was the best, by far, and outside of daily chemotherapy tablets and monthly outpatient treatments - along with a day to recover from the side effects - Harry had hardly seemed sick. His hair had fully regrown around March of this year and while it was not the same texture as before, it was still as black and messy as they both remembered. In May, he'd undergone another surgery when he made the decision to have his port removed before his chemotherapy was completed. This meant that at each monthly treatment the young wizard had an IV in his hand for the medication, but it gave him the ability to walk away without any other 'to dos' after that last IV treatment. As the year went on, Harry had more energy than he previously had and his weight was finally catching up to where it should be for a healthy nineteen year old boy.

With the return of his physical health, it made sense that Harry's friends had wanted to have a small get together tonight to celebrate his completion of chemotherapy, without realizing how Harry was mentally feeling about the milestone. At first, the friends had wanted it to be a surprise party for him, and Severus had only managed to hear about it ahead of time at work; through Lucius to be exact. He later was able to convince Draco to change the plans to have only a small gathering at his home and phrase it as a Christmas party. The friends, Ron - who was no longer dating Lavender much to everyone's relief - Hermione and Draco, and Dudley and Susan Bones, hadn't spent nearly as much time together as they'd hoped after Hogwarts and this was the perfect time to catch up.

"Last one," Severus said, dropping the single tablet into Harry's hand and vanishing the empty bottle to the rubbish bin.

Harry stared at the tablet in his hand as if this last one may be the one that would poison him. Starting tomorrow, he would no longer take any chemotherapy medications, and his eyes shifted over the tablet as he stood in front of Severus thinking about what that meant.

"What if it's not gone?" He lifted his eyes to meet Severus's when he asked the question that would continue to plague them both. They had to place their trust in the fact that his blood tests continued to look good, but technically tomorrow would not be any different than today and yet they had to believe it was; that the cancer wouldn't return after this last tablet.

"Dr Swanson said your results are extremely promising for long-term remission," Severus reminded him, "plus you'll have follow ups to check that it isn't coming back. But if it does, Harry, we'll know as early as possible and we will handle it, just as we always have."

Harry nodded and whispered, "Last one," before taking his last chemotherapy tablet.

Now that it was all said and done and Harry treatment was finally over, the young wizard had gone through over 70 IV treatments and a countless number - thousands - of tablet medications, and he would have to trust that it was enough to rid the Leukemia from his blood forever. Without thinking twice about it, Severus pulled Harry into a hug hoping he could ease any of the young wizards fears he had about his future. Someday, he wouldn't have it hanging over his head any longer. Someday, this would be a time they both looked back on and hopefully they would be able to find the things to be grateful for in the last three and half years; how this disease literally tore them apart in one reality and brought them together in this one.

"When can I test out my magic?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"After the New Year," Severus confidently replied having already talked to Alton about the right time to restart Harry's magical education. "It will give some time for the medications to clear from your body."

Harry nodded his head. "I should get back," he said and then paused with a frown, "you can join us, y'know. You don't have to stay banished to the kitchen."

"Thank you," the former professor replied, giving Harry a warm smile. "But go and enjoy the time with your friends and cousin. I have some things to work out before we start your lessons next month."

"Thank you, Severus," Harry told him, "for everything you've done for me."

With another quick hug, Harry left the kitchen, not as excited as his friends would expect, but with more determination than Severus could hope for. Severus sat down at the small kitchen table - trying not to listen in on the conversation in the other room, through the rounds of laughter - feeling like he was the luckiest man in the world and knowing this was exactly where he was supposed to end up all along; proving that all the choices they'd made had been the right ones after all.

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone again! Never did I expect it to gain as much of a following as it did, and it really helped keep me motivated to finish this. I've read too many abandoned stories and didn't want this to fall into that sad category, so thank you for keeping me going!
> 
> I used a lot of sources for this fic, but want to call out the main one for the chemotherapy regimen. It really had the best information in the easiest possible format for me to not only understand, but also retell within the story. Keep in mind that there are so many different regimens out there and this is only one of them. I chose it because it is used in adolescent and young adults and therefore would likely be what Harry would have experienced:
> 
> Chemo Experts: chemoexperts dot com / c10403 - consolidation . html
> 
> Finally, as a reader myself, my question at the end of a long fic like this is always "so, what's next"? I've recently posted the sequel (Smoke and Mirrors) which picks up two months after Chapter 74 and fills in some of the Maintenance Phase. It may not be epilogue compliant, but I'm going to leave this chapter as it is for anyone who wants to close out the storyline without reading the sequel.
> 
> archiveofourown.org/works/27579887/chapters/67465916
> 
> Thank you all again for reading The Choices We Made and I hope to see some familiar names over on Smoke and Mirrors!


	76. The Sequel: Smoke and Mirrors

_I've decided to add a preview for Smoke and Mirrors as its own chapter to better tie the sequel to the main story. It picks up two months after Chapter 74 and fills in some of the Maintenance Phase. This one will focus on all of the character's healing from the trauma caused by Malfoy Manor, a bit of mystery as Harry starts figuring out his magical situation (which of course is never as easy as they think it will be), and of course some angst from Harry and Snape learning to depend and live with one another. I have about 25k posted already with 40k written total._

_If you're interested, the link is below:_

[ _https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579887/chapters/67465916_ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579887/chapters/67465916)

** Summary of Smoke and Mirrors: Sequel to The Choices We Made. **

**With Voldemort dead and Harry's cancer settling, life should be returning to normal for Harry and Snape but things aren't always as they seem. Instead they find themselves challenged in new ways. When dangerous events start after Harry's return to Hogwarts, can Snape figure out what's going on before they're torn apart again? HP-SS mentor A story about healing and coping.**

~~~~SS~~~~

_Saturday 19th, July 1997_

Severus laid in his brand new bed, courtesy of the ongoing renovations to his Spinner's End home, thinking about what needed to be accomplished that day. The sun was shining through his street-facing window and he could hear the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen below signifying that the young wizard living with him full time was not only awake, but unfortunately had probably been for several hours now. As Severus and Harry were approaching the two month mark since their chaotic rescue from Malfoy Manor, and the death of Voldemort, there was no more denying something was not right with Harry. The teenager had been getting more and more distant with not only the professor, but his friends as well. Severus noticed - particularly since his last chemotherapy treatment, yet he admitted the timing could be a coincidence - he hadn't been sleeping nearly as well as he had been even in the first couple of weeks since their rescue. Severus was concerned, obviously, yet so in over his head on this topic, he didn't exactly know where to turn to help Harry through this challenging phase.

Which brought his thoughts back to the day ahead of them, having decided the best course of action to start figuring out how to help the Gryffindor was to discuss it with his muggle Pediatric Oncologist, Dr Meghan Swanson. It was a slippery slope though because no matter which way Severus had tried to approach his young charge with his concerns, he always said he was fine - a word the professor still loathed from last fall's debacles with Harry's mental health struggles - and therefore he didn't necessarily want the Gryffindor to know he would be reaching out to his physician for assistance; it would only make him more self-conscious about whatever he was struggling through.

The first trip they went on was to fulfill his promise to take Harry to Godric's Hollow in order to see his parents' graves. Not so surprisingly, it had been the first time Severus, himself, visited the cemetery to pay his own respects in this reality and to see it with the expectation of his son's grave being beside them was almost debilitating. After the cemetery, the pair of wizards walked into the charming village square towards where he knew a special obelisk sat in its center. Severus hadn't told Harry about the statue erected in his family's honor, afraid the meek Gryffindor would not care to see how the other residents viewed his parents' sacrifice. He knew the moment Harry noticed the obelisk change into the statue of his family when his already slow strides drastically decreased. Torn between doing what he wanted - to go up and comfort Harry - and what he thought he should do - give Harry the time and space to accept what had happened - he stood in the middle of the square with his body facing perpendicular to the distraught teen. Eventually, the Boy-Who-Lived worked his way through it and approached the statue depicting Lily and James holding baby Harry. Neither spoke as they stood by the statue thinking about how different their lives would have been had the family of three stayed intact, and Severus couldn't help feeling relieved; Harry could have stayed with his parents after being hit with the Killing Curse for the second time, and yet he'd chosen to come back.

The final part of their visit in Godric's Hollow, and the one he expected to be the hardest on the young wizard, was to the old cottage where Voldemort had attacked the family on Halloween in 1981; the event that triggered so much disparity in Harry's young life. This time, Severus did not leave his side as they stood looking out at the ruins of the home and the sign in front stating the cottage remained in _its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family_. The sign had been filled with supportive messages throughout the years for the young survivor, and reading through them seemed to fill Harry with hope. As mournful as the day had been, it helped to heal the void in Harry; especially now with Voldemort really gone and they officially closed a chapter of his life only to be looked back upon instead of continuing to live through it.

On the second weekend, the professor brought the young wizard back to Cokeworth and showed him where his mother grew up and around Spinner's End. Severus himself had only gone back to his childhood home in this reality the one time before Christmas to retrieve the pictures for Harry. This time he had the chance to take a really good look at the place and he was surprised - and appalled - at how his former self chose to continue living there each summer. The row house was far more rundown than he remembered and he was embarrassed to bring Harry to see it. Severus had to hide his surprise over the teen actually _wanting_ to live with him after seeing the state of the place, but as expected, Harry was humble about it all and together they made plans on how to fix it up for the pair of them to move in after the end of term. Throughout all of their planning, he found himself having to resist the urge to recreate their home from his old reality - where the memories with his son were still so strong - because this Harry was different and regardless of his own feelings about the space, he wanted to create one that would help Harry finally feel at home.

That left only one weekend before the end of term, and with it, Harry's first chemotherapy at the outpatient center of the hospital. Exams had ended the previous week, so naturally the professor assumed Harry would choose to enjoy the time with his friends. Although he did see them, in hindsight, the former spy should have known something was amiss with the young wizard then. As far as he knew - which admittedly was not as much as he would have liked - when they left the castle, Harry had yet to talk with Draco about what had happened during their time in the Manor and was probably a big part of his current struggles. Assuming the Gryffindor needed closure, Severus tried different ways to find out more information or suggest he reach out to the blonde Slytherin, but he was sure every attempt fell on deaf ears.

Unfortunately, Severus knew how difficult the first step of healing from their imprisonment could be. Only days before the end of term, and going home to Cokeworth for the summer, he managed to take his own first step in putting away the demons from that experience by having lunch in Hogsmeade with Lucius and Narcissa. He felt lighter than before the luncheon - and therefore deemed it successful- since that afternoon, however, Lucius had made no less than five different attempts to try and convince Severus to join the Malfoys apothecary research team. Unwilling to commit to any fall plans before knowing what was going on with Harry, he continued to brush off the other Slytherin's offer; so while it helped in one aspect of his life, it further complicated another.

Overall, Harry's physical health had seemed to improve as he settled into. his Maintenance Phase of treatment. The young wizard had good days where if it weren't for his tablet medication Severus would hardly know he was still fighting the Leukemia. Other times, he had bad days where the normally vibrant Gryffindor could barely get out of bed; and that was outside of his treatment days where he faced the same side effects he had all year long. By the end of the school year, they were both far more exhausted than they should have been given that the last month was spent without any classes to attend or teach and his alternating health was difficult to manage at times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for reading and supporting The Choices We Made!

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